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  Mar 2014 Antonena Ishkova
Christina
She said its easy as pie
Just do it right and no one will know
But as I looked down
At his half sunken face
I thought to myself
Its easier said then done
And as I bent down
To grab his cold pale ankles
A funny thought came to my head
Just last month I saw him and said
You are one in a million
The only one in the world
But as secrets slowly creped out
And as gossip spread
One girl came before me
"You know what they say," she rasped
Her lips curled as she glared
"The good ones never stay long."
And as her sharp words cut through me
I tried to keep my bleeding heart together
I ran as fast as I could back to my home
Right back to my room
I was down in the dumps
Felt used and unloved
And as I heard his hand touch the handle
I stood in guard
And waited for his last words
"I will not have my heart broken again," said I
And at last, as I stood over his crimson body
She strolled right in
With that same evil smile
I felt cut and dried
And it was all my fault
With nothing I could do
And as I covered his stone body
With the earths damp dirt
I thought to myself
He was one in a million
The only one in the world
  Mar 2014 Antonena Ishkova
Christina
The tree stands tall and firm
Against the falling sun
Against the darkening sky
It whispers softly to passersby
To those with eternal pain in their hearts
And have nothing left to lose
It tugs at their lost souls
And it opens its arms
It makes itself look welcoming
Except for a single rope that
Hangs from its broad branches
"The forgetting tree," an old man explained
"Just come a little closer,
That’s right, don’t be afraid.
I understand you have a hard life
And you see no light.
Just come a little closer
And I'll tell you its story."
A young man approached
Because of the sadness inside him
He thought the old man could help.
The old man told its story
Of hope, love
And a brighter light for the future.
And the young man listened intently,
Hanging on the every spoken word
He hoped to see this Forgetting Trees light
And begin his new life.
But as the old man spoke,
He saw a darkening shadow in the horizon
"The Angel of Death," the old man said
Staring off into the distance
Suddenly the young man began to struggle
The trees rope was secure around his neck
"This is not what I wanted!" he cried
"I wanted a new life! A brighter light!"
The old man turned his worn out neck
As the growing shadow came closer
And glared straight into to dying mans eyes
"The Darkness will be your new light"
  Mar 2014 Antonena Ishkova
MKF
I hate the way you look at me
With the whole world in your eyes
I hate the way you hint to me
That you're capable of lies
I hate the way you kiss me
That makes the world stop
I hate the way you smile at me
That makes my heart drop
I hate your stupid uniform
That makes me want you more
I hate the way that your heart
Is always a closed door
But most of all I hate the way
That into love, I did fall
And I hate that I don't hate you,
Not at all.
For Trevor
I’m drowning.
Pushing me under,
Holding me down,
I’m worthless.

I’m clawing for the surface.
Desperation
Panic
Begging for release,
I’m nothing.

I see your face at the top.
Smiling
Gloating
Malicious
You want me to die.

You're nothing, you say.
You're just a puppet for my amusement, you say.
I’m just here to please your desires,
My needs don’t matter.
I’m an object in your eyes.

Our entire relationship was me drowning
And all you did was stand by
You watched me struggle to stay above
And you just laughed
And held me down.
My relationship with my ex boyfriend was a one-sided street, where I gave everything and he gave nothing in return. He abused me mentally and emotionally.
I try to mimic the touches that you've made,
here when I’m alone
but I can’t seem to trace the slow
slow
trails,
the ripples
the shivers,
the heat
that you've garnished over my skin,
the feel of your finger tips
sliding along the seams of my sweater,
riding along the ridges of my spine
down and round the valleys of my senses.

I try to mimic the touches that you've made
alas, when I’m alone
my timing is always
slightly off,
your touches feel like a stranger's,
never quite right.
And those carefully carved moments
the order of movements
of walking through the door
to familiar ground,
and laughter
with a twist of lime,
a kiss
and release,
timing that sigh of relief
settling down into the confines of our choices
starting a scene that always seems
to end in a dream sequence in my mind
realizing that it abruptly begins,
and painfully ends in time.
(I feel you still, and delicate, when I pull off clothing and climb into bed). I suppose this is a feeling that I just must let go of.
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