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 Nov 2016 Atlas
Emilee Ayers
again.
 Nov 2016 Atlas
Emilee Ayers
crack my chest open
like an egg

this gnawing sensation
expelling from my body
like the yolk that falls from the shell
splattering on the pavement
gasping or breath from the speed
it gained to travel from there to here

throw me aside
like used *******

exhausted of worth
after finally getting whatever
it is that was living inside of me
to the other side of my body
making my purpose
more than fulfilled

bury the remains
like a dead old friend

after all, I'm dead
to myself and the way things
used to be and now it's
only reality in front of me
keeping me going until all these
ifs and buts and deferred hopes
finally have meaning

i'm more alive now
than when my body
as it were was whole.

i'm at peace.

leave me be.

i don't need your questions or sympathy
i don't need to waste any time
trying to make you feel better
about something you've
never tried to understand
in the first place

it's my turn
to be selfish

to put a stop to
the habit that i've formed
of tearing myself apart
in order to make other people
feel more at peace, just to have
them move on, happy without me.

on the contrary.
i'm not expendable as you'd make me believe
you're luck to have had
a bit of me to grace
even the tiniest time of your life.

but i'll never tell you that.
because that voice is still in my head
telling me to
remain humble and how my
life is not just mine.

people need me.
**** it up and be there.
try and try again, even if
all you get in return is
boot prints on your face again.

it's worth it.
it'll be worth it.
one day i'll see if and all
of this will make sense
someway and somehow

the pieces will fit together and
form this picture more
incredible than i could
even dream of it being
in my mind now.

have patience.
you'll see it.

sewn back together.
one boot in front of the other.
life as i know it is beginning again.
I wrote this half asleep.
it's where i find the most honesty.
 Oct 2016 Atlas
Jack Jenkins
Maybe I'll get better
Maybe I won't
Maybe I'll take a chance
Maybe I'm too scared
Maybe I'll move on
Maybe I'm forever stuck
Maybe I'll change
Maybe I'm the same
Maybe there's too much I
Maybe it's not all about me
Maybe I should open my eyes
Maybe stitch up my heart
Certainly there's people hurting
Maybe I should help
 Oct 2016 Atlas
iambruised
imsorry
 Oct 2016 Atlas
iambruised
'I don't think you're capable of loving anyone',
he said
hands on steering wheel
twinkling eyes on the road

breath in.
breath out.
suddenly i forgot how to breath
pang on my chest
'but i love you' - i wanted to scream so bad.

but how could i say it
when i had never done that
how could i say it
when i had never learned to say it
how could i say it
when i had never loved anyone
before you
show me
teach me how
please
wait
a little bit
longer
as i
learn
how to love
for
there was
no one
else
before you

i desperately wanted to say so.
yet i let a little pained laugh.
'of course I am', I answered.
'tell me at least one person that you love other than your family'.
i could sense it
your hope dangling
you had been patiently waiting for me to say it out loud
yet still
how to say it?
how
say it, please.
now
please

i feel your disappointment
within those silence.
and i'm sorry.
for i could not say it out loud.
but i loved you.
and i still do.

*yet you're gone before i could even learn to say it.
and now
you left me screaming it to the world out loud alone
 Oct 2016 Atlas
Randy Mcpeek
Poets are..
Forgetful. But they remember everything. They forget appointments,and what time dinner is.But they remember what you wore,and how you smelled…
On that first date.
They remember every story you've ever told them- like ever. But forget what you just said.
They don't remember to water the plants,or to take out the trash. But they don't forget how to make you laugh.
Poets are forgetful.
Because...they are busy remembering the important things. Like how to love someone with all their heart.

Randy McPeek
I used to enjoy
Reading books in my empty bedroom
While I sipped on a cup of green tea
(Or whatever tea I had in my cup)
During the weekends

Singing songs
To an audience of nobody at all
Was also a hobby of mine
(One I very much enjoyed)

The darkness in my room,
That embraced me
During moments of depression,
No longer holds me like it used to

The day you walked fully into my life
Was the day I realized I was not solitary
And it was also the day
That I stopped fancying being alone
I miss her so much.
 Aug 2016 Atlas
JA Doetsch
I'm overcome with sadness

It's not the biting sadness
  The choked sobs
that are brought about
by the jolt of a sudden death
or the fresh sting of
a broken relationship

It's not the aching sadness
  The somber introspection
of missed opportunities,
of wasted days
of long lost loves

It's not the oppressive sadness
that depression brings,
wrapping around your head
in suffocating silence
that leaves you numb to the world
that makes you believe that happiness was
only a fairy tale

Rather...

It's the warm sadness
as the tinges of autumn begin to show
and you realize that the summer
was never meant to last forever

It's a familiar sadness as you realize
that everyone changes
and the person you once were
no longer exists, for better or worse

It's the sadness that nostalgia
tows along with fond memories
of summer vacations
of drunken antics
of foolish lust
of fading friendships

The sadness that tells you that
"Things will never be this way again"

But also reminds you that they were never supposed to be

   and that's perfectly alright
Been almost a year, figured I'd dust off the keyboard and see what's kicking around in my head.  I'm happy to say this one came out pretty easily.
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