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Julia Martin Mar 2021
The busy streets outside
Are muted by the radio.
Fancy cafes are far from reach;
Fast food's the place we go.

We both belong to provinces
At this time the cars are parked at home.
If it were any other day
We'd be lying on our beds alone.

But we stole a little moment,
We took what we could get.
We've got twenty minutes at McDonald's
To make memories we can't forget.

My head draws me a future
And it's filled with misery.
The only outcome I predict
Is a friend too far from me.

I am irrationally jealous
Of the new people you'll face
Anxiety dictates
One of them take my place

And it used to bother me,
How much I trusted you.
I'd found a genuine friend
In a world filled with fools.

But I have learned to let go.
I know you cannot stay.
No matter what I want,
I cannot fight this fate.

But I can treasure these minutes,
They don't need to be intense.
Conversations with you
Will stay long in my head.

I won't tell you I love you,
That you're far more than a friend.
How unwise it would be
To start something that has to end.

Tomorrow I bid farewell
The hopes my heart had set on you.
The way I marvel at your simplest move,
You'll remain without a clue.

But I'll memorize this moment
And the smile in your face.
We've created a happy memory
At 9:28
For a friend who moved to the other side of the world.
Julia Martin Mar 2021
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.
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To my sister's flower painting
A canvas only half full
With the beautiful strokes and lines
What use are roses and daisies
When half the canvas is white.

To my brother's academic life
As he studied many nights
He wanted a college degree
But it required four years
And he could only give three.

To my Aunt's first novel
That sits with thirty-three chapters
She said there'd be forty-four
But she died before
She could write them all.

To all the unfinished things
To those who couldn't touch their dreams
To those who didn't get their happy endings
To you and me.
Bio
Julia Martin Jul 2019
Bio
slightly naughty
but actually nice
mean
and somehow kind
often foolish
sometimes wise
an angel
with a devil's smile
Julia Martin Sep 2018
He was a novel

I was the chapter

I begged

And begged

to be his happy ending.
Julia Martin Jul 2018
The chess champion
Fell in love with his pawn.
The master of games,
Couldn't leave her alone.

He spun her around,
While she had no clue.
She was simply a person
That he liked to use.

But somehow she slipped
Through all of his schemes.
Blew through his defenses,
He thought he could win.

Alas, the lowly pawn
Over his heart had reign.
So he reached out
And pulled her out of his games.

She was no longer used,
He altered her fate.
She became his queen,
That was it, checkmate.

Finally, she was out
And far from harm's way.
He loved her so much,
He taught her how to play.

She sat right by his side
And learned all his moves.
In her he would confide
How to never lose.

And for some time,
They battled other players.
They became a pair
Of little chess slayers.

But then the girl grew better
And walked across the board.
She became the enemy;
She became a chess lord.

And our chess champion
Knew not what to do.
He had taught her everything,
He wondered if she could lose.

"Silly boy." She spoke,
Laughter in her eyes.
"I was never just a pawn,
I was simply your demise."

"You think you can play?
Watch me yawn through this game.
I have sat by your side
For defeating you was my aim.

I thank you for saving me,
For teaching me how to play.
But I think  I'll enjoy this.
A chess champion I must slay."

So the chess champion was beat
And another took his throne.
Perhaps he should've left
That lowly pawn alone.
Julia Martin Jan 2020
The smell of smoke is strong and my dog's hiding behind the sofa. I'm barefoot in the veranda, ridiculously expensive wine in hand.

The sky is dark
but often lit by sparks.

Boom.

There's a flash of light.

Boom.

I remember how your hands grasped mine.
Boom.

Pretty fireworks.

Boom.

You looked only at me, told me I was prettier.

And just like that, every New Year's was us.
I still think about how it was back then.
How it was not quite movie romantic.
There was no background music.
If there were no fireworks, the explosive sounds could make it feel like a war zone. But we wouldn't have cared anyway. Because amidst all the noise and smoke, you kissed my lips and suddenly I didn't need movie romance or background music. Millions were spent on fireworks designed to stain the sky with colors but somehow I could look only at you.
Even now, I still search for you. I miss out on the the sky's ostentatious display and I know it's pathetic but just for a moment I want to remember what it felt like to be yours.
How your lips tasted like strawberry champagne.
How your skin felt when you linked our arms together.
How you pressed your lips against my forehead and we both closed our eyes.
After New Year's, when the dust has cleared and the sky is just the sky, I belong to myself again. I wash my wine glass and ignore the fact that I'm all alone. I cannot help but wonder if you're thinking of me too when the black sky was momentarily yellow or green or red.
Perhaps we're apart, but watching the moon.
But, until next New Years, we'll go our separate paths again.
A poem about starting the New Year without your soulmate
Julia Martin Mar 2021
Silence
Was my reply
When you told me you loved me.
Time stood still for us two
As I pondered on the thought
Of being deceitful
Or being true.
You on the revelation
That maybe--
Or perhaps
What I felt for you
Was temporary.

Not a word came out of our mouths
And my silence echoed through our heads
As finally you realized
Just what my silence meant.
Julia Martin Jul 2018
he was the one

he had the cosmics in his eyes
and magic in his touch
he smiled when he sighed
and his hands were a little rough
he was beautiful in a way
that it was a secret to those who knew him
and it was a privelege to say
that I know everything

he was the one
who had me running and hoping and praying to my phone
nervous and axious that he'd laugh at my stupid jokes

he was the one who saw me with no makeup on
and stayed up sleepy talkin' bout crazy things til' dawn

he was the one
who ripped me sore with betrayal of a different shade of lipstick on his stained white collar

he was the one who stitched me back with fake apologies
and since it wasn't quite genuine
I had splitted at the seams

he was the one
who made me understand
the heart of the silly, pathetic girls
I used to scoff at

he was the one
who taught me greed
that sometimes people want more than they need

he was the one
he was.
Julia Martin Jan 2020
.

.

.
When the music pounds,
And lights dance across the room
I'm at home
Far away from you

When the dance floor is filled
And your mind is a mess
I lie at my bed
And silently obsess

When the bottle meets your lips
Your mind works a little less
I wonder who it is
You're trying to forget.
My ex called me at 3 a.m., drunk.
Julia Martin May 2021
My lungs breathed in disdain
Whem you mentioned her name
And that's when I knew
I had to stay away from you
Julia Martin Jul 2019
Her pretty face
Should've stayed away
He was always mine.

You do not know
How far I'll go
For your love to decline.

This dance I've swayed,
This game I've played,
***** tricks I'll use.

You've been warned
Next time I'll harm
Be thankful you're just bruised.
This is reminiscent of a time I was younger and far less moral. A girl I despised and the guy I was in love with (which happened to be my best friend) were starting to like each other. So I became a devious *****. I ruined her reputation and acted like an angel to him. I have him now and although I'm in the wrong, I'm still possessive of him and extremely hostile and wary of her.
Julia Martin Jan 2020
"You're textbook." She said,
Brimming with logic and reason.
Full of knowledge and facts,
But quite devoid of emotion.

You're meant to enlighten,
Yet you're difficult to understand.
Written by intelligent people,
With doctrines prestigious and grand.

Your black and white pages
Intimidate inferior minds.
Their heads spin round and round,
They struggle to perceive your lines.

"But you're not full textbook." She added.
"I've seen emotion here and there.
And perhaps a little friendly love,
It's present, however scarce.

You feel rage, you feel love,
Caring, you had to start.
But then again, you're sometimes cold.
So I'll call you textbook--
with a heart."
A birthday poem I wrote for the most logical man I met.

— The End —