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Ashton Whiles Aug 2015
This is a disease.
People say it isn't deadly.

But
It is.

It grips hold of its host.
Making them feel miserable.

It rips open the old wounds;
buried deep inside;
to bleed and soak through the fabric of time
to stain the newly washed cloth
I just washed of all its dirt
Once Again.

It beat down the wall
That I put up
To keep it out.

For Good.

It clawed and growled and howled.
At the glowing moonlight of what was my
New Self.
Begging to have a slice of that new pie.

It got what it wanted.

It took hold of me;
Again.
It made me bleed;
Again.
It made the seas of mid-night aches
and
mid-day death wishes arise
Again.

When Will it Go Away.
Ashton Whiles Aug 2015
She isn't a She
and
He isn't a He.

The two that make them whole
is
My Love

They have their moments;
being She
being He.
I love all of those moments.

Sometimes frilly and cute,
Sometimes suave and handsome.
The two don't **** heads.
Neither of them take priority.

They /both/ take precedence.
They're /both/ important to me.
They /both/ make me smile.
They /both/ love me.

I love Her.
I love Him.

She is my love.
He is my love.

My love.
(This poem is dedicated to my loving partner, Skylar. Our 1 year anniversary was on August 25th, and I took the liberty to create a poem for said partner, Skylar. I hope you like it baby!)
Ashton Whiles Aug 2015
Gone was Stability.
Gone was Happiness.
Gone was Hope.
Gone was Light.

Was she well?
We didn't know.
Nobody knew how.
Something had changed.
She wasn't well.

Cloaked in Grace.
She stood There.
Arms open wide.
Big southern Smile.
Now frowning Peacefully.

Prayers were sung.
Sobs were welcomed.
Death challenged Her.
Death Had Won.
They took Momma.

Alone I sat.
Two whole months.
Fighting the urges.
Breaking so slowly.
Without Her here.

Now I cringe.
Passing Her room.
Wishing I smiled.
In the Hospital.
For HER sake.

— The End —