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 Sep 2014 Azariah Eaman
Caitlin S
This morning I buried my head in your pillow,
I wept some how even more.
I can barely smell your scent on it;
Less than the day before.

This morning I woke up,
For a moment I forgot that you were gone.
Just for a few sweet seconds,
I did not know it has been so long.

This morning I count up the minutes,
From the moment I saw you last.
I am not able to leave you behind,
To abandon you in the past.

This morning I remember you so fondly,
It is like you never left.
Even though your heart stopped beating,
To have known you I am blessed.
 Sep 2014 Azariah Eaman
Twinkle
Don't make me laugh
Your not in love with me
Let me tell you why
It's just your fantasy

Cause this is not love
You surely are mistaken
You've never felt love 
or anything close to it
Cause you never had 
love to under stand
You were too busy with pleasing
Standing up to expectations
Trying to fit a larger than life figure
Chasing dreams that were impossible
You drove yourself harder 
Hoping that somehow you'd make up for the affection you did not receive.
Your running on empty 
And empty is all you can give.

Love is not keeping yourself bottled
And taking flight for the smallest threat.
To your grandiosity.
Love is not sending cryptic clues
Trying to gauge responses
Love is not in hiding
But in making itself felt
Love's presence is silent
Yet the warmth radiates.

So I have nothing to expect from you.
Your tethering is not astonishing
I can understand the see-saw you feel inside.
An emotional wave you fear to ride.

So it's best we let bygones be what they are meant to be.
Don't start the process all over.
Try not to kindle the spark
Cause the fires have blown over.
I've healed myself, of the emptiness you've left behind.
I am not turning back this time.
My resolve is deep,  my mind made up.
I have promises made to myself.
To live a full life and always be content.

So, heads up I walk into my future
Closing the door of my past.
Letting go of the riddle of a relationship
And leaving the hurt behind.
You are now a closed chapter.
The book I could not complete.
Sometimes they just don't get it when it's over.
I wrote you a text message
But I didn't hit send.
I started to call you
but instead
i hit end.
<3
Every time I didn't,
I almost did.
<3
all your hair pulled into the little knot on top your head caught my eye, no doubt.
Or maybe, it had something to do with the way your bottom lip pouts.
Or how, thanks to those thick glasses the oceans of your eyes are magnified.
God only knew there'd be a tsunami when you cried.
you always looked as if you were about to cry.
I hope there's a storm named after you.
I'll listen for your name on the weather, news and the radio.
Because I know I'll never see it flash across my phone.
<3
You never showed up that night.
Why'd you leave me alone?
I don't hate you.
Please, don't think that.
It just still hurts,
the way you
knocked me
off of my
throne
<3
I don't hate you, You were a great story.
But every book ends.
Try to believe me, I really do want to read it again and again.
But every library book has to be returned.
or there's a large fee and my pockets are burned.
you see the world is our library.
and I only borrowed your story.
I have to return you now back to your shelf.
for you to collect dust and reflect on yourself.
one day someone will show more love than I did when they turn your pages.
And they will release all your unpublished chapters from their cages.
all in different writing and editing stages.
and all written in braile because love is blind.
Our Story Is Overdue.
I can't pay the fine.
I have to
return
you.
</3

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
I just really need to get to the library.
 Sep 2014 Azariah Eaman
Kristina
Distract me from missing him
Because I'm missing the home
I made on his lips
And in his eyes
I'm missing how safe I felt
Wrapped up in his voice
Getting lost between his skin
Felt as if I was floating on a golden cloud
Oh I felt so wowed
And even silencing my thoughts
Went so smoothly for him
That I almost wondered if he was my Castiel
If we were ever meant to be..
If he was my Eric,and I was his Ariel
And if we could live beyond the sea.
and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it
she was leaving
and got the gumption
to see me before she did
so we went to dinner
she sat, crumpled
at the edge of the booth
playing with her silverware
hands sweating
our knees barely touching
underneath the table
they shook like the day we met
they shook like floodgates
when the clouds get upset
her hair was drawn back
into an apology
and she didn't answer
when the waiter asked for drinks
she pans, tilts
looking for the restroom
but doesn't get up
covers her mouth
to hide her furled chin
i cut her a piece of bread
not sparingly
i didn't want to ruin the symbolism
of cutting a gangrenous thing
from ones self
she half wept out "tell me a joke"
i thought to say "look at us."
that's it. that's the joke.
the premise & the punch line
sharing some silence
here in this ominous moment
so thick with goodbye
you could touch it
i said "when they asked what the name was for the wait, i should've said "awkward, party of 2"
but that's not the joke
"knock knock"
she whispered "who's there?"
i sat for a moment and said
"so we've come full circle.. we're even in the same seats, from all those months ago"
her lips quivered
and she hid her mouth
"i just wanted to hear a joke"
she said
i came back with
*"if i fell for you in a quiet restaurant & no one was around to hear it, does the laughter of children i drempt we'd have make a sound?"
When I asked you to fix me,
You told me I wasn't broken.
But, let this soak in.
I just wanted to know,
If i was still a pretty enough picture to be worth, agonizing over a puzzle.
Even when it's a struggle.
And you have to nuzzle each piece into place,
Kissing the pieces bent out of shape,
Searching for pieces gone missing,
But you can't make a raisin back into a grape.
Yes, I Remember your middle name
And who says we can't celebrate failure?
Don't be sad, we tried, we tried.
When you write your story in the sand it washes away with the tide.
It isn't our fault.
We may have cut ourselves open, But we didn't ask for the salt in our
wounds
Can I still say "we"?
I guess you're kind of done with me.
I don't blame you, Puzzles are frustrating.
they're a tease.
Please, tell me I haven't lost the most important piece.
Tell me I haven't lost
you.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
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