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Today I'm going to stop loving you.
You are hard to love, but loving you is not hard.
I love the scent of your skin as I lay next to you in bed,
And the way your laughter curls at the ends of your lips,
Then erupts across your face.
I love you even when you don't love yourself.
But my love for you makes me weak.
When your sharp words are filled with anger and wrapped in bitterness,
They pierce through my heart,
I clutch my chest as the air leaves my lungs.
The pain crashes over me in continuous waves,
And I'm trying to keep my head above the water,
But the tears from my eyes are flowing like open flood gates.
And I can no longer see where I'm going, so I collapse,
Into a puddle, still gasping for air.
Work in progress...
.
.


I lit a fire once
spent hours feeding it
fanning the flames,
stoking the embers
just so I could watch it burn
until I got bored
and decided
to watch it die
she gave me warmth, comfort, and love and in the end, I didn't even give her enough to keep going
Enveloped tightly in a space
that once provided enough
but never promised a lifetime.
She twists and unfurls
beneath its surface,
ignorant of even her own colors,
her shape, her scent, her purpose.
And when she breaks open,
it is not without fear of wilting.
It is not without fateful wonder.
Still, she blooms,
catching the sun
just as the universe intended.
© Bitsy Sanders, November 2016

You, with words of beauty,
speak in softer tones
where volume is not required
because vibrations
bring to light the meaning

Even if remaining quiet
calms the fears
drifting along your heart

Feelings still shout
in actions shown,
leaving only words unsaid
to speak the true meaning
of the silence
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