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May 2014 · 333
18 years of:
annie May 2014
i'll lead you in, we're hand in hand.
it's morning, dust floating in the sun beams
(it's chasing who had just passed before us).
on the floor, newspapers scattered,
guitar picks laden on coasters freeze;
rough pillows will idle limply in the folds of a green couch.
a symphony of coffee and fresh dew
will linger, harmonizing with
the sighs from the kitchen.
i'll tell you
this is where i grew
to know how to lose who i love;
this is why i kiss lips that aren't mine;
this, my place; my haven; my arch enemy;
my taste of freedom and a pang of resentment;
a series of dissonances and a collection of complements,
hangs freely in a void of the past
May 2014 · 396
bite me
annie May 2014
love is sweet when we're up,
bitter when i let you down,
crowned with bliss
'cause i know
that what happens next only God knows;
letting go
lets us know that the universe has integrity.
back to uppers, down to bed;
sink my teeth in the sheets,
my cup filled,
i taste a fresh world.
Mar 2014 · 1.4k
tupperware
annie Mar 2014
you touched me.
we came from tupperware and 2 to 3 sets of silverware.
with it i gave worms a home and with you i made fig jam and we put it in a mason jar.
i stared at my milk at your dinner table the way one stares at a speck in the gravel when one tries to balance on one foot,
to help from embarrassing myself in front of your older brother.
i loved him like my own; i loved you like any soul-searching, trampoline-jumping munchkin loves their best friend-
you touched me
as if i could just list off memories and believe that it compensates for our loss
and now i can't do anything more than to brush it off like life,
but that in and of itself makes me want to *****.
from tupperware, from textbooks...
to an eternity of unknown nothings and everythings,
you touched me and though i want to believe i've been through it,
though i say i've been through the dinner party irony of havoc, through the tupperware dilemma of sorts,
what faults in this life have i missed,
to help me understand what brought you to jump,
my trampoline companion with a curiosity and endless potential,
with textbooks and tupperware in hand?
Dec 2013 · 816
gravedigger
annie Dec 2013
tonight,
you emerge from tinged strings;
my heart aches

my eyes,
leaden from lost hours,
sing along

your hands-
'maginary brushes,
paint tears, smiles
Dec 2013 · 685
numbers
annie Dec 2013
i've counted the times
i've lied, i've lied and been caught;
i've given black eyes and blue bruises, received red watercolor kisses on my neck and purple ones between my thighs;
i've given a cold shoulder, a warm embrace;
i've tasted the hot tears of my own perpetration on another face,
and i've stifled my own to keep a family strong;
i've "I love you"ed
through gritted teeth,
as i throw a punch,
as my face is at her belt;
now, i count the footsteps in our favorite walk,
and the days until when at six a.m.
i will be studying the line between your brow,
framing your irises fixed on mine,
trembling as a blue lipped child out of water;
but if the future is now, and if now is then,
i will taste
the lies, lips, tears, and tricks
as fresh flowers on the crispness of this morning to come
annie Nov 2013
a foible fixer
polished white pond rock, no splash
i wobble and sob
Sep 2013 · 464
infinitely
annie Sep 2013
It's usual that I go out on a Friday,
but I've bedridden myself
from the pit fall in my stomach
when I realized your toothbrush was gone.

It's unbelievable to think
that just under the last moon
we laid under crisp blankets, sharing what we thought of marriage
And now
I can only pray that I experience it again in my life.

"I'm taking a test -- bye."
- my last words
before you read
the first words
that forever demolished what could have been forever magnificent
Sep 2013 · 429
She
annie Sep 2013
She
Tastes of cream.
Elixir tears trickle to
delicate shoulders
and a limp cinnamon smile
Sep 2013 · 1.3k
Untitled
annie Sep 2013
I will only ever remember
stubby thumbs or your stubborn head,
and coconut-carved ridges in your paper-white teeth;
laser lights;
my pencil
covering the cliche of a hand hovering over my body;
of those breaths with a depth too recognizable
and the inflated patches so perfect under your eyes;
just to float in a revery of reconciliation,
sitting on the concrete as I cry with a shake in my body like the break of a wave

— The End —