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 Jan 2019 Jenna
Tom Leveille
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
 Mar 2017 Jenna
storm siren
What are you supposed to do
When your worst fears
Begin to come true?

I don't mean to sound self-loathing,
But I warned you.
This is what you get
For loving the sick girl.

Please don't be surprised
Or confused.
I warned you,
And I tried, before, to give you multiple outs.
Whether it be by pushing you away,
Or explicitly explaining
How I am, and what usually happens.

I can't make this feeling of worthlessness
Go away just because I want it to.

I can't pretend I'm confident when
There are just so many things
I'm terrible at.

And I can't just be better,
Stop being anxious,
Stop being depressed,
Stop not focusing,
Stop being manic or dysphoric.

It takes more than wanting to be better.

It takes a lot of work.

And while I know I can't do it on my own,
I understand if you don't want to help.
Or if you can't.

But this is what you signed up for
When you started loving the sick girl.
And personally, I feel bad for you. I know that if I had the choice, I wouldn't want to stick around either.
 Feb 2017 Jenna
Athena
Smoke it baby
 Feb 2017 Jenna
Athena
once in a while
they’ll ask me if i’m over him
then casually shifting the topic
to the new girl
he’s been hanging out with.
Like how she was
the epitome of the girl of his dreams
how she could have made any man
yield to her desires
how he wished I could be more like her
My friends inconsiderably talking about him
while I bite my tongue
hoping they would stop for a second
and think about how much this conversation
kills me more than my vices
He was the best mistake I made
falling for a man who smoked
his dreams to grey
 Jan 2017 Jenna
Caitlyn Emilie
So sleep deprived, yet I still can't seem to sleep.

Thoughts about you and I course through my veins and wash over me.

Memories flood my eyes, provoking tears to stain my cheeks.

This distance.

This heartache.

Plummeting me into the ground.

Stabbing at my heart with vicious intentions.
Been a while since I put words on paper. Played with this concept tonight.
 Jan 2017 Jenna
Tyler Lockwood
Something isn't right
We're in the back of my car and she slides my hand up her shirt.
Her skin feels strange and unfamiliar
beneath my fingertips and her breath feels dangerous against my bruised neck.
Her hair feels foreign tangled in my hands.
Her lips feel wrong pressed against mine.
She says my name, but it sounds nothing like the way that you used to say it.
She isn't you.
She can never be you.
 Jan 2017 Jenna
L
.
 Jan 2017 Jenna
L
.
long story short;
you left when
all I asked you is
to *stay
- January 12, 2017
 Jan 2017 Jenna
Steph Dionisio
Her lips try not to utter a single word about you,
and her heart is restraining from letting you feel it.
So she hides your name in every poem she makes;
where there is freedom to say that–
your smile gives her warm,
the look in your eyes is her weakness,
your touch leaves verses,
and your presence is an embrace.
You are the beautiful idea of her poetry–
the reason behind her glee.

*-Steph Dionisio, January 11, 2017
 Jan 2017 Jenna
erin walts
Your favorite color is green
But my eyes will always be brown
 Nov 2016 Jenna
smallblank
Loving you in the form of forced "I love you"'s between every touch, between every doubt inside that screams "no" while you keep screaming "yes" but all I wanted was for you to touch my heart the same way you touched my thighs and grabbed my face unapologetically
Loving you in the form of bare feet on wet pavement similar to the way you carefully walked your way into my mind. I wish every natural disaster would sound like our hurricanes of false "I love you"'s and forced moans

Losing you in the form of blankets on that cold November morning when our hearts were no longer fabricated to beat the same. I never quite forgot the way the frost matched the color of your eyes the day you decided loving me was as worthless as hiding from the monsters that lived in your head. Losing you in a form quite similar to the closest way we made love; you'd lie with I love you after minutes of me hoping you'd stop. The cadence of your voice became stale and I think I could see winter in your eyes even when I was not looking at you and my sighs became more frostbitten than your words.

Missing you in the form of sweaty palms but you never really were one for holding hands and now your fingers are shaking harder than they did during our first kiss but it wasn't our first kiss I missed, it was every one after that and the way you'd whisper I love you as if one time you truly meant it, just to watch me walk away when I thought I'd had enough. Missing you in the form of wearing your deodorant every night after years of you being gone because I will never feel safe without your memory. I was clinging to your memory in hopes that these nightmares aren't my reality but you never woke me up and I'm still waiting to be held by your words.

Forgetting you in the form of burnt love letters smothering out your voice in my head but still stinging deeper than any cut you placed on my heart. I still remember the rush of blood to my face the first time we touched, but now I wonder if the heat was a spark in interest or a warning sign. Forgetting you in the form of sleeping the time away, just to see your silhouette in my dreams. I don't trust my own two hands, how can I ever grasp yours again? Forgetting you was slam poetry except its not beautiful at all and the only thing being slammed is the doors to my heart because I'm not sure if it's safe inside anymore.
 Nov 2016 Jenna
Tom Leveille
i always thought
you were thru traffic
that you were just jet lag
background noise
the kiss in the rain
i've never had
but what if you aren't?
what if this
was the thousandth time
i have loved you?
what if this is just a fresh coat of paint?
what if god
keeps a handkerchief
soaked in the day we met
next to his bed?
maybe theres a reason
i reach for no one in bed
the way i would
if someone used to be there
you know, they say
the road behind us
is littered with things
we couldn't hold onto
i wonder how many times
you've slipped through my hands
like hour glass sand
do you know
how much erosion you've caused?
i heard cupid
stopped keeping count
of how many times
we came together
just to come apart again
maybe it was just a rumor
it makes me think
about how many times
i've almost had you
like if all this talk
about history repeating itself
endlessly replaying is true
i wonder how many times
things have happened already
like the time
i tried talking you
into loving me back
back fired
or the time i could have sworn
jesus & lazarus were playing chess
with my heartbeat
but it was only you smiling
how many times
have i tried to tell you
how many times
have you read this poem
how many times
have i tried not to meet you
in my dreams anymore
it's like sleep tries to warn
me of what's happening
before it does but
i keep having this dream
where i tell you bedtime stories
and each one
is a different way you die
and in every one
i can never save you
it's like you're this song
i have on repeat
and every time it starts over
i forget the words
it's like you picked up the book entitled "us"
and the back cover
said you'd leave
so you never bothered reading it
tell me you aren't
going back in that bookstore
just to do it again
or will you tell me tomorrow?
or is this the time
you don't say anything at all?
if this has all happened before
if we call it quits
before we begin
again
from the beginning
i just want to ask you
to be my fire
because i am tired
of these old lives
and i'd like to see them
burn
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