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 Jul 2013 Amber Grey
Frankie T
how are you?
i am fine. i got wasted
last night. there is a boy here
in love with me. we are nice to each other
i suppose. how
are you? is it still hot
at home? do
you miss me?
i miss you.
i miss you.

last time i was here, we stayed
up all night together, talking
you looked like hell
and said you loved seeing
my face.
i do. miss it.*

i suppose i will come home
eventually
but i still don't know
if i will ever see you again.
 Jul 2013 Amber Grey
Frankie T
once upon a time
there was a beautiful duo
and when it was good it was perfect
when it was bad it was hell

there were bright candles and mirrors
laughter and cool drinks
and hot summer nights making love by the water

and then there were dark marks floating like **** under the skin
screams and silences
curling into sheets

The man next door cried for his wife
she treated him like less than nothing and still he called her,
every hour
to hear her drunken laughter shouting through the telephone
you're lying, you're lying, he cried
and still he called to hear her voice
to see that she was still there

the duo listened through the wall,
one curled like a kicked cat at the foot of the bed
the other calmly flicking through magazine
hearing themselves played out in bangs and shouts
the despair floating in the air like *****.
 Jul 2013 Amber Grey
choupinette
I had said it first
I love you

maybe he didn't hear me.
maybe he didn't want to.
he eventually answered,
it took a week... or was it two...

It was bitter with shame
I love you, but I can't

Something about my belief in life after life
I didn't want to have heard it
Keeping it in the dark where it would hurt silently.

Maybe if I keep saying it
I love you
Maybe it'll be true again.

He hurt me first
I should've told him.
I don't love you

He hurt me first. I didn't want to get hurt anymore.

you're a cold-hearted *****! Why would you ever do this to someone!

Sometimes it's better to be the villain of someone else's story than to never be the hero of your own.
 Jul 2013 Amber Grey
choupinette
When I was a kid I would pick at my scabs and re-open wounds on purpose. I just liked how it showed that I didn't fear getting hurt. My proof that I wouldn't let anything get the better of me.
Maybe it was all of the 'Xena: warrior princess' episodes I watched. I dont know.

I still check if theyre still there. I still brag about how I got them to everyone, even if it wasn't asked. Even the silliest ones. The one on my wrist from a scared antisocial cat, whom i gained the trust of in the end.

The one on my head which required three stitched, given to me by my brother when throwing a ping-pong racket at me. He felt so guilty that gave me his favorite game, and tried to pay for the hospital bill.

The ones on my knees from when I fell of my skateboard and broke my computer on my way to give a class presentation. I had recieved a perfect grade after having talked to a class who stared at my ****** and shaky knees.
They had all hurt, but each one has a lesson, and a dear memory. Never to be forgoten.

And why try?
Even the ones that you can't see will remind you. The broken bones and the torn muscles. They all leave a subtle mark of their existance.
caressing you
the nape of your neck
towards the dimples on your back
flirting with every finger
to a jazz rhythm
making every pore pert
dreaming about our love
waking you up most subtly
coaxing you back into the bed
back toward the place where we
have the best memories
STOP
that tickles
and to write this
only to the be coaxed back
come cuddle with me
i oblige
*that ******* tickles
 Jul 2013 Amber Grey
---
Unedited
 Jul 2013 Amber Grey
---
I do not write
To express my feelings.
I write
To find them out.
Because I can't keep up
With my mind
And I don't know
What I think about.
That is why I have no drafts
Because I want to know
My raw feelings
Unedited.
i opened my eyes
again
and there existed a black spot
between the north star
and the rolling clouds

i stared into it
deeply
and i followed myself in
to our bed upstairs
and the feathers roll over

i went deeper even
home
and i found me weeping
near the keys that make me
and we rested together again

i knelt yet again
flawless
and you grinned again
fatter than you ever have
and we held hands

i pulled back the curtains
******
and shone in the light
illuminating the dust on the shelf
and we read together

i pulled you through customs
dragged
and we skipped to the gate
shouting over an intercom
and we tugged each the other

we crossed the seas
oceans
and we got lost
wandering and without list
and through this we bonded

we unpacked our bags
furniture
and we certainly shopped
finding a place to call home
and we called a bungalow home

we died together
coughing
and we fixed kosher eggs
making way for the others spirit
and we slept a year through

in the ground
dont fall asleep outside. this is what will happen
i think of you daily but
the problem is
you are not real

you are real in the sense that
i and others can see you
but
you do not exist

"you" is something
you created so that
the person inside could
hide away from people
who promised them in
the middle of the night that
they did in fact
love
"you"

"i am not real" you said

now i realize

of course not
how could you be
1

Why did Blake say
'Sunflower weary of time'?
Every time I see them
they seem to say
Now! with a crash
of cymbals!
Very pleased
and positive
and absolutely delighting
in their own round brightness.

2

Sorry, Blake!
Now I see what you mean.
Storms and frost have battered
their bright delight
and though they are still upright
nothing could say dejection
more than their weary
disillusioned
hanging heads.
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