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Eliza Jane Dec 2013
It's an overused platitude to say that everything reminds me of you
A banal cliché to be the girl who cries herself to sleep
But, when it happens, you can't fear the overused phrases
You have to learn to accept that you will spend some days watching a whole season of a sitcom he showed you one day
Some days reading through old messages
Some days crying
Some days healing
Not all days are dedicated to your hurting heart, not all days are meant to be for hurting
Most days are actually for sunshine and reading
For painting and writing
For prayer and for hope, because you are not your pain
I am not my pain, but...
Eliza Jane Nov 2013
Snap your fingers,
Tap your bag,
Grab your hair,
Scratch your skin.

Walk as fast as you can,
Don't run yet,
Don't look back
Don't fight so hard

Hope that he'll help,
Grab your hand,
Just to hold you down,
Keep you here

Watch the blood drip onto the keyboard,
The welts and bruises on your forearms
You were meant to look nice before you leave..
Leave this town and this home,
Leave these friends and these lovers
Eliza Jane Nov 2013
Dearest Max,
Handing out the words like christmas presents
Poor, yet rich in both presence and spirit

Oh Rudy,
Giving bread that you had once stolen
Confident, yet reserved under the Book Thief's gaze

My dear,
You're presenting me with dilemmas
Don't you know?
Reminding me of literature is not the wisest play
When my heart lives inside these pages
Eliza Jane Oct 2013
If I could, I would take all your worries as my own
It wouldn't be too large a task
Worry is my bedfellow, the cold sweat keeping me awake at night
So, a little more cannot make much difference
If I could, I would have you hand over your worries like armfuls of melting snow
They would fall out of your arms and melt along mine, becoming sweet, vaporous, spirits
Place these heaping piles of worry into a small place in my heart
Create an eternal snowman within me
Not out of wild obsession or ulterior incentives
But because I would never wish worry on anyone,
*Least of all you.
non-fiction... I couldn't sleep last night and a friend was worried about things, so I wrote this.
Eliza Jane Oct 2013
I try to be more objective and clear-headed than most..
Fear tries to grab me at each turn
The enemy lurking behind every dark corner,
Down every chilling hallway
Can you feel its breath down your neck?
Constantly whispering...
"You'll seem clingy"
"You're not yourself anymore"
It terrifies me,
It does its job
It keeps me silent and afraid
When all I want to do is be a friend.
Eliza Jane Oct 2013
If you're drunk on love
What happens when you sober up?
The morning after, the pounding headache and ridiculous nausea
What happens if you just keep drinking up all that love?
Does your 'love-liver' fail?

I don't understand this concept of being so incredibly intoxicated
If you can't think or see straight, should you really be pursuing this love?
Your beer goggles are interfering with your logic that screams out no
If you can't love them when you're sober...
Why love them when you're drunk
so confused...
Eliza Jane Oct 2013
it’s the night for an escape

for some book thievery,
some german sweat,
some silver eyes and hair like feathers

it’s the night to pretend that none of this happened, that no-one’s hurting or afraid, that i’m not equally filled with protective rage and ridiculously nauseating terror.

the could haves
should haves
would haves
they’re whispering evil lies inside my mind

oh yeah, it’s time to escape.
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