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Sienna Mar 2018
Surrounded by loss
People no longer there
A promise remembered
"I'll always be here"

feel the shake,
and feel the shiver
of the coldness
as it comes hither
as you lay down on your side
and decay into wither.

And a pool of memory

Forming around

A mess made
Including thyself

Lost but not found.
Sienna Mar 2018
Months ago
Feels like years
Remember nights like these
Where we would talk about anything
Nothing in particular
You'd go on and on
And I'd listen
On nights like these.
I never would've thought
Right then, in that very moment
That one day
We'd no longer
Share nights like these.
Sienna Mar 2018
Light a match, watch it burn
Don't you know there's so much to learn?
Cross here, and take a turn
Dreams can die, end up a urn.

If you're careful, make a mural
Use the ashes, to paint a fern.
Show it growing, see it yearn
Sprouting there, with no concern.
Sienna Mar 2018
A bottle in your hand,
Slurring, shouting, and sobbing as loud as a band.
Making scenes, and dramatic land.
Spending and losing over a grand.
Putting your whole life into the bottle, never gave a minute towards the sand.
Pick it up, watch it run through your hand.
A fool you make yourself, squinting all you can.
Never understood why you thought that fear made you a man.
Sienna Mar 2018
In the green light,

crashing down

In the green light,

   can't make a sound

In the green light,

    walking all around

In the green light,

pity a pound

In the green light,

     want to leave town

In the green light,

                            haunted by the shroud.
A poem about the green light that glares in my grandmother's kitchen at night when all lights are shut off. The bulb is green and all is silent. Here in this kitchen; this house, so much has happened. I've seen things I wish I never did. There in the green light. A window at the entrance is where I used to look through all the time and think about running away. For the last part of the poem, I am referencing my grandfather who passed away in this house. His bed is near the kitchen and his presence is still eerily felt.
Sienna Feb 2018
In your weakest moment
it escapes the depths of hiding and engulfs your being;
the vulnerable will be reaped.

As presence does not hinder,
It hovers over the soul
reaching out to touch
coming to collect it's belonging
in a pursuit of descent.
Sienna Nov 2017
Loneliness encasing me
And closing all around me
Falling into the depths of great defeat
And no one can hear me
Mistakes being made are those of a weaker mind
And a weaker heart
Or so told in the dark and made into art
Here is the product
Of a time long lost
A battle never defeated and memories not gone
A clock to be heard ticking away
But all silence is remained
A tear receding into below
Yet once was a glow
And learned is the fact
You cannot outrun the past
Hiding in your own cave
The past is the present now made

— The End —