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She sipped her coffee even though it carried a faint hint of nicotine.
She smiled back at strangers even when their eyes said:
"I won't be kind, I won't be gentle."
Her skirt hugged her hips
her blouse hung from two silken threads
around a pale skeleton, bruises blossom around her ribs.
Still, she walked beneath the moon
hot breath on her neck from a unnamed man
whom she knew only by the taste of his lips
and the green Jackson's stuffed in her bra.
She begged for the dawn every night.
This couch
never felt so frigid
covered in ice
laced with
an
image,
your
dress
on the frosty
floors
as mine
and yours
becomes
ours
.
Daniel Magner 2013
I lay beside you
to touch you, to hold your hand.
cold marble replied.
a haiku
from the little hill
in the cemetary
You had just gone.
I heard your door close.
You'd touched my hair and smiled at me
And left
And I'd called after that you were beautiful,
That I meant it.
And when I'd heard the click,
The tears had started
And I'd let them come.
Crying over you feels like being saved.
I let my head fall back
As if basking in a summer rain
And eventually those tears brought me to my knees-
There is always a backlash, to feeling saved-
And I curled up as tight as I could on the floor
And- I don't know why I said it,
I never say things like this, never-
But I remember whispering very softly,
"I'm still here. Please know I'm still here.
Please come back out and check.
Please... I'm still here."
And a moment passed
In utter silence,
And I hauled myself off the ground,
Wiped away a good part of the tears,
Turned to the window to let the cold air kiss my face
And brace me for the walk back to my room

And I heard the door open.
No, it can't be...

You heard me.
You came back,
And took me in your arms,
And nobody
Has ever done that for me before.
I once met a painter
she had some promising talent
her hands traced figures in her white canvas
and gave so much detail to every single movement

I once met a painter
she always had her hair in a ponytail
her eyes weren't amazing
but they were great
at least that's the only thing she appreciated
in herself.

The painter drew me a picture
it was a landscape
two trees and grass
the trees had and amazing mixture of red and yellow and wine
and the grass was made up of tears and some goodbyes
the painter never came back
the painter never could
the painter lost herself
between a canvas
and some wounds.
I know that when you hold that blade
You're just drawing lines
Lines for words you've been trying to say
To sit on.

You ran out of paper
So you made do

I know that when you watch
Watch the food wash down the toilet
You wish you could stop
But food just doesn't taste good
It's like eating sand

No matter how much you try
To lift the spoon
Shove food into your mouth
It's just going to come all out

I know that when you try to get a grip
You just aren't yourself
You have no control
Your mind is just on a rampage by itself

All you can do is silently watch
Behind the windows of your eyes
Watch others eyes stare back
And wish you could just shut yours

And I know
That when people ask why
You don't like it
Because it's either
the reason is staring you in the face
Or you just really don't know why.

I know that sometimes
You lie hopeless in bed
Curled up and hoping you never wake up
Or maybe you can't wake up
Because you never slept

That agony is real
So tired yet unable to calm down
Unable to rest.

I know
Or maybe I don't
I keep thinking about
all the things I forgot.

Your phone number -
long deleted -
started with a 3.
Or was it a 6? Maybe 2.
The only thing I'm sure of
is it had seven digits
and made my heart race
when I saw it on my phone.

Your smell
and how it lingered
now escapes me.
It was unique and spicy.
Or was it sweet?
I keep thinking I've found it again
but end up second guessing myself.
If my eyes were closed
and you were standing
right in front of me,
I wouldn't even know.

Your smile
I can't quite picture.
I don't think you showed your teeth
unless you were really happy
or laughing.
But even in those cases,
I don't remember
what that looked like.
You probably had perfect teeth.

The dates
of all the events whose memories
used to stop my heart
are fading.
When I stop to think,
I can remember them,
but when those days pass
I'm always preoccupied
and forget to remember.

Your favorite color was black,
I'm sure.
I remember because
Your car was black.
Your hair was black.
The locked compartment of your heart
that I tried to open
for two long, painful years
was black.
Imagine meeting
Someone
Who has never met anyone
Before
Who has never seen the stars
Or had a conversation
Or walked through the park on a day like today
Who has never listened to music
Or eaten pumpkin pie
(Or anything for that matter)
Or loved
Or painted
Or played
Or laughed
Or sighed and said that it's getting late.
Who has never prayed
Or written
Or read.
With no tattoos
Or scars
(Inside or out)
Who is healthy
And surrounded by people committed to their
Well-being.
Someone without clothes
(Or any possessions)
Without a moat and a drawbridge.
An open book full of blank, white paper.
Imagine meeting
Someone
New.
Are you even real?
That night I saw all your *** appeal
witty, sarcastic with a magic smile
that would make me go for miles
just to see you for a while
we could do it couple style.
and this is all at first glance
already I got no chance
punch drunk for some romance
maybe me and you could slow dance.
so I approached for conversation
with no hesitation
because confidence in demonstration
equates to a better dilation.
Plus luck favours the bold
or that's what I am told
I'm only 24 years old
and my life ain't all gold.
But still I'm like whatever,
couldn't everyone do better?
Plus with this feeling the second I met her,
knew I'd try to get her.
So we talked all night even though she was on the clock
told her I needed her number so we could talk
smiled and told me that I really did walk the walk
I told her I open doors when I hear opportunity knock.
She took my phone, typed her number and her name
I went home smiling with her smile on the brain,
But for some reason I have never seen her again
I called and I messaged and its driving me insane.
and believe me, not in a desperate way
I know how to make this play
I sent a singular message and called once
I ain't ringing her line for days.
Now it's been three weeks and I keep meeting new faces
but I gotta say that none of them have your graces
they all seem too caught up with rat races
and they're all just looking for meaningless embraces.
So it's super unfortunate but hey, c'est la vie.
I'll take one from the beatles and just let it be
so now to scout out some new company
hmm let me see... who will it be?
For the record: six hours after writing this the person in question messaged me after almost three weeks of dead air.  What a world.
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