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Low lit room
Your perfume
Seeps into my lungs
Seeps into my lungs.

Transfixed eyes
Alibis
Slow this scene down
Slow this scene down
There you go.

Breathing slow
No one knows
You're halfway out my door
Halfway out my door
Watch you go.

So tell the trees
So I can be
Remove the traces of you
Remove the traces of you.

Lower your guns
Because no one won
I'm not your possibility
I'm not your possibility
Anymore.
I was reading this little story today.
A group of four-year olds were asked
“What is love?”
The answers were humorous.
They were cute, even true…
But I came across one
That made me think of you.
“I know my older sister loves me,
Because she gives me her old clothes,
And she has to go out and buy new ones.”
I smiled at this,
But thought about it some…
This little girl is right.
I’ve given you buckets of clothes.
I’d give you the shirt off my back,
Because an older sister’s love
Is the most selfless act.
I love you more than I love shoes,
Or the way it smells after it rains,
Or our conversations we have in the car.
You’re more than the sum of our memories,
And you’re more than our shared genetics,
You’re my best friend forever…
You always were, really,
Because who else would just let me cry
Over the stupidest things
While you just listen?
You always were the pretty one,
But you make me feel just as gorgeous.
I know I’m not.
But thanks for letting me believe it.
You’ve tested my patience a billion times,
But it only made me love you more.
You let me learn self-control,
You showed me how to love peoples’ flaws.
I chuckle.
I used to write you stories,
And now I write you poems.
My poems for you are my favorite ones, anyway.
 Apr 2013 Cameron Pfeifer
Clarisa
For now I see
How little
It all
Means
Tomorrow I may
Wake
With a different
Take
But for now
I can't find
A single
****
To
Feel
For you
 Apr 2013 Cameron Pfeifer
Clarisa
I want to be kissed
Kissed in the
Rain
Like a sweet drop
Of heaven
Falling on me
Just one moment
Of pure joy
To be kissed in
The rain
By that one speaciel
Boy
 Apr 2013 Cameron Pfeifer
Clarisa
A poem
Is a
Poem
Is a
Poem
It's sweet
It's angry
It's kind
But in the end
It's mine
Left alone on this makeshift raft,
Drifting further into the wake -
All I see is darkness...
Slowly collapsing upon my bones,

Waiting to be resolved -
To be encapsulated with meaning,
A filament of hope to define our love...
Show me my life is not *insignificant.
 Apr 2013 Cameron Pfeifer
bambi
I was told that the people you love
turn to ghosts inside of you
and like this, they survive.

But no one's ever told
how it feels to become the ghosts
that loathe being kept alive.
I've been gone, feedback is very welcome.
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