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everything that smokes isn't always a gun
but sometimes it is
God doesn't always come in a pillar of fire
but sometimes you burn and i still call it holy
sometimes you hold me and i don't call it chains
my skin remembers you long after you leave
but i don't call it sunburn
maybe i should
maybe there was a gun 'cause i still have
all these holes
maybe you were God
maybe you were hell but you burn even slower
like a sunburn
i wrote this to take my mind off what i'm too scared to actually write about
 Jul 2016 Colleen Mary
Sarah
There was always something between them
even if later they might say other wise.
From day one their souls forged a connection
and for years they would wander in and out
of each others lives, always disrupting
each time leaving a larger hole.
The last time they spoke, she severed ties
but to cut him out was to cut out a piece of herself
a large portion of her heart, and rib cage
her left shoulder and her trust in men.
He on the other hand, was left with no heart
because she had stolen it six years ago
and he never even noticed it was gone.
the distance between us is not keeping me from missing you. i miss you. i miss you like how i miss myself since the day someone took a piece of me and never gave it back. i miss you like the emptiness inside of me that keeps me from being happy. i miss you like the days when i was still my daddy's girl and i wish i could bring back the way he looked at me again. i miss you like the song i heard once that i can't seem to get out of my head because the title is forgotten somewhere in there. i miss you like how i miss my friend that now lays inside a coffin with her name carved on a stone and inside my body. i miss you like how i miss breathing. i miss you like how the world yells at me for being this sad. i miss you like the soul i used to have.
re-posting this from my old account (that for some reason, i can't access now)
 Jul 2016 Colleen Mary
bs
And still late at night,
When I'm waiting for the bugs to bite
I still look for the word
That described how it felt to be kissing your world
I scrape through everything
So I name it after everyone
Who had ever let me down
And I still find it in myself
To pretend not to frown
To hope that someday someone will
Love me as much as they love being loved by me
But it just seems
Like I am too much
And at the same time,
Not enough.
All I know is
I'm tired of the nighthawks
Hunting me down
Stopping me from shutting my eyes
— 12:37
 Jul 2016 Colleen Mary
Leera
The envy I get seeing lovers,
Holding hands.
Caressing and beautifully staring
at their forever.

The wishful thinking that I feel seeing couples,
Happily walking.
Alongside each other
With the perfection they have for
one another.

The bitterness I feel seeing pairs,
Together, laughing
while I am alone
wishing of my own relationship
that others
would imagine as theirs.
There was a time when you were Sixteen and you were excited about life
Because you could only hope that the world would get bigger than a boys bed
And you were ready to see it for yourself

But now you are Eighteen and you're not sure how you've survived this long
Because you never learned how to sleep on your own

You don't know if the world got bigger, but you can be sure that you grew harder
Sometimes you may see that sixteen year old in your dreams, but she doesn't know you and you can't bring yourself to tell her

All you can do is wish her the best and send her on her way before she tries to fix you too
Because you know she will

Except you can't seem to shake her, and every night she sits in front of you with wide eyes, all while you tell her about who she became

But last night when you looked for your sweet Sixteen, she was nowhere to be found, and in her place was just an old dusty mirror

Maybe you'll cry for her and what she reminded you of
Or maybe you'll have a drink with her name on it, and you'll down the last thought of her

You are sure you won't cry, because Sixteen led to Seventeen, so it wasn't a good year anyway

But you will wish you had told her to remind her future lovers of what she is, you'll wish you had repeated it over and over until it was like a red flag on her head

YOU CANNOT LOVE A LIVE GRENADE UNTIL YOU KNOW WHO PULLED THE PIN
YOU CANNOT LOVE A LIVE GRENADE UNTIL YOU KNOW WHO PULLED THE PIN


But you were set to explode long ago, and you are still picking shrapnel out of your chest

And while you cannot breathe around the ache, you will still secretly hope that Twenty-Something can teach Eighteen a thing or two.
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