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one day i will hold your hand
and know i will never have to
worry about the shaking of my own
i will climb into your car
and crawl into your lap
you will call me baby
and i will know i have made it home
we will listen to sad songs
and dance to lo-fi in our apartment
the dogs will howl
and we will pick them up
the music will change
and suddenly the light will break
it will shine on your smile and your eyes
will melt through me like lava
i will dance and pray to god
for an endless drought
i look
at you
and i (look) would rather
look at you (at)
than look at (you)
anyone else
because no one else
is better to look at (you)
than you (i look at)
i want to (look at you)
memorize the way
your colors refract
so nicely into my retinas
(i) want (you)
to (look) at me
my photo receptors
carry nothing
but (you)r face
into my brain
all (i) know
is the way (you)r
eyes light up
when you stare up at the sky
the stars
reflect in (you)r black
holes; pupils
windows to (you)r
(you) are
the only thing
(i want to look at)
you are
everything (you)
what if death is a fast-paced movie reel
a collection of pictures of all the people
you've had the chances to love and kiss
but didn't

what if death is being in close proximity to the person you love
close enough to see them
but not enough to hear them, to speak to them
to touch them

what if death is constantly experiencing firsthand
every family member's desperate breakdown
every instance of pure, unbridled instance of misery
caused by the news of your passing

what if death is sitting in your car with the first person you ever loved
and having them tell you that there was someone else
and that no, the baby was not yours (i'm sorry)
and you just keep feeling the tears roll down your cheeks
but no matter how many times you wipe it away,
or press your hand against your chest to prevent your beating heart
from exploding through your rib cage

what if
death is just
constant, relentless ******* pain.
  Jan 2015 GOLDEN GOD
tight silk ******* with the lilac bra to match,
cream coloured knee high socks.
a collection of classic rock on vinyl and a compliments jar covered in news articles.

too many celebrity perfumes, but a versace collection that makes her think of the beach;
peach smelling deoderant.

chapter books on the floor accompanied by hair ribbons of baby blue and cotton candy pink,
****** by Vladimir Nabokov laying near the juvinile pale legs of beautiful sixteen,
as she paints each toe nail red, pink, white.

almost naked body, remember her tight, fresh lace set
hair perfectly auburn, lips perfectly light coral
mouth slightly open
Led Zepplin playing.
hairspray and rose powder,
unlit vanilla candles and twilight scented creams
she smells faintly of Modern by Banana Repulic and her daddy's cigarettes.

silently waving, a flag of patriotism
the beautiful, elegant sixteen.

-part 1

you stole my coke
and replaced it with
the love that poured
out of your ecstasy
tablets the ones
you sold to that kid
who died at that
rave the other night
from "happiness" he
said the bright lights
they ruined his eyes
he couldn't see

he said he was happiest then;

and you danced with me
all night long
i had forgotten
what movement felt like
your body moved
so nicely
on top of mine
i was shaking for three
days after still, once
the drug wore off

you called it withdrawal
i called it love

drugs have no mercy
they keep you craving
for more, love
love it does that too
the only difference
between the two is,
drugs are easier to get
highs are harder to fake

it has taken me a while
to realize that.
it's six am on tuesday. it's winter, and it is cold. frost has built up on your window, so you can't see outside as you sit, alone, at your table, drinking coffee in your one bedroom apartment. the whirring hum of your radiator is the only noise that keeps you company. it is so cold and you can't help but wonder how your life would have been different (would you be happier?) if you had moved to florida with that guy you thought you loved way back when. but that was ages ago. there was no point thinking about that now. you shiver. it is really cold. you wonder how your heart keeps pumping warm blood when your insides have long since turned to ice. you drink another cup of coffee, trying to burn the hatred inside of you - maybe the heat will help you (it doesn't). you hear a kid crying outside. your heart does not skip a beat. you stare lazily through the frosted windows and wonder why anything bothers growing when it all ends up dying. and you wonder the same about humans. the earth is just an incessant reminder of your mortality; death is everywhere, wether you're a rose or a **** you will die, so in the end it doesn't really matter how becoming you were. you drink what is left of your coffee. with a quiet sigh, you get up and turn to face the window. nothing stares back at you. the wind doesn't howl. no one calls your name. you wonder how you keep on living. maybe today is the day you find out.
i will always love you even
if it gets hard and everything feels hopeless. sometimes
love is enough and sometimes
it is enough to save us.
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