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My memory is failing me
I feel tired all the time
The ache in my stomach
Feels like I've swallowed dimes

I am terrified
Of whats next to come
My body feels old
Even though I'm young

And my body feels tired
Ancient and out of place
The blanks in my memory
Are leaving to much space

Did I mention
My memory
Is failing me?
In the beginning the world is like a dark room with only the light under the door to hold on to
but as your dreams grow your light begins to glow
only you decide how dark your world will be
 Feb 2013 Elizabeth Ann
Jill
We are all closets.

Some of us keep our doors closed
Some of us leave our light on
Some people store things in us
Some people hide in us

And some of us walk around
With little Narnias inside that
Other people yearn to escape to
But we're afraid to search for them
Because we don't want to find a monster
******..Another monster.
 Feb 2013 Elizabeth Ann
Zow
She might loved you
but I loved you more
than anything I've ever
loved in my whole life
she might been there
when you needed her
but I was there when you
didn't even need a thing
I loved everything about
you even your darkest
secrets, flaws, imperfections
secrets that you only shared
with me, flaws that were
nothing but perfection in
my eyes, imperfections that
made me fall in love with
you more and more
I loved you despite all the
pain you caused, the long
sleepless nights and every
single piece you scattered
of this shattered heart
(For Donald Hall)

Have you heard about the boy who walked by
The black water? I won't say much more.
Let's wait a few years. It wanted to be entered.
Sometimes a man walks by a pond, and a hand
Reaches out and pulls him in.

There was no
Intention, exactly. The pond was lonely, or needed
Calcium, bones would do. What happened then?

It was a little like the night wind, which is soft,
And moves slowly, sighing like an old woman
In her kitchen late at night, moving pans
About, lighting a fire, making some food for the cat.
 Feb 2013 Elizabeth Ann
Teodora
If I were a bit braver
I'd pretend I was jumping when actually falling
And go to the bathroom at night, strolling.

And in that nice diary I'm afraid to start writing
I'd use a pen even when crying.

I would pack no sweaters for a summer vacation
And in the winter only one...or three for any situation.

And instead of "I'm fine"
I'd answer: "I wish I'd get a sign"
That everything would be all right
And I would someday finally feel light.

I would use staplers instead of clips
And teach myself to do front and back flips.

I would take a step and never look back
And live my life off of a sack.

If I were a bit braver
I would go climb a tree
And actually do something after counting to three.
The rain falls steadily upon me.
In the living room, and through the wall.
The fog makes it difficult to see.

At one time there were three.
Now it’s so hard to stand tall as,
the rain falls steadily upon me.

Had to hike, took pictures of a tree.
Couldn’t sit and wait for your call.
The fog made it so difficult to see.

Days are long and it’s hard to be
or feel, anything but small while,
the rain falls steadily upon me.

Check the calendar monthly.
Seasons go on but seem to crawl.
The fog still makes it difficult to see.

Knowing that soon enough you’ll be free
of your honorable duties, helps me to accept it all.
As the rain begins to stop above me,
The fog clears now and it’s easy to see.
 Feb 2013 Elizabeth Ann
Caroline
they like to say that "men" do not cry
so what makes a man?
is it the boom of his voice?
is it strut in his step?
the depth of his wallet?
or the bulk of his biceps?
or is it none of these things
perhaps it's the solitary tear
that rolls down a lonely cheek
and is quickly and silently wiped away
before anyone has the chance to question
masculinity
I'm loosing my creativity
I'm loosing my will to write
So I'm not giving damns anymore
I'm being myself tonight
"Why can't I touch the sun?"
Asked the girl one day
"We have gone to the moon and mars
Have other planets lead us astray?"

"Well you see little girl
The sun is too hot for us to handle
If we go near it we burn
Like if you touch a candle"

She frowned and looked down
Wondering how this could be
"How could something hurt you
If it holds so much beauty?"

"Well it's like a shark you see
Wonderful creatures who rule the deep
But if you get too close
Snap! Your arms gone and you weep"

"Roses are beautiful right?"
"Yes a lovely plant that smells so sweet"
"But they have thorns and we pick them"
"We cut them off we sorta cheat"

"Then why can't we cheat our way to the sun?
We cheat on everything else in life
Why not now why not then
We dig our way through with a knife"

I stopped and stared at the ground
Realizing I was going no where
Talking to this odd girl
With the jet black hair

"You're right 
We should trick the sun
Make him let us in
Be the number one

But you see touching the sun
Is like a far away dream
We wish is was real
It's not as simple as is seems

We can never touch that dream
No matter how much we pray
So you see little girl
It is impossible to touch a golden ray"

This girl with the jet black hair
Walked away off the play ground
I never saw her again
She was never able to be found

Flyers were hung everywhere
Saying "have you seen this girl"
The news reported her story
About this girl who was pearl

Six months later
In the river she was discovered
Her body found
Her soul not recovered

So the little girl
With the jet black hair
Is touching the golden rays
Way up there

— The End —