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  Aug 2015 A
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there are times where i remember everything you have given me. you taught me the best things and the worst. you taught me how to love with all my heart, and how to hate with every inch of my soul. there are times where i remember the way you use to look at me. when you use to pay attention, nod your head in awe of what i had to think, of what i had to feel. you use to look so golden, even underneath the moons pale gaze and the cigarette smoke against your breeze-chilled skin. i use to look like a ghost. only visible to your eyes. there are times where i remember everything you told me. remembering that i have the power to leave the cold bath water if i pleased. that i had the power. you use to always be there for me. you always use to protect me when i needed it the most. i could call you and you'd be waiting for me on the other end. i always did the same for you. i still would. i remember the times you use to love me. when i was your favourite, and we'd dance around in the darkness, unafraid and young. before our cigarettes turned stale, our lipstick running out, you use to love me. it seems now the track has stopped, the feelings gone; unamused and full of malice, you used to love me. you used to. and now you've used me entirely.

-the first layer

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A Aug 2015
Feels like I'm breathing candyfloss and using my hands to stretch over the lonely sun

*** to a ****** boy like the ecstasy in the manner in which my eyes appreciate the presence of the August summer peering through the blinds when I wake up next to you.

Guilty avatars galavant in my veins as your fingers travel travel
travel
lose themselves in and along my skin

I know your fingers have felt the skin that covers my body better than the white sheets at the morgue
but now I need
I need I want I need
need
you to be a engineer and use your fingers to reach inside my skin and fix everything that is broken
for I am nothing but a second hand car
Beaten, forgotten, misused.
Misused, forgotten, beaten.

Baby I'm sad, and I'm begging you to be the one that see's through me
A Jan 2015
I want to be your 911 and your favourite childhood blanket and I want to be your goodnight instead of your goodbye.
I want to be your favorite pair of shoes and the air beside you so that I'm always next to you and I know you're comfortable.  
I want to be my parents' "I knew she could do it" instead of their "she's not trying hard enough."
I want to be my friends' safety net and not their other 24hour emergency hotline-dial-me-when-you-need-me. I am not temporary.
I want to be a girl who smiles because the world engraved laugh lines in her gentle face and not a happy pill trapped mistake.

But I will never be those things.
I will never be those things because, in your eyes I will be the last cigarette in every pack that smells and tastes so good, but hurts your chest in the most unforgivable way.
But I will never be, for you.
Forsaken
  Jan 2015 A
Farai Engelbrecht
I belong to you
whether you like it or not.

ever since that celestial night we spent together reminiscing about how broken we both are

but not the kind of broken
that people are afraid to touch,
or the kind of broken that can be seen on the surface,
the kind of broken that comes with giving your heart willingly into hands that tremble and shake whenever they hear the word 'commitment'

what was it about your touch that made me forget every dark and protruding insecurity that paid rent in my heart

Was it the way the corner of your eyes wrinkled every time you blessed this world with your forgiving smile

was it the way your laugh sounded like every one of my favourite songs perfectly in unison

was it the way I finally understood what home meant when you grabbed me by the shoulders and told me that I am a song worth being sung from rooftops

Was it the way I romanticized the idea of us, two dismantled antiques on a dusty floor, neglected and unappreciated, falling in love with each other  

maybe.

I'm not sure if you're 'the one' but I am undoubtedly sure of the way I wish I could replay moments we've shared over and over and over again and maybe some how download the first time you ever uttered 'I love you' onto my retinas

I am sure of my devotion to you and how it is synonymous with how the moon will never give up on the sun, how the bees will never give up on daisies and how we will never give up on each other

I am broken
and I am mangled
and I am terribly sorry

but I am also blossoming with love and the burning urge to finally define 'forever' with you, if you'd let me.
A Jan 2015
It's just a black empty space and I have created a corner in this circle because I need security in the form of things, and not, people.
And I unzipped my skin because someone smiled at me in the wrong way this morning or because I laughed into the mirror forgetting it was there.
I am dreaming of the heavens because God every night is singing me songs of sweet surrender, coaxing me "child, it's okay." And I unzip my skin because the tears and the sadness and the Everest of grief swirls in my arteries and dances in my veins and I feel *****.
I unzip my skin so when you hold my hand or feel my pulse beat against yours, I am empty because I want you to remain, pure.
And soon I will unzip my soul to galavant in the heavens so my bones can dance in the richest soils, rattling the song of goodbye.
It was nice knowing you.
Sometimes I get a little sad.
A Sep 2014
Sometimes your hands will become anchors and you will try to move and the ground will thank you for keeping still. And you will only notice this because suddenly you'll ask yourself," doesn't the ground feel lonely?"
And the people will spit on the deeply- tarred -equator -feeling bubblegum laced ground. And the people drag their obese- nicotine savaged-righteous feet upon the surface and allow their children to pick at it, mimicking their itchy adolescent nostrils.
The ground, we never realised is a playground for lovers backs and the collector of the suicidal's blood from every 27th floor. But mostly it connects us all.
This is noted from the thoughts of a 17 year old girl who wants to thank the ground for being grey and sometimes brown or green and wants to be forgiven for being the next shade of red on it's beauty.
I require understanding.
A Sep 2014
And my toes gripped on the edge of the cobblestone lining. And I cried because you weren't there to tell me to "get over it" and message me, "it'll be okay," but I was also glad. Because I finally let the voices envelop me, they're real you know, the voices? And for the first time in three years, I was warm, I was so warm.
The birds decorated the air above me and the cars zigzag the ground in between my feet.
I lifted my arms up slowly and laughed, a real laugh. And I thought about how nobody really undersands and how much it hurts to breakdown every time the sun rises in the morning.
I prayed to God and asked him to open up the heavens.
And then, I jumped.
I don't know what's happening to me.
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