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Courtney Nov 2014
sometimes when you fade into the
background of my thoughts (we all know that's not
often) I open my eyes and see the
city street again instead of your running
feet flashing down that hall  wrapped in gray
and the stars dim above our ceiling made
of streetlight beams and car exhaust,
twinkling so madly
desperate to be seen.
Courtney Jul 2014
I'd rather run
13.1 miles in
two hours
filled with
sweat and tears

than be your
kind of

Beautiful
again,

my dear.
Courtney Jul 2014
you come so easy to
me
like Taylor Swift songs and

breathing

and smiles
and the silence at
the end of
my thoughts
never felt so
full
without you

breathing

in and out
and on my neck
Courtney Apr 2014
help me I'm
drowning in

these
words

they won't
stop rising so
how's that
for

clichè
Courtney Mar 2014
needy eyes
burn into my
heart is
beating like
the sound of
turbulence
on an airplane
just before the crash
because

she needs

anything to
hold on to
my hands
I can
give you
what I'm
hanging on
to something
worthwhile but
the things
I hold are
just things

I wanted

and they're
not
what she

needs

after all
Courtney Mar 2014
Baby, don’t you love the way the storm clouds grin?
When the dark rolls in with the ocean night?
And our Mama built those sandcastles that we lived in
Every summer ‘til they washed out with the tide

Oh baby, don’t you love the way the red leaves fall?
All along the streets in those quiet towns
And they spiral down the same no matter where you are
Whipping wild in the wind onto the ground

Dear baby, did they tell you that when you were small
The place that you live now wasn’t where you called home?
Did they tell you ‘bout our Mama and the quiet hall
Where she cried after they left her all alone?

Oh babe, I hope they found a place for you somewhere
In a cottage or a castle on a hill
I hope there’s princesses and pages and a china set
And a little dress with lace and beads and frills

But baby, if you come out in the world someday
Full of so much good and still so much sin
Baby, look up as the dark rolls in with ocean tides
And we can both laugh while the storm clouds grin
Courtney Mar 2014
they tell me all good poetry begins
with something grotesque and huge
and Unknowable and all I know is it
doesn’t  
will never
begin
with your name
filling my head
swirling round  

between you
and the future
and the Lonely places
where souls go when
they can’t hear their thoughts anymore
and the idea that
maybe I can’t matter to anyone
because
I never Mattered to you

except as far as
two hours of
“don’t be scared”
and
“it’s okay”
and
“you’re beautiful”
can go and
I was confused
because

for a fleeting
second
I felt
honestly
truthfully
Beautiful

but if
that's what it
took
to feel
to be this
Beautiful
to you

then maybe I never wanted
want to be
beautiful
after all
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