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Apr 2014 · 305
Untitled
hannah Apr 2014
How am I going to put you into words without making a mess?
I am a mess
This pencil is a kinked hose and my garden is dying by the second
This paper is a safe and I forgot the combination
This music makes no sound and this silence is too loud
Am i screaming loud enough for you?
Can you hear me over your own problems and your white lie whispers?
Can you taste me over the bitterness of your own tongue?
I need to lay down because I can't stand to see you.
Apr 2014 · 387
Hollow
hannah Apr 2014
I imagine other stomachs
are full of gardens with flowers
but mostly butterflies

i think i forgot to cover up the holes
when i planted my seeds
because all thats left now is hollow
like an old log

maybe that's why i eat to much
but also too little
and try to fill the hole up
to make the plants grow
and bring the butterflies in

what i don't know is that
my stomach will grow a rose bush
the thorns will *****
and my stomach will bleed
for hollowness again
Mar 2014 · 572
(s)he
hannah Mar 2014
he was an unswept floor
she was unsolved rubik's cube

he taught her to write poetry
she taught him to love

she said that love was a butterfly
he'd never even been in a cocoon

he said that words were twelve story buildings
she was afraid of heights

he was a creaky old cabin
she was an unfinished jigsaw puzzle

but he had the missing piece, lost in the dust behind his rickety counters
and she was a fixer upper, looking for a renovation

they were red stripes with orange plaid
they were mismatched socks

both so different
both so lost
c
Jan 2014 · 515
You
hannah Jan 2014
You
I am holding on to your words like breaths of air
and it's not right to suffocate myself like this
replaying you like an old tape that skips
broken memories to match the shards of glass inside
on which I've cut myself too many times
lyrics that mean nothing but memories
a beat that makes the pit in my stomach grow
louder than the colours on your bedroom wall
and I can paint with them all.
paint the awkward hugs goodbye
the chance encounters on the street that we were never lucky enough to have
I can paint over the population sign
but you'll always inhabit my mind
c
Jan 2014 · 333
Untitled
hannah Jan 2014
Plucked into a room with multiple doors
They tell us to keep them all open
pick one door
They tell us
pick it now
In a sea of desperation
we see each door as an exit only
As if once a door is picked
there are no do overs
We can change our minds
but can we change our paths?
Because maybe the house
was made for us to explore
c
Dec 2013 · 418
one slight motion
hannah Dec 2013
one slight motion
held the end of happiness
the beginning of lonely nights
and hungover mornings
in one slight motion
i could feel everything
              c                
         r            
u        
m      
b    
l  
e
around me like towers
and i knew i never should have built them that high
because the impact was stronger
than the wave goodbye
Nov 2013 · 627
awake
hannah Nov 2013
it's the darkness
and the dead of the night
that make my mind open up
when the city lies down
taking midnight strolls down memory lane
and the circles under my eyes
start to match the nighttime sky
Nov 2013 · 263
Untitled
hannah Nov 2013
Your voice rings in my ear like a perfect pitch
your words dance across my mind like notes
If you are music
then I am a musician
and our love is a composition
Every note speaks
Every rest makes them listen closer
Nov 2013 · 390
Gone
hannah Nov 2013
A flash of colour and hope
vanishes
around the corner,
as I paint over the population sign.
You'll always inhabit my mind.
Nov 2013 · 867
Oversized Sweater
hannah Nov 2013
The threads and colours embody all that i want, wrapped loosely around me in a warm hug, slightly too large. I get carried away by the coziness and the smell of it all, the memories within the stitches.
Nov 2013 · 656
unstable
hannah Nov 2013
While others drink themselves into
instability,
I think myself into
states of mind
that haven't even been named yet.
Nov 2013 · 473
snakeskin
hannah Nov 2013
You slithered up and left your sheds on my front porch, like a serpent i made crawl out of it's own skin
Yet on the new skin the bruises remain and it's too bad our minds can't shed old layers of things that we never want to remember

— The End —