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 Jul 2013 Céleste
Sean C Johnson
The sheer magnitude of what hung in suspension above me
The faint glimpses of the milky way galaxy iridescent and lovely
Desert sand the bed I longed for all this time
Trapped in awe I feel the stars shine
Down onto my skin caked with dust from whipping winds
Eyes set to what feels like heaven begging to be let in
Unaware I'm engulfed in it from the dust to silt to the limestone that warms my weathered soul
I can't fathom what holds
These stars above me immersed in their glory
Finally a part of all that lies before me
Never more at home than I am at this instant
Finally seeing I'm not looking at the fabric of the universe but rather I'm woven in it
 Jul 2013 Céleste
Claire E
I once knew a girl
Her hair was as golden as her locket  
Her eyes the color of the sea
Her skin as porcelain as her mothers china
She was so hungry for life, so alive
Innocent and naive
But in the best way possible
Because with innocence comes fortitude
There was no fear or fright
Oh how her future was so bright

And then it stopped,
Slowly and then all at once
Oh how that life faded from her in the blink of an eye
Anxiety came and swept her away
It's true what they say, only bad things happen quickly
And now when I look in the mirror I no longer see her

I see a sad, weak girl
Her hair no longer shines like gold
Her eyes now sunken in like the sea
Her skin so sallow and dull
Oh how I miss the girl I used to see
Oh how I miss I used to be
If you're listening please come back
This time I promise not to crack
 Jul 2013 Céleste
Chris
raindrops
 Jul 2013 Céleste
Chris
raindrops
only fall
when they can
no longer
be contained
so
I guess
they’re like
the words
flowing
out of
this loving heart
 Jul 2013 Céleste
Chris
They say some memories last forever,
if not in thoughts then in our fingers.
Like how your hands brushed past my skin,
and every time I wished they'd linger.

Every night we spent up late
taking drives up to the lake,
now stays buried in my head
along with words I never said.

Our hearts were silently exposed
like cooling hands on hardwood tables.
And your fingers traced the outlines
of all the faded, peeling labels.

I still see the ring stained outline
of where your coffee was left last.
I seem to wonder if it keeps
all the sorrow from our past.
 Jul 2013 Céleste
Chris
These words are for your lips
because I know how much you hate them.
I will use my own to lay these letters on them,
and I promise I will be as soft as the words
you spoke to me before the sun woke up.
I will sink my teeth into every crack and gaping crater,
and I will fill them with everything I have left.
My fingers will trace each newly opened scar,
and I will mend each one with suture made from steel.
And as you slowly chip away, I will
keep all of your pieces together,
because you do not need to be whole to be complete.
You do not need to be whole to be complete.
 Jul 2013 Céleste
Chris
I saw so much of you today,
even though I know you weren’t there.
Because every speck of dust
is just a piece you left behind.
And that’s okay.
I’m okay.
I swear I’m okay.
And that is no longer a lie.
I absorb rainfall through every pore
and sunsets through weary eyes.
They remind me that I am not incomplete.
And even though you keep so much of me,
there is still plenty left to give;
and I will pour it all out, just as you did.
Like how you showed me
every blemish,
every mistake,
every scar.
It didn’t matter how deep.
And I might be okay now,
but I’m so scared that I still
say your name in my sleep.
 Jul 2013 Céleste
Chris
These words aren’t about you.
They’re about the person I let rent space
inside my heart.
They’re about the times I wished I could go back
and say to them, “No it’s okay, you can stay longer
I don’t care if your payment is late."
Because having you there was enough.
But these words aren’t about you.
They’re for the person still hiding behind these drained eyes.
These shaking fingers.
These weak limbs.
And I’m still not sure which is better;
to feel everything at once or nothing at all.
Because sometimes it is both,
and you are the gushing waters drowning my lungs.
And sometimes it is neither,
and you are the words I wish I could take back.
We always left so many of them unsaid,
letting our bodies do the talking.
But now I wonder how many conversations
we’ve had with each other when we
thought we were asleep.
 Jul 2013 Céleste
Chris
I wish you’d stay.
After all you’ve seen inside this head,
I wish you’d stay.
I wish I had one little piece to
keep you here instead.
Because it’s been empty for so long now,
with just a handful passing through.
Maybe some day one of them will make it home,
but no matter how bad I wish it could be,
I guess it isn’t you.
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