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Andrèa White Sep 2014
Her hair was long
Down to that place where *** just barely meets back
The place his fingers linger
Every time she says goodbye
The place where two tiny dimples make up for the fact she never smiles
Long like the days he spends
Wondering if she's happy at home
wondering if she's just as good at pretending to be in love
As she is at pretending not to be
Like the time he spends waiting for a sign from her... or of her
Long like her absence in his bed
He hears her laughter in his head
He'd settle for hearing her name

Her hair was thick
Like the way his tongue feels after a midnight pack of camels
She says she doesn't smoke anymore
But she does
Because she says a naked man can't smoke alone
It looks funny
Thick like her thighs
And silky smooth when they graze his stomach
Like his great grandmother's accent
He doesn't understand her but finds comfort in the texture of the syllables

Her hair was strong
Like her conviction
Her determination to stay at home where she belongs
Though she longs to be with him
Strong like the coffee she brews
Because she's too rebellious to measure anything
Coffee grounds or consequences
Like his addiction
His compulsion to reign her in
To keep her in his bed
In his heart
In his head

Her hair is dark
Like her eyes
Black pools that reflect her black heart, rotten soul
Dark like the way she makes love with the lights off
Because then she can make him into anybody
Whoever it is that she wants that day
Dark like that space between waking and dreams
Where everything is mixed up and nothing like it seems
Where he reaches out to touch her and finds only hair
A few strands on his pillowcase to remind him she was there
He finds them everywhere
Last night he found one wrapped around his big toe
He freed himself but found it hard to let it go

She says she hates to wear a ponytail
Like she doesn't want her hair to look like a horse's rear end
And he's just a ******* for letting her go again
Most certainly a work in progress. Kinda how I hope my lover thinks of me.
Andrèa White Sep 2014
Son, shine.
On rainy days, and grey days
On Mondays, and on Tuesdays
On is it ever gonna end, and if so when days
Because even redwoods can't grow without rain
Even the best of us can't grow without pain
Can't go without dreams or fly without wings
They say we have our heads in the clouds
But so do the trees
We stay grounded, rooted in magic, tangled in mysteries
Branching out our realities
So Son, shine that radiant smile on the saplings, and dandelions
That are growing in your shadow
Because not only trees have leaves
Summer is warm but too often deceives
Sometimes it storms without a single cloud
Be brave my young son
Shine on everyone who dares, hopes,  believes
In anything or everything
Son, shine and dare to dream out loud
Just playing around. Haven't written anything in soo long. This is a work in progress.
  Sep 2014 Andrèa White
pixels
And when I die,
surely from sin and dirt and living-

Do not bury me in white.
Do not brush my hair and paint my nails.
Do not shine my heels and iron my dress.
Do not speak of me so bittersweetly.

Bury me in lingerie with frayed lace.
Muss my hair and smear my lipstick.
Scuff my boots and rip my tights.
Speak of me with thinly-veiled vehemence.

Do not love me,
when I am dead.
For none did during life,
other than in the glow of a t.v.
that only played to hide the moans.

Do not bury an imposter
and spin tales of a sweet ******
who died too soon.
Bury a *****
and rage that you were not the one
to finally silence her.
  Sep 2014 Andrèa White
ArianaRusso
Feeling reeling
Warmth coating my skin
Coating my mind
It's slime is soothing
Almost musing
Glazed eyes
A sparkle shines
Dimmed sensation
In my relation is this too late
Have I lost my fate to such a beautiful and lovely sensibility
Sleepy eyes pacific slumber

— The End —