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Olivia Walters May 2015
Do you remember,
Lying on the tennis court at 2 am,
our backs damp from the midnight rain,
and the sky sprinkled with pinpricks?
Do you remember the silence,
the blended darkness
that fit into us perfectly?
Do you remember how you looked at me
And smiled,
Told me how happy you were,
That we would always stay together?
Forever?
Because I do.
And I hope you do too.
Olivia Walters May 2015
Midnight.
I sit in bed, folding paper airplanes.
the streetlight casting soft shadows as they race around my room.
Tumbling, turning, tossing themselves in the air.
Like shooting stars.
And I count the seconds before they land.
Close my eyes
One, two, three.
Wish
Before they crash.
And when morning comes the
Paper planes scatter the floor, a war zone
Their wings twisted from falling fast.
Crumpled from a quick descent and mourning footsteps.
Eight o’clock
I pick up the trash.
Olivia Walters May 2015
People used to tell me
“You say sorry way too much.” This of course would always bring on a clumsy apology
“Yeah I know. I’m sorry.”
They’d also say that sorry is a ******* phrase, that you’ve got to change before you can be sorry.
But I know for a fact that when I apologize I’m saying so because I  am sorry.
I’m sorry but no I didn’t do my homework last night.
Oh I’m sorry that ***** dish I left in the sink—Insert lame excuse here.
Hey, you know that book you let me borrow? Oops, sorry.
See? It’s all better. And so, I’m sorry:  
To that desk for breaking your braces through your cheek.  
For not plugging your ears to those malicious words that no back, not even yours, was meant to bear.
That you went hungry because my allowance wasn’t for you, it was for a my little pony instead.
That you still aren’t better,
at least… not yet.
Sorry To that glass that broke the wall right behind your head.
That you can’t stop suckling on that bottle no matter how hard you try and pull your lips away.
That you lost your hair, house, job and, someone seems to have stolen your smile.
That you have never really been loved, at least, at least not the right way. And maybe it’s my fault…
But when worst meets worst and your hands are beaten and blistered from carrying your troubles. When your mountain is far too tall to climb. Just know that I am sorry. And that’s all I can be
is sorry.
Any advice is welcome :)
Olivia Walters May 2015
My breath fades into a ghost
Feet crunch on a crust of ice
Branches stretch like skeletal fingers
Angels have left their silhouettes

Feet crunch on a crust of ice
Boot prints leading them away
Angels have left their silhouettes
Children gloves are strewn across the yard

Boot prints leading them away
To a place frozen shut
Children gloves are strewn across the yard
And door knobs stay untwisted

To a place frozen shut
When cheeks are stung red
And door knobs stay untwisted
Beneath frozen palms

When cheeks are stung red
Where summer used to dance
Beneath frozen palms
And everlasting sunshine

Branches stretch like skeletal fingers
Where summer used to dance
Beneath frozen palms
My breath fades into a ghost
Olivia Walters May 2015
Kisses
His lips
Stained red from cherry lip-gloss and his skin still damp from midnight lust.
Our arms and legs lay tangled beneath the stars.
These are the good nights
The, Nightmare, Night terror
Free nights.
Filled with burnt out cigarettes and hushed tones.
These are the nights
That push the cortisol from my mind to be replaced by a
Cheap serotonin fix.
These nights are my lullabies and goodnight
Kisses
His lips
Push their way against my squirming flesh, my tongue too tied to protest.
His hands caress,
My arms and legs. twisted behind locked doors.
These are the restless nights
Tossed and turned like mildewed clothes
Filled with empty cups and muffled moans.
These are the nights-- I’m sorry
The nights I pray for sunrise
Kisses.
Her lips
Find their way to my worried ear, stroking, Hushing.
“It’s okay baby girl mama’s here.”
Shhhhh.
These nights are long nights
When my legs are restless from running through my head,
Monsters,
Hiding underneath my bed.
These nights are filled with screams, they
Strangle my throat, and Chills prickle my spine but
These nights are saved
By her forehead
Kisses
Hey, I'm writing this spoken word poem for my poetry class and would love some feedback if I can receive any, there is going to be a fourth stanza but I would like some advice first to try and get rid of my writers block.

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