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The one Oct 2017
Upon the first step, my rain soaked loafers dirtied the pristine carpet of the cafe. The fresh aroma of bread coming out the oven filled my nostrils. A blanket of warmt engulfed me. I slowly peeled my jacket off my shoulders as the heat crawled under and began drying my back. The tears I once cried no longer stained my now smiling face. I stepped to the side as a man balancing a tray on his left hand swayed by me in unison with the blues playing softly on the radio. I noticed the elastic hum of the people around me. Pulling to eternity of a line with no interruption. Clearing my throat, I stepped forward and joined the peaceful buzz. Humming softly to the childhood favorite of mine. I took a window seat and watched the pitter patter of slow drops upon the pavement. With my coffee in front of me, I no longer felt the pin ****** of water. A child sat soaked outside eying the cookies sat on the plate beside my cup of brown. I smiled and waved the child in. I knew that, shortly I’d be sharing my heaven with a friend that was too young to enter through these doors
Heavenly
The one Sep 2017
Getting over you isn't a quick hail storm.

It's not a piece of ice falling rapidly.

An immediate deflation of emotion as though an ice cube pelting upon hot cement.

Melting as soon as the ground and frozen water meet.

Getting over you is a cool precipitation of slowly falling snow.

A glistening piece of artwork landing upon the endless white.

A cold, menacing blanket of hatred and sting.

Anytime revisited, a frostbite against the skin.

Come spring, you reopen the door and the white has disappeared.

Instead, hues of pink and blue dot the land.

The white, no longer missed.

You were my other half to my beating soul.

Getting over you will never happen.

However, my strength has grown thanks to you. I will never forget you. I will never forget the endless cold that stung my eyes. On this day, I say thank you. Thank you for being worthy of the winter and not being just a passing hailstorm. Thank you for teaching me that flowers within me are beauty even though their thorns may bite. Thank you for making me getting over you.
I'm not ever going to get over you
The one Sep 2017
I could write about returning to the country of my birth, I could write about a place. I could write about the chilly air, i could write about the tiny house. I could...


...instead, write about returning home. 

My home doesn't consist of rooms, no floor, no beds. No, my home had two blinking hazel eyes. My home had the purest heart. My home cannot be returned to. Dad, my home, please return to me. 

"The world is not a wish granting factory" -TFIOS

If I could return home, father would welcome me in with his warm embrace. his glinting eyes would smile.

I sit here crying, wishing, hoping that one day I, like the rest of you, could return home. 

They say in heaven, one blink to them is our lifetime. Dear father, please, blink.
Blink, blink
The one Sep 2017
Hay
Hay,
its the first thing I touched in this world. Perhaps I was a needle in a haystack. If you look closely you'll never find, only by mistake you'll locate. 

A mistake,
A mistake, 
A mistake, 

When I first said hey, life came tumbling down. 

Your mother is to love you and care for you. 

Not a mother of a mistake

She uses bats to crack your skull, 
She uses knives instead of hugs. 

Mistakes have no choice but to say "HAY" to everyone they meet. 

Hay, I'm a mistake, please be my friend. I cant do this another day.
Mistakes
The one Sep 2017
tears slip through the lashed covered eye

each hold deep meaning
every drop that slides down holds an eternity of pain

an orb of stories

bursting at the plump curve of the path on the cheek

covering beautiful skin with a layer of wet sticky hurt

the rest come cascading down

the silent scream of agony is drawn

for upon the skin so raw

is the shedding of each story and it's burst of blood through veins of the heart

it's the desperate cry and repulse of each fiber within
Even though I rarely cry due to the feeling inside:(
The one Sep 2017
You've handed me a loaded gun
You told me to run

You told me to never speak
Of the monster freaks

You told me everything was going to be all right
That you were going to hold on to me so tight

But listen here
The monsters you fear

Aren't so far away
In fact I say

Let me show you
Who they're really attached to

Inside of me
They are begging to let them free

And so you scream
And I end this frightening dream

One shot
Two shot
Three
Let me show you what they've done to me

Demons do not die
So I sit here trying not to cry

You've handed me a loaded gun
And now it's your turn to run

One shot
Two shot
Three
Let me show you what you've done to me

Instead of hurting you
I pull the trigger
One shot
two
The demons bled
Now I am finally dead
Well
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