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Emily Reardon Dec 2012
Calendars don't lie
And so much time really
Has passed since that day
Three months in three years ago
When those three words
First left your lips aimed for mine.
Clocks don't laugh and say,
"Just kidding! It's really Four
Not Five." Though sometimes
I wish they would,
So I could laugh along
And think Oh good-
I have more time.

Out of my window in the
Fall the leaves change
Because they have to
And in Summers the
Flowers bloom because they must.
So the time it passes,
The leaves change and
The flowers bloom
As I remember the
Good bye with you.
Emily Reardon Dec 2012
Shadows dance before
my eyes as sleep
eludes my tired brain.

Shadows of dreams
from the day transforming
into nighttime fantasies.

There's a moment when
I think I see your face...
But then the
Shadows engulf me-

And I drift away.
Emily Reardon Dec 2012
I wonder what would happen
if they opened their
Eyes, so tightly closed
shut to the
World that we see-
to the colors and waves
Of beauty in the
corn that rises without
Fail each year when the warmth
comes back home.
Would it make any difference?
Could they even see it right?
Emily Reardon Dec 2012
Simon says it's a sign.
So I ran,
ran fast and far
with the idea that
each occurence and encounter,
every moment-
even those dwarfed by
the giant of our memory-
will one day add up.

And Simon says he knows-
knows why and when and
what and how.
So I believe him
and in me grows a
soul that knows that one day
it will know.

Simon says,
just as he always
has and will-
so with a turned ear
and wide eyes,
I listen.
Emily Reardon Dec 2012
it begins again
the feeling so strong
it burned holes in your heart
and sliced scars in your skin
beaten and battered
by your own brain
you are no stranger
spiraling like spiders
it begins again
Emily Reardon Dec 2012
For a someone like you
to meet a someone like me,
the stars must have crossed.
Mustn't they have?

A someone so jaded,
so scarred
to meet a someone
so kind and so you.

The sum of my stars,
the lucky ones,
must mirror infinity
radiating beauty...
garnering all attention.
Emily Reardon Dec 2012
I've started to feel like
these poems that I write
are becoming the footnotes
to my life.
I mean, think about it.
Every event, every emotion:
See bottom of page.
Because that's where the
truth is, where it always lies,
at the bottom,
forever at the bottom.
You have to dig until
your fingers are bleeding,
until your nails are broken.
But, I swear it'll be worth it.
Because I know that
these words that pour from
my brain through my arm
to this pen on this page
matter - I don't think
there's anything I've
been more sure of.
And so I'll dig,
until my fingers bleed
and my nails break
because this is it.
This is my one chance
to tell you the truth,
to tell me the truth
and I'm going to take it.
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