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Chamilla Colton Dec 2017
It's just...hard. You know?
It's kind of hard, I guess.

I don't know if 'hard' is the correct adjective to explain the situation, though.

Maybe... Difficult.
Resistant?... Rigid?

Are there too many spaces between my words?
Are there too many words?

Is it too long? Yeah, maybe it's too long.
But I like the words I used.
Everything was explained perfectly.
So what's wrong?

Is    there    not    enough    spacing    between    my ­   words?
Are there not enough words?

Did I not say enough?
Did I say too much?
What got us here....

Maybe I'm just scared so I close up.
Maybe I'm too much of a mess, that me being busy is an only escape so I don't hear myself think.

I hate hearing myself think.
I hate the quite outside, but the white nose inside.
You know?

That there's so much noise going on, you start to tremble
because the anxiety just stomps on your chest.
It's just hoping that you somehow die from the pressure.
It's just somehow hoping that your heart races so fast that it just...
Stops.
Or explodes.
Either one works for anxiety.

If I told you everything that went on in my head, would you even consider staying anymore?
If I opened up more than what I already have, would you even consider wanting me?
Not wanting..
If I opened up more than what I already have, would you even consider needing me?

I just don't know what to say.
You know?
There's so much going on, I'm speechless.

My mind is racing but it's blank.

That makes sense, right?
That there's just so much going on in your head that it...Crashes.
That it just stops functioning for awhile.

I was going to ask how you were today...
But I felt that if I did, you'd get an anxiety attack. So I kept to myself..
I mean, I opened up to my best friend,
but he isn't you.

Nothing seems to blossom as quickly anymore.
Or at all.
Kind of as if my writing has this long, long, pause for awhile.
No matter how passionate my fingers want to get,
I sit here.
Fingertips shaking slightly over the keys on the keyboard.
My mind just sprinting with things to say but nothing ever goes to the screen.
It's like theres an indestructible barricade that stops just at the very first knuckle before it gets to my fingertips.

Then the passion leaves.
My minds a mess right now and poetry is the only thing I can really turn to anymore lmaoooo. So I'm sorry if I post a ton of poems that are low-key related to some stuff that goes on in my head right now.
  Dec 2017 Chamilla Colton
CAM
Why do I use 20 questions to identify how well I know you? Is it...
Because I know I can barely answer twenty questions about myself?

Twenty. Simple, right? Never.
What's your favourite colour? Always first.

Where is your happy place? Usually second. Followed by...
Where do your roots plant you? And then we get personal... A bit.
What do you hate most about yourself? For you it was everything...
Why should I hate the same things you do?
I like everything about you...

Why do I write lists so I can remember? I may never know.
To remember what? Your voice, your look, you....
Why do I miss you so much?

Why am I still writing to you? You'll never read this.
Why am I missing you? It's been four months.

Why do I look at old pictures of you? Is it...
Because I miss you? Maybe it's something else...

Why did you become a big part of my soul? My other half?
Why are you still there? Because I miss you...

I can't stop thinking about why? I miss you...
What is keeping me here?
Oh yeah. You.
I play twenty questions to know people. To let people know me. It's weird.
  Dec 2017 Chamilla Colton
abi evans
4 days have passed
and you're all i've had in my head
a broken record
playing over
and over
and over again

i'm sorry our conversation turned the way it did
i never wanted to tell you
because i had already broken your heart
but i didn't want to lie to you again

you always hated when i lied

i always hated when your collar was up
and you knew that
just to see the face i always made
i bite my lip and fidget with my ring

how i'd love to fix it for you
how i'd love to brush the hair out of your eyes
how i'd love
to hold you again
i've finally written a poem, i'm sorry it's taken so long
  Dec 2017 Chamilla Colton
abi evans
i've seen all of you
from your victories
to your anxiety attacks at 3:00 am

i don't think i've ever seen you in ankle socks
Chamilla Colton Nov 2017
The moment he was born, you had that motherly instinct to protect your newborn angel.

No matter what you had to do in order to protect him, you'd do it.

As a mother, you love him with every fiber of your being, just like you should.

But in just two seconds, your life changed.

"Never Shake A Baby." You said. And that's all you ever did say; even though you said so much after that.

"He won't live to be one year." They said. And that's all you were ever told; even though you loving him gave him the life to live 9 years after that.

You see, you gave him life. Not by birthing him. But by unconditionally loving him so much, you created his life from that point on.

You understand what he says to you.
You understand what he gestures to you.
Because only you can understand what your angel is saying to you.

Throughout everything he's experienced, you were there.
It didn't matter if you were doing double shifts, or had to be held back late for work.
As long as you got to see him, you were perfectly fine.

You love him, just as much as he loves you.
You're his first true love. His first heartthrob.

He reaches for you when you kiss him. He gets as close as possible to you because he wants you.
He tries to hug you and love you back.
Because he loves you.

So.....This one's for you ❤
This is for a mother who does nothing but love her son. This One's, For You.
Chamilla Colton Nov 2017
How can you sleep at night.
How can you sleep at night knowing you hit your kid.
How can you remotely feel good about yourself, knowing you punched your kid.

Don't you come up with the excuse of "It's your way of discipline." or that "He doesn't respect you."

A parent shouldn't hit their kids.
A parent shouldn't tear down their kids.
A parent shouldn't hurt their kids, in such a disgusting and inhumane manner.

And you.
Yes you, kid.

IT.
IS.
NOT.
YOUR.
FAULT.

YOU aren't the problem.

A parent who does this to their children are the problem.

Not just as a parent.

But as a human being overall.
Chamilla Colton Nov 2017
"I love you to the end of time.

And even after that, you're still mine"
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