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 Dec 2016
phil roberts
When your footsteps falter and slip
Hold on to me
If your eyes fill with tears
And the future seems blurred and distant
I'll be there to take your hand
You may not see me
But you'll feel me there
Right beside you
Always
So hold on to me

                        By Phil Roberts
 Dec 2016
Colleen Mary
september 2016
four-and-a-half months of almost nothing besides the comforting grey fleece of yours that I ashamedly clung onto, foolishly thinking that would freeze everything between us that once was.
now I can't help but feel stupid when I look back that I missed the signs I was just playing your next victim.
**** it, it just felt nice to have someone who cared and you barely had to put any effort in but it was enough to keep me radiating with happiness.
and now I am sure that it is merely the idea of you that haunts me almost five months later, because the presence of present you sure as hell isn't the same version of the you that's stuck in my head.
you know that I wanted you and to do you good at that, but of course you had to push me away because who has time to care let alone be cared about?
ha, caring
not a thing about how it used to be makes sense in the now, but I know I'm just wasting my thoughts away thinking about that.
you're still playing this game though and I wish you would stop.
I'm playing this game back but we both know I don't stand a chance.
a simple "What are you doing" and "Come over?" and BAM, I'm all yours.
except, just this last time something was real different that I don't think I'm going to be able to shake.
ran around for an hour in the rain trying to meet up with you as I still didn't want to let you down despite all of your *******.
when my teeth- chattering, soaked from head-to toe self finally made it to you and laid beside you in bed, it felt just like old times for a split second or two.
it was then that I reminded you that I still had your hoodie.
you barely remembered that I still had it and acted as though you couldn't even remember why you let me borrow it in the first place.

december 2016**
**** it, another 3 months came and went and i never built up the nerve to throw your hoodie back at you and walk out of your life.
every time i went to do so you crept back in as though you had missed me, i knew better that you hadn't but i wanted so badly to believe it.
i don't understand why i can't shake the good times we've shared in the past and why i just can't seem to move on.
back in september i couldn't even sleep next to you because i barely recognized the version of you lying next to me. guilt consumed my entire being and i had to get up and leave your embrace. lying alone in my own bed had never seemed more appealing in my life. with that thought, i left your side at 5 am that crisp September morning and ran across town to my apartment and vowed to never put myself in that predicament again. that predicament, of course, being your faux caring embrace, your toxic kisses, and your complete naivety. i like to tell myself that you are just naive to how much hurt you have truly caused me, because otherwise some of what you have done (if intentional) should be a **** crime. it ***** feeling as though i am not enough for you, i don't know why i care but that's all i've wanted to be. as the weather got colder, i got weaker. although i promised to give you up, i still wanted you near me. after a few too many drinks, i seem to continue to become a mere thought in your mind. stupid me, i seem to always get this confused as you actually giving a flying **** about me. if i said that i want more than anything to leave you in the past, i'd unfortunately be lying to myself. i know this needs to be done, but all i can hope for now is that sooner rather than later- the flicker of hope that i still have extinguishes itself.

to be continued.........
So essentially I really **** at letting go of people that I allow myself to get close to and although it ***** a lot, it gives me a lot to write about. I actually wrote the first part of this back in September and e-mailed myself a draft and then was reminded about it when I was going through old e-mails earlier today. I wrote the second part right now on the spot and although I realize I'm terrible at getting over things, I think it captures a lot of emotions that others can quite possibly relate to.
 Dec 2016
Akira Chinen
She is a dream stuck between
a first kiss and a dying wish
an eternity trapped in a moment
and a forever lost long ago
the dried bones of an angels spine
and the dust from a dead humming birds wing
the hidden fire in a dragons belly
and the color of a mermaids breath
the first hairs of a paint brush
and the last drop of paint
the thread that stitches beauty to a heart
and the dull edge that cuts love apart
the keeper of the universes secrets
and the narrator that spills the truth at the end
the blood flowing through life
and the wind that warns of death
the end of time
and the begining of nothing and nowhere
she is and she isn't
and every star and every leaf
knows her by name
and yesterday and tomorrow
live in the space between her eyes
and today is just a dream
she continuously spins
on the end of her fingertips
She's a beautiful woman.

When age left her side
she grew a bed of marigold
blooming yellow and red
catching sunshine in winter
and as the years tiptoed to her
a fresh bed of love she made
and lay thereupon newly wed.
 Dec 2016
r
A stare
will become
a scar
if you don't watch it
like a hawk
and if you let it
loose darkness
will swoop
through the rafters
in the loft
while you lie there
letting night
swell into a wound
like the red moon
and your eyes
will fill with vines
of poison ivey
itching to be blind
and wishing
to pour the pain
away forevermore.
 Dec 2016
Alyssa De Marzo
?¿
Where do I go when the house don't feel like home
Who do I call when I've pushed away my own
When will I trust the people of this earth
How do I allow myself to learn my own self worth
Why can I answer others questions but never my own
And where do I go when the house don't feel like home
 Dec 2016
Beth Taylor
it should be noted that girls don't always come from venus, that some boys might be a little deader than they were before they claimed you took their breath away.
some girls have barbed wire around their hearts, and others have white flags. some boys have touched more cigarettes than thighs, more blades in the bathroom sink than the ones in her shoulders. the city might whisper the name of one boy and tremble at the thought of another; a girl might  have a hit list with only one name on it — her own. some boys will **** just to say they lost their virginity and some boys will spend the rest of their lives making love as though they could gain it back; some girls have lost their tears and sweat in the upholstery of the same car that might belong to one of these boys — and some of those same boys are sweaty handprints on the backseat windows while others are fingerprints on your throat, but no matter how you look at it, he will always leave his mark, won't he?
it should be noted that some girls will miss you like hiroshima playgrounds miss the laughter of young children, but others will miss you like an 11:30 flight at 11:31, and i bet you never knew that some boys will never tell you that they miss their father just as much as some girls calling everyone else 'daddy' except for the one they truly need; you'd never believe me if i said that some girls look at the night sky where they used to see their reelection in the stars, but now only see another broken mirror.
it should be noted, that not all boys are from mars.
 Dec 2016
Ntwari
The moment was brief
But I saw through your cracks
And saw your missing pieces

Behind that mask of yours
Behind that smile you love to wear
Is a child drowning int its own tears
A soul in need of fixing

There's no need to hide your broken pieces
I want to put you back together
I can help you

The ecstasy of our embrace
Can be the glue that holds you together,
The soil that can make your grow
I can be your nurse
The artist that decorates your soul
With the beauty embedded in your broken self

With your shattered pieces
We can make something beautiful
Pieces of the past that hold together my present self
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