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Loneliness is an art form
5w
She
“Write about ***” I whisper to myself
“No. No, that’s disgusting” I respond with vigor
“Write about love.” I suggest in the condescending tone adults often take with me
But I do not want to write about love,
I have never been in love
I have never felt anything like love
I hate writing about love
I hate the pronouns
I always want to write about hers
About the smell of perfume on her dress
And the way her hair curls and twists like the plotline of an Oscar Wilde novel
I always want to write about she’s
And the way she never makes fun of my silence
And the way she laughs
And the way she cheats off of me in geometry,
Even though we both know my answers are always wrong
She’s like a triangle
A cute
But if I were a shape
I’d be obtuse
Because when  we walk to together in the hallway I always get the urge to grab her hand
But I never have
And  I want to tell her to take off her makeup because she’s just so perfect
And you know she cried last week and I didn't know what to say
I never know what to say around her
But she never minds, she can have a conversation with me and I never have to say anything
And some days it takes all my restraint
Not to write about her
And I want to write about how I love her
I want to write about the way I love her
But hatred always hits me in the gut
And pain in the face
And shame cripples my fingers
So that I can never write she
And when he comes out of my pen
I rip the pages of my failed poem out of my notebook
And cry
Because I can’t stand writing lies
23
It's four in the morning
And I can't sleep.
You're laying next to me,
Back turned,
Dreaming.

I have a taste in my mouth.
It's part you,
Part excitement,
Part me,
Part disappointment.

And it won't wash out.

I kind of want to cry,
But jump for joy
At the same time.
I guess that's growing up.

I guess that's living,
And that's learning,
And I'm not really sure of
Anything right now, except
I am sure I want your arms
To hold me tightly.

But you're dreaming.
Sunny afternoon

75 degrees

Breeze
     Flowing
          Blowing softly through the slightly cracked window

Trees
     Swaying
          Laying rhythmic undertones to lyrical chirping

Me
     Smiling
Snuggled so tightly
     Pressed against your skin
Entangled limbs
     Indistinguishable as to where you end and I begin

Our
     Hearts and Breaths
Synced
     Collaborating
Producing a soothing lullaby as we drift off to...
      Sleep

I miss afternoon naps

     With you

In

     The afterglow

                                   after...



© Tina Thompson
I still remember when you first aired
your series premiere. I quickly fell in love
and tuned in every night. I certainly had
no need to record the action,
the comedy, the drama.
Reruns were nostalgic memories
of the new episodes that I never missed.

You couldn’t find the right time slot for me
and we grew apart. It wasn’t the same.
You seldom aired until you stopped airing altogether.
How do you feel knowing that you are my cliffhanger
ending to a canceled show? I could shy away
from television altogether or find a new favorite show
and appreciate what you had to offer when you were around.

Maybe I’ll read a book instead.
I am walking away from the static
rain on the screen. I still remember
the series premiere when you first aired.
Tonight was the first time,
I think,
I have ever heard the hurt in your voice
with no music playing.
Or seen the regret etched in the lines
on your face in the dark.
It was odd, finding you so vulnerable.
Opening you up and dissecting the words inside.
I didn't know what to do with myself
and with your vulnerability.
and mostly your regret.
what do I do with all your regret?
It seemed like you finally realized
what you threw away.
That you threw away hope
and no one can live without hope.
But you tried to live without me
and in the process you destroyed me and
I had to try and find myself again.
That's why I put up walls,
you have to understand.
There are walls now.
I don't know how they got there,
one day I just built them up and they stayed.

I wanted to be there tonight,
but I was tired of being told that I didn't.
I thought about grazing your lips with mine
and touching a star with sun-kissed finger tips,
but those walls told me it was a bad idea.
that I would, again, inevitably, be hurt.
Though my heart still beats for you and
my soul still likes to laugh with you,
my mind is confused on how to react.
You must understand this fight between
body
and heart
and soul
and mind.
and also with the world.
because everyone's biased towards something.
and maybe I'm just biased towards you.
The cut's too deep I'll not survive
so I'll keep spewing til i die

This ****** water tastes like wine
and all the drunkards come to dine

Their plates sit full upon my spine
the sustenance my very mind 

A feast for those who seek to bind
the souls that they can somehow blind

And I'm the host, it's come my time
to pour the life out of my vines

Their fork an axe, it draws the line
suspends the truth they cannot find

I close my eyes to hide the crime
the one they want is not inside
the hardest part of letting go of someone you care about is knowing that their life will go on, without you.
knowing that all your memories together will be replaced with the memories they make with someone new. knowing that they will find someone who makes them just as happy, if not happier, as you made them.
knowing that no amount of taylor swift songs can make you feel better.
knowing that most days you wont even cross their mind, when before you were all they could think about.

i dont miss you that much anymore, i just dont know how to not to be in your life anymore.
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