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I gave you my entire heart.
What a grievous mistake.
It's funny how my brain can be exploding with so many things to say and I'll write them all, but after hours of writing I can concentrate all of it into ten little words. Makes me feel a bit inane and unnecessarily wordy.
 Feb 2014 Analise Quinn
Francesca
I've got a pathetic schoolgirl crush
On the guy down the road
Who I have never spoken to
But know enough about.

I see him in the mornings
Waiting for his bus
I see him in the evenings
Getting on my bus.

When I'm near him
I can't look at him
No matter how much I want to
Because I don't want him to know.

I want him to notice me
I don't want him to notice me noticing him.

I want to know him.
No doubt he'll be at my bus stop tomorrow. And the next day.
 Feb 2014 Analise Quinn
Chris
I should have realized
from all of the half-filled
coffee cups that
you’d leave everything
unfinished.
Finally, I took your pictures down
The ones that hung above my desk and haunted me
Reminding me of better days when I had all I ever wanted,
When you would look me in the eyes and I'd desire nothing more...
When our intertwined fingers were my definition of perfection...

But why should I keep our sentimental moments front and center in my view 
When you've already burned the memories and scattered the ashes in the sea?

Too often I find my lovesick nostalgia suffocating me while I stare into your pretty Polaroid face.
So, I stuffed our every photo in the back side of a picture frame--
--a photo booth at senior prom, our graduation, a smiling push on a swing,
A black-and-white of holding hands, walking away, heads cast down but eyes lit bright--
--and I shoved them in a box, hoping that my mind will someday follow suit.
I have learned I need to let you go
Even though I never want to lose you.

*Update*: My best friend/roommate put up pictures of himself making faces and eating pizza in the empty spaces that her pictures once occupied. He's the best.
Our
         love
          was
       a hand
      grenade.
   You pulled
      the pin.
Might elaborate on this idea a little bit for a future poem. A little cliché never killed anybody (at least I hope not. What a sad way to go).
*Update*: I made it a visual poem. But if it looks dumb, let me know and I'll probably change it back.
 Jan 2014 Analise Quinn
Chris
One day you might look back,
and you might not remember
how I cracked open
my already splintered ribcage
to give you whatever I had
left inside.
You might not remember
how stars went dim
when we walked in empty streets.
You might not remember
silences that felt too full,
or nights that felt too short.
But please,
please remember;
at least I tried.
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