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Ella Cole Mar 2015
I always used to believe in signs.
In those songs that we all heard.
And the words they held.

In their hands I was caught.
Not wanting to leave their sad space.
And I still don't want to.

When will I go?
Ella Cole Mar 2015
Between my lungs and my heart,
There is a space that hurts.
It is like holding my breath and still walking,
On, and On.

Between my tears, and my laughter,
There is a part where I’m silent.
When you aren’t there, and I’m not there.
Neither of us start.

And speaking,
To speak is to be vulnerable.
To run into things that we don’t want to imagine.
But we do anyway because that’s our inherent nature.

Our dreams keep us alive,
But handicaps and flaws,
They are too overpowering.
For me at least.

I had thought that physical pain made me sane.
I was wrong.
My sanity is what I’m most afraid of,
And I still pursue it.

And stupidity,
I’m stupid for not seeing this.
I called it.
I jinxed us. And now I hurt.

Between my lungs and my heart,
There is a girl who struggles to stay above water,
Holding her breath,
And choking on words she wish she said.

And she’s sinking,
Deeper,
Deeper,
Faster,
And her sanity, pushed her past

H
E
R

B
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E
A

K
I

N

G


P

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N

T
pure recognition of my emotional state
Ella Cole Dec 2014
It was the first snow day.
You took my hand and held it.
You told me of my beauty. 
And your love for me.

You took my hand.
And you kissed my fingers.
And they were ice on your lips.
We walked through.

Although our sky was grey,
We had no need for blue.
For the cold brought us closer.
And you held me more.

There were then clocks.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
They sang with time.
An abundance of it too.

And the snow was still.
Still there.
With us.
Wishing.

We didn’t wish though.
Not for anything.
Because we had time.
Surrounding our beings.

But that was then….
This is now.
Weeks past.
Words lost.

I  wish for more time.
Like the clock shop.
It’s space full of time.
And snow.

You have left with the snow.
It doesn’t snow anymore.
Not around me anyway.

— The End —