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Eyes do speak.
It's funny how they perceive the things around.
The broken conversations heard by fully complexed ears.
I believed that I'd be ok.
The conclusions that eyes draw.
Never making sense of the words heard.
I believed it to be my biggest mistake.
Falling for the beautiful images seen.
Following sight, my first love.
Pain is often beautiful, layered one color after another.
The stories that unfold given enough time.
The initial cause and effect, forgetting the love immortalized before anything
was ever heard.
The intimacy that eyes will only understand/
Speak to me and I'll fully understand.
She'd never been in love.
I gazed intensely
Still I pursued
8
Your heartbeat echoes within me.

Not a day goes by that I don't think of you.
Counting the moments life would be better with you.

The day that I lost you has become more than a memory. It has become a room in my mind that I don't always mind being trapped in.

Your heartbeat echoes within me.

Some days are easier than others, some days are just a blur. Some days are unavoidable, but everyday, you're not there.

8 years of heartache, 8 years of strain.
You could have grown with me, if only you could have stayed. But maybe I'm being selfish, perhaps your absence isn't in vain.
Because at 16, I didn't know you- although now, nothing has changed.

Your heartbeat echoes within me.

I hear it everyday, it resonates around me with each breathe I take.

I wonder if you hear me, and listen when I pray. I wonder if you hear him, he misses you more with every passing day.

Your heartbeat echoes within us.
Your heartbeat echoes within me.

What I would give to go back..

Beat again inside of this walking corpse,
Breathe life into me again.

Your heartbeat echoes within me.
Happy 8th Birthday,
Antonio Santiago Ruiz.
I quickly pulled over on a dusty berm
like there was a local fruit stand there,
or someone selling tacos out of the back of their truck.

It was a Lamar, Colorado sunset.
Atomic Tangerine to Tea Rose to Vermilion.
Colors that spiked the emptiness in my soul.
Its voices praising the joining of Earth and Sky.
The ghosts of 10,000,000 Mother Earth Souls chanting in the evening wind.
Ancient drum circles in my head,
as the, even more ancient, Father Sun sets.

What were they trying to tell me, these chants?
It is as if they spoke of loneliness that had yet to come.
Inevitable loneliness that would engulf my every sense,
rearrange my life.
But even if I had the ears to hear their prophecy,
I couldn't change the events Mother Earth and Father Sun
had already set into motion.

I wept as the Sun melted out of sight,  

Not many Tennessee sunsets later
she left, and was out of my life,
never to return.
Harrogate, TN  2013
Keep the city lights close but far
So I can find comfort in Babylon’s charm
Sometimes the sun just isn’t enough
So rock me gently in your strong arms
But you quiver as I shiver
You slither as I wither
I want to die laughing
With cup overflowing
I need letters and syllables
For this flower to grow
But you shiver as I quiver
You wither as I slither
There’s rain and there’s saliva
There’s moonlight and there’s blood
There’s smoke and there’s bad lungs
There’s boots and there’s mud
And you quiver as I shiver
And you slither as I wither
I feel like I am trapped
Stuck like bubblegum under a tire
moving forward but leaving sticky behind
strings of pink grow like elastic
until it snaps
My juxtaposition to your heart...
Just short of right and  just left of leaving...
This fascination...distant adoration...
Trailing off into the distance...despite my own persistence...going...going...gone...
You see...Yours was a velvet touch... smooth against the skin of my soul...
My lips raw from your sandpaper kiss...once riveting...
Now...  remorseful hue... morose shade of blue...defunct me and you...
My own sweet type of primal bliss...you...audaciously exist...within me...
As I the ribbon...the strand...
NO...the last straw...
Am wrapped around your finger...linger...
flail...fight...then make tight...our binding...
Intertwining...
Bound by our brittle bias...
And you... pious... feel the need to mediate...to delegate...
NO...dominate...
Our love...
You... an anomaly...of the not right variety...
Build...gather...house the mire ...selfishly... misty moments... memories
My pain protruding...while eluding...my acute identity...
Pregnant with grief...disbelief...I strain...
Laboriously to free you...
Giving birth to the rain...
of emotions...
And OUR storm rages on...
A weeping...seeping semblance of love...
Circling the drain of our destruction...
© Nancy McGinnis - Roberts 2013
Tiny ants scurry
Busy with nothing to do
With the way they fuss and worry
They must be people too

Once in a while they meet
But they always seem to part
Like people on the street
Who love with broken hearts

So full of self-importance
With empires made of sand
Do they not see the arrogance
With which they destroy and demand?

Remember when you see an ant
Crushed upon the floor
That you are not so different
That you are nothing more
Earth-shine in your loved one's eyes
Is all you have for memories;
Moonlight died beneath their lids,
When death did his deliveries.

And now the world's a colder place,
Though sun still shines above it,
And moon comes too, and looks upon
The graves, were made with loving.

And though the years will pass the same;
Though weeds and grass obscure it,
Their names on trembling lips will live-
As long as we endure it.
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