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Skylar Turner Jul 24
“i am a god!”
he yelled
with shaking fists
and a beat-red face.
his knees scabbed
and his blood flowing freely
onto the cemented ground.

she stared down at him,
eyebrow quirked
and a hint of a smile.
sword pointed
and ready for battle.
“you may be a god,
but i am hades.
and i bow to no one.”
Skylar Turner Jul 19
i didn’t want to write this.

not when you’re no longer laying next to me.
the warmth from your skin no longer seeping into mine.

i didn’t want to write this.
not without your hand intertwined with mine.
fingers wrapped so delicately around each other.

i didn’t want to write this.
not because it doesn’t hurt anymore.
i’m reminded of you every single day.

i really didn’t want to write this.
but i did.

because it still hurts that i wasn’t good enough for you.
it kills me that it seemed easy for you to leave so suddenly.
it pains me that you probably never looked back once.

but that pain is still there.
i promise you that.

so i guess i wrote this to remind you.
(or remind myself of you)
i wrote this to remind you that even 3 months, numerous attempts to say your name without the bitter aftertaste, and several poems later, it’s still hard to pretend that i was never close with you.

laying next to you.
my body warmth seeping into yours.  
fingers wrapped delicately.

you feel that?
it’s the pain,
still there.
Skylar Turner Jun 26
she holds you like it’s the first and the last time.
her arms are wrapped around you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go for even a second.
you feel her heartbeat thump, your head pressed against her chest as her pulse races.
a sigh escapes as you push closer, imbedding your body into hers like it’s the first and the last time.
“i’ll never let you go,” you say.
she breathes deeply, as if she knew you were going to say that.
she cups your face and her fingers glide along your jaw.
her hands are shaking as the tips of her fingers dance across your cheek, like it’s the first and the last time.
she looks so solemn, her eyes filled with a gentle sadness.
but still, her hands caress your face and she whispers quietly.
so quietly.
like it’s the first and the last time.
“you already have.”
Skylar Turner Jun 26
what was it like when you left me behind?
with a bottle of jack clasped in your greedy palm,
did you ever look over your shoulder?
did you ever turn back?

independency never looked more like a cage
when you realize it came with
losing a childhood to a parent
dependent on *****
and lost in her liquor.

maturity is a sculpture that people
chip and mold to fit their own reality
when they forget that the
broken pieces surrounding the perfect sculpture
are really what maturity is made of.

when you left me behind
i reveled in my independency
and clutched my broken pieces in my hands,
glued them back together
and called it armor.

but i still wonder from time to time,
if you ever looked down to see your own
broken jack bottle
glass pieces by your feet,
because you finally remembered

that you left your daughter behind.
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