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  Aug 2016 alex
Megan Grace
when the river ran
out i wrapped up
what i had left of
the plasma in my
veins and carried
it from city to city
from high hill to
deep valley until
i saw something
that looked like
you out on the far
end of a long field
and i waved to
you, said i'll  just
be  leaving  this
here and let the
sun eat me while
i walked away.
it's been a while.
  Aug 2016 alex
Megan Grace

i have
been trying
to remember
to pay attention
to my body when
i'm walking, to not
forget it is me in here
but is it me in here with
these storms and hurried
thoughts i have been reaching
for a long time toward some
kind of reconciliation and
it is getting further and
further away from me
my forever ending
was not so forever
was not so final
was not what
i had hoped
it would be
who  am i
if not the
owner  of
these hands
when did my
will to fight run
so fast i could not
catch her i could not
begin to keep up with
her dreams and all of her
ambitions but she calls to me
from somewhere so far away i
can justbarelymakeoutthewords
please     don't     lose      me      but
i am struggling through weeds
and branches that are too thick
and she cries for me from the
top of a mountain from the
top of where i used to
keep     his     heart
put yourself here
she says
put yourself here

i'm sorry.
alex Aug 2016
My mouth is bleeding.
Your sharp tongue is cutting the roof of my mouth; right behind my teeth where you spell my name. One letter at a time. My teeth are breaking but i've never been afraid of blood.
Not even when I coughed up handfuls into my mothers baby blue lemonade pitcher.
Not even then.
alex Aug 2016
You were an exquisite boy, or so I thought. You looked past normalcy in individuals & dug around in their chests for something to cling to. I saw a light in you. I'm guessing because you came from a far off place. A place I hadn't known to be tainted & hollow. I looked to you for answers. Answers you didn't have. I looked to you for safety. And a safe place, you weren't. Nights were spent indulging in music I had never heard, & sewing my skin back together in rows. It's hard to let go of the one who reminded you to drink. But eventually you just left me to dehydrate. It's for the better, I know. It was self destruction honestly. & although I no longer romanticize this silence, I will always love the boy who loved me when I was sad.
alex Sep 2015
I cling to hope like a newborn baby clings to his mother. We were all new once. There was a time in all of our lives when we didn't know that hundreds of little girls in Africa are missing. We didn't know what a bruise was much less how they got around our loved ones necks. There was a time when color was only a figment of the mind. A time when words didn't cut like glass. Our planet is crying for help. The world is 71% water but our people are thirsty. We punish our children when they use violence as the answer but have no problem sending their daddies to war. We tell grieving teenagers that they don't know what love is, but at what point do they make that transition? We blame those that go hungry on their lack of job, but make it impossible to afford the skills to get one. There is a problem. When money can rip families to shreds. When the remains of their love is scattered on the side walk, while a stack of paper grins at its control. When boys grow up in the light of a struggling single mom yet let their daughters grow up the same way. When religion is no longer about love or acceptance. When sexuality will **** you to hell, but ****** will receive forgiveness if asked. He had a dream, that our white brothers and our black brothers would come together as equal brothers. I have a dream that women will receive the same treatment as white men, and that black men will receive the same treatment as women and color will only matter when celebrating our cultures. I have a dream, that the world will no longer be thirsty.
  May 2015 alex
Megan Grace
where you are a soft hum
in my chest he was a riptide,
a cheese grater swallowed
whole, the fifth sunburn
of the summer. you are
the breeze on a rainy
morning but i can't
love your hands the way
i did his why can't i love
your hands the way i did his
I'm tired of trying to be okay.
alex May 2015
our love...
our love exists,
behind closed doors,
behind four walls
that push up against my lungs
squeezing until I suffocate.
our love exists while you
stand there and stare,
open mouthed
unable to accept
the fact that you denied
a delicate butterfly
the right to take off
that you set fire to a field
of tulips that were begging
for new fallen rain.
you touch me with electricity,
but i am used to this burn.
i am used to this broken feeling;
the feeling after your wings have been
plucked off
and every last layer of skin
has been set on
for you.
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