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alexa Sep 2018
when you saw me in the halls today
i’m sure i looked happy.


that is how good i am at lying.
-a.c.b
  Sep 2018 alexa
scully
I want to write about what hurts because I think it will
Stop me from hurting. If I put these words on
A page then they will be easier to digest.
Poetry isn't curative by creation, it is
Just confession. Still, these remedial
Lines are what I turn to when I am holding
Too much in my hands. Right now, I feel
Like I am overflowing onto the ground below me.
For the first time,
I don't want to write about what hurts. I want
To keep it inside of me and let it burn me. I want
To carry it in my palms for as long as I can.
I should write
About how we've said goodbye so
Many times that it turned into a threat, a weapon
We made with our tongues.
I should write
About how I lied and got away with it,
How you got caught with
Your hands tied and no one to blame.
I should write
About how it was over before we waved the white
Flag, and I know what it means now
To hold onto a sinking ship.
I've never had anything to die for.
I should write about how I've never wanted
Something so much that I devastated it completely.
We loved in harsh conditions, under sun and darkness and
I don't know how to write about how
The love didn't save us.
I don't write about letting go as much as I write about
Holding on, and I want
That to change.
I don't want to write hurt just to feel it.
The next poem I write about you will be
About me. About how I held on and how I let go.
It won't be about your love, it will be about
Mine. It won't stop me from hurting, but
It is how I make it out
Of my love alive.
`
alexa Sep 2018
i’m like King Midas,
surrounded by gold, the best
but i don’t touch it,
can’t touch the very material
i give off,
can’t make myself the kind of happy
i (apparently) make others.
i give off pure gold,
24k happiness,
but the metal grows cold in
my veins, turns solid
letting the worst seep into my bloodstream
and the best
swirling through the veins of the ones
around me.
oh, how i wish
i could get a taste of that
24k golden sun.
-a.c.b
  Sep 2018 alexa
yúyīn
I’m not heartless, I just learned how to use my heart less
  Sep 2018 alexa
Mims
He loved her the way people love the rain

They say do

Until they get caught up in it;

And then their opinion changes for a moment
Because how could they know
It was this cold.
Psalms
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