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 Jan 2017 Anika Abith
Ann Rachel
That Life, she smiled kindly upon me
it seemed
but she ripped my pen of it's ink

That Life, she caressed my cheek
it seemed
yet she burned my script and let the ashes flit away

That Life, her heart was in tune with mine
it seemed
but she drained the crimson I bled on a white blank page
If only your skin was a lighter shade
Here, this bleach might come to your aid
If only your lips weren't so full
Maybe the boys would like you at school
If only your hair wasn't so *****
Here's some caustic chemicals to make it more slinky
If only your ******* weren't so large
Here's the number to a surgeon, call and see what they charge
If only your waist was smaller (just a few inches)
Here's a corset, see how tiny it cinches?
If only your *** wasn't so round
How 'bout you run some laps to lose a few pounds?
If only you'd get your nose out of books
I bet you'd garner more stares for your looks
If only you'd change your curious personality
I hear the masses prefer banality

If only you'd see me for me
Do you know how content I'd be?
If you can't do that
Then leave me be.
A collection of things people have said to me over the years. I have developed a cynical complex because of it.
You can't hold the short arm of the clock
and call it yesterday.
This is what I've learned this year. I think we've all grown up in ways we don't want to admit.

And in the end we're always more lost than ever found. But isn't that what life is all about? Finding your way back to yourself.

Happy new year everyone.
I hope joy gets your address right this time.
 Jan 2017 Anika Abith
Holly
It's always little things that take me back to you.

A lyric in a song.
A shimmer in the snow.
A dark lonely street.
When I have to let someone go.

The darkness of my own hair,
And how it looks against your skin.
The softest of touch,
And elegant curves that reflect your grin.

The sleepless nights in this apartment.
The photos on my wall.
The pain inside my heart.
You're image is in it all.

The journals that I keep.
The drawings I recreate.
The tears that fall.
All the things I hate.

Because of you I'm forced to live.
This new found notion; "I want to be strong."
Even though you're not around to care...
Who would have thought I'd make it this long.

You say you love her,
But you can't seem to remain true.
Please remember..,
I love a lot of people, but I am in love with you.
Hands all over and
Tongue shying to enter
How shall I tell her
That I'll always be her lover
Sighs of the afternoon forest
Grow faint
Like ripples on the water
One after another.

Moments so close yet distant
I place on your lap
As the heart belongs to the wild.

Icing up the evening
Mountain blues of your eyes are
Now quiet at my palms.

We're only a thousand miles
Away from home.
 Jan 2017 Anika Abith
Angel
My parents named me,
based on my baby blue eyes,
and blond hair,
now my golden locks,
are muddy brown,
and my eyes change with the weather,

sometimes others are confused,
throwing variations of my name around,
as if avoiding the sound of uncertainty ,
that follows those five letters,

and occasionally I hear my mundane name,
faintly in the air,
suddenly I don’t care,
I’ve stopped turning around,
Ive forgotten the sound,

and every time I meet someone new,
they ask “what should I call you”,
I don’t know what to say,
my body there,
but my mind astray,
so I mumble “Angel”,
slightly ashamed,
I don’t even know my own name
To be loved by a poet
is to be embroidered with feelings.
To be torn apart,
examined,
and put back together as words
instead of flesh and bones.
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