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Amelia Jo Anne Sep 2013
I hate how naive I am
how twisted I grew
always struggling for breath
strangled & contorted
wrong air in the greenhouse
that outside seemed a dream house.

grew painfully pressed
soft & depressed in those places
shield of armor & tree trunk legs
strong & sturdy
waterlogged soul
I carry the ghost of every snowflake
every storm struck passenger's spirit
lost love & one glove.
Amelia Jo Anne Sep 2013
lifting sifting
drifting intense
pouring distorting
apparently blessed
breathe high & divide
love myself, then the rest
I'll never stay with anyone
I can stand to give to less.
Amelia Jo Anne Sep 2013
sweet soothing rhythms
& drip drop words
rain drop grooves
through my mind
a sheen of pink syrup
drips down my rib cage
staining my core &
strengthening me  
makes me feel regular again
I ***** & reject troubles
with a magic that bathes
my body; leaves me gleaming
as a goddess.
otherworldly & yet swimming
close to shore
die to keep myself alive
laugh for every time I cried
drink water straight from the tap
don't crack
don't crack
Amelia Jo Anne Sep 2013
I hate how naive I am
how twisted I grew
always struggling for breath
strangled & contorted
wrong air in the greenhouse
that outside seemed a dream house.

grew painfully pressed
soft & depressed in those places
shield of armor & tree trunk legs
strong & sturdy
waterlogged soul
I carry the ghost of every snowflake
every storm struck passenger's spirit
love lost & one lost glove.
Amelia Jo Anne Sep 2013
let myself just stop halt, just for a second. let myself be myself, surrounded in music & by people I don't know..and some of them that I Do. stop for a moment & let myself just focus on their hands, their lips on me, working mine in the rhythms, those slutty club hypnotics crafted by sound manipulators. wait, Focus. Their soft, demanding lips on mine. not the ones I want but hey. Focus. Those slender fingers reaching up the nape of my neck- my arms give me away with natural goosebumps, my skin hacking up, reflexively, not aggressively, but with fondness & heated chills. those fingers, nails trailing my scalp...****, I wish he could do this - wait. Focus. her lips still demanding mine, but liquor likes to press the 'play' button when you're not looking, leaving you to stop. look at the mess you've made. children have a funny way of breaking all their favorite toys. stumble to the bathroom you half hoped you'd be tasting danger in about an hour ago. can't even be angry enough to flip off the other girl at the sink, too ashamed to look at yourself. the pressures of hating yourself some days unbearable because you get claustrophobic when the door closes with only you & your Savior inside.
Amelia Jo Anne Sep 2013
our love was uncomfortable
made her reel
skyrocket
lose control
lift from the ground
with not enough momentum.
what might have aided
forced her forward,
conspired against her
& pulled her down
contact & corrode.
made my skin itch
tormenting, restless fingers
rub away the best parts
& reveal the scabs beneath.
At least she's propelled,
going somewhere. I'm stuck
sitting with how unhappy I am with myself,
& she's tumbling, tossed away from how unhappy I make her too.
Amelia Jo Anne Sep 2013
standing on
crossroads
binoculars tell me
each is a dead end.
try to pick the best bad option.
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