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Aug 18 · 321
18 on the 18th
audrey Aug 18
You realize, as you’re sitting on your bed, holding the phone you begged your mommy to buy just months ago, that 18 is so far from 17. 17 was so beautiful; with youth in all its glory and the future just seemed so out of grasp. And yet, you grow and while growing, you make friends that you share your secrets to when dawn peeks, you make decisions that could change your life unknowingly and you fall in love, a love that’s raw and free, a love you can only have at 17. But somehow at 18, you lose the friends through petty fights and those shared secrets were now secrets for strangers, you make the wrong decisions because they were different from the decisions you once made at 17, and you fall out of love, a love you thought would last forever because of empty promises you made when everything seemed possible. 18 is beautiful too, you realize, because you can do all the things you did at 17, but not the way you did at 17. At 18, you make friends and you don’t share your secrets at the wee hours of the night but you share your goals, your passions and funky music you heard on the radio that plays during the late afternoon drives. At 18, you make decisions you never did at 17. It’s scary at first, but you’re no longer 17 and at 18, things are different, you’re more mature and you hold yourself with confidence and you stand up for the decisions you make. At 18, you fall in love again, but not with a boy that reeks of mud and barely has ****** hair, instead, you fall in love with yourself. You fall in love with your stomach that’s not flat, you fall in love with your dainty fingers and you fall in love with the life you created that you never really loved at 17. The phone in your hand dings, it’s a message from a friend you thought you lost at 17: ‘happy birthday.’ The screen blackens because you know you can reply later because when you’re 18, 19 seems so far away.
Aug 13 · 43
audrey Aug 13
i see hills and the sun
but not the ones on paper,
with sunnies drawn on in crayon,
i see overlapping fields,
but not the one with daises and frills
i see them pass the horizon
i know i will never come to touch
Aug 13 · 38
audrey Aug 13
the station i stood up
slowly disappearing into the rusty air,
the carrier windows are big and bright
yet i still see the shadows
cascading down my back
the curtains flap and clap
in between i see fragments
it’s luminescent in my eyes
but it flickers in ambiguity
an enigma i have yet to decrypt
Jul 10 · 226
I am not a writer
audrey Jul 10
She tells me “write, and never stop writing.” She pauses for a second before continuing, “for the one that creates, never disintegrates.”

“I am nothing but a personified soul that spews out meaningless words.” I reply.

“And yet you give reason and feeling to consonants and vowels that once meant nothing.” She tells me, peering over me or is she staring straight into my cortex? I can’t seem to figure that out through her black beaded pupils.
Jul 10 · 37
audrey Jul 10
the cathartic breath,
burrowed beneath my lungs,
i hear it gasping, panting,
choking for air,
caged between my ribs
for i never let it free into the abyss,
it burgeons and flourishes
until any arrow that hits it,
will never miss.
Jul 10 · 55
audrey Jul 10
for the light,
that could never
reflect high enough,
for the first time,
has reached the peaks.
Jul 10 · 127
audrey Jul 10
you never realize how bright you shine until you’re engulfed in your own darkness
May 8 · 438
audrey May 8
my mother's words
always rang before
any step forward,
halfway down the hallway,
i realized;
my destiny was not
for her to write
May 1 · 198
odd in the even
audrey May 1
for the caterpillar
that never seemed
to blend in with
the butterflies
will bloom
more beautiful
than the flower
it stands upon
beauty coming of age growing up
Apr 28 · 365
audrey Apr 28
rather than the pretty rose,
that was showered with
praise and poise
and sunshine smiles,
the mimosa plant always was
pricked by the curious calico cat,
curling into itself
and if i were to do the same,
would i disappear too?
Apr 28 · 290
audrey Apr 28
oh it's all so foggy,
clouded and uncertain
but i knew
i could always step over the ledge
and then,
it'll all be clear.
Apr 28 · 360
audrey Apr 28
the sun rose in the east,
only cries and wails
in white hoarded rooms,
where a new day starts,
and endings birthed,
and where the sun
sets in the west,
waiting for a better
Nov 2015 · 912
lines and crosses
audrey Nov 2015
the white hospital room,
laid a ******* her bed
bruises, scars, scratches,
with lines and crosses
dancing across her skin
dried tears and
freckles dusted lightly
amongst her temples.
with wires wrapped
around her body,
he holds her hands,
afraid of letting her
Oct 2015 · 651
audrey Oct 2015
i hear sobs through the paper thin walls,
i feel the grief swimming
in my veins,
the lit cigarette filled
with nicotine and
chemicals, i inhale.
filthy tobacco
smoke clouds my mind,
blocking the colours
of violet of these bruises,
i exhale.
i look out the opened window, seeing a horizon
of stars and constellations,
constantly battling.
the moon, shining oh
so bright;
i stare at it, with
wisps of sadness
and despair
hoping someone,
will look back.

— The End —