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You are more than I will ever deserve

I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,
Or maybe it would scare you,
because every time I look at you,
No, every time I think of you,
My heart jumps, and my mind clouds,
Blood rushes to my face,
I can't breath and the world spins,
Like my brain has short circuited,
and I feel like my hair should stand on end,
and sparks should fly from my eyes.
Surely you have noticed the way I look at you,
How I can't draw my eyes away from you.
How suddenly the centre of my universe is you,
I am just a planet to your sun.

And when you look at me,
When you catch my eye, and smile,
I feel like I have been pumped full of helium,
I feel like I could blow away with the lightest breath of air,
Like I would shatter into a million pieces with just a touch.
Oh, and how I crave your touch!
Your hand on my arm, my head on your heart.
Your gravity is irresistible,
All I want is to be near you.

Is it wrong?
The way I feel?
What would you do if I told you?
I do not know, and I cannot take the risk,
For if I were to loose you,
I would become nothing.
Everything I am too afraid to tell you
It's okay
If you don't
Have the time.
I would do anything for you.
Here I am again
trying to keep from sinking
but I am the dead weight
recollection of heavy bones

I try to pull it
out of me the black rays
feeding inside me
caged and reeling

a wounded raven
I dream of somewhere
beyond my reach
then I let the core flutter
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qp0S850fx-E
how ignorant of you
to suggest that only
seven wonders
exist in this world;
for you yourself are a wonder.
you are a wondrous mystery
full of depth and light.
so dont you dare,
don't you dare limit the world
and don't you dare limit
your wonderful self
floating words
and touchable sounds
let them fly
let them be
and soon you will feel them
in your bones
in your soul
until one day you find
you are made of this
you are the vibrations
the melodies
and you may even discover
that you can float too
I'm supposed to be an artist.
I'm supposed to be a writer.
Everything that has happened to
me I have taken
and made it kiss my *******
***.
But this I can not make into
art.

I can not take this memory
and deface it with my hate
and pain.
I did this to myself.
This was a decision I made,
sat in the shower,
and cried for so many
hours thinking about.
This was not forced upon me.
But with her expected
delivery date arriving,
I want to make this some
beautiful piece I can
look back on.

Not cold hands and instruments
put inside my body
pushing and pulling.
I can not make this art.
Staring at the clock and
watching the seconds tick
by to distract myself from
the pain.

I can not count seconds
to forget her now.
I can not count hours
To forget the suction sound.
I just...
I can not.
Make this art.

The reality of my abortion
it too cold and hard
and real
to make this into metaphors,
into some abstract
piece about how life
was taken out of me.

I didn't cry that day.
I didn't cry that week.
But when out of habit I went
to rub my stomach
I flinched. Pluto was gone.

I could feel her sweetness
and strength. I could feel
that I was not ready for
such a strong love,
I was not ready to look
my child in the eyes
and know that I could not
take care of her.

I want to honor her memory
for the strength that she has
passed on to me.
I named her Pluto for she was
such a small planet to me.
A sweet companion to guide
me through the pain that I was
enduring.

I don't think I was supposed
to have her.
I like to think that her
purpose was to make me
stronger. To make me a better
person.

I haven't dropped out of high
school yet because I want a good
life for any child I decide
to care for. I haven't ended my
life yet because
then her's would be a waste.

She grew inside of me for 3 months.
Caused me some intense nausea
and cramps.
She was strong, and bowed down for
no one, stretching my body apart.

I cry for her often.
And I don't believe in much.
But I know in whatever after life
or reincarnation that I may have,
I will see her again.
I will hold her someday.

But for now, getting a tattoo
of my little planet
in the palm of my hand will
have to do.
She had a beautiful soul,
a beautiful burning will.

Maybe I can make this art.
Maybe I can make her smile
knowing that I will always love her.
This was very difficult to write about, but I hope you enjoy :)
-My Personality-
The important thing
about my personality
is that it's me.
It's cruel and
shifting
It's too nice at times.
But the important thing
about my personality
is that it's me.

-My words-
The important thing
about my words is that
they're strong.
They're loud and
quiet, sometimes
they're confusing and
twisted.
But the important thing
about my words is
that they're strong.

-My Journal-
The important thing
about my journal is
that it's patient.
It's empty and
scribbled all over,
some pages torn
off.
But the important
thing about my
journal is that
it's patient.
My teacher gave us a prompt for things that are important to us. And then asked us to steal another writer's form of writing. I like where I went with it.
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