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 Apr 2015 Griselda De Anda
oni
today,
i wish
i was
dead.

i want
to roam
the
world
as a
shadow,
seeing
the pain
but not
feeling
it.
 Apr 2015 Griselda De Anda
Amanda
And his kisses on her skin felt like wisps of butterfly wings,
then to a slow inferno.
Hello you,  you & you!
I miss doing ceramics with my two chickadees. Ahaha, I feel like every single day, I learn something new. Whether it is about myself or my friends, or the kind of world we live in.
You get the good, you get the bad, the things you wish to hear and the ones you don't. Everything in between.
 Apr 2015 Griselda De Anda
AM
Peaceful sunrise entered the window
As morning poke his heavy eyes
I lay my right hand on his left cheek
But he moved it to his ear without a peek
Then he says under one's breath,
"It feels like I could close my eyes. Stop hearing the world's noises. And all the problems will disappear. Because I am here—With you"
When I asked you to fix me,
You told me I wasn't broken.
But, let this soak in.
I just wanted to know,
If i was still a pretty enough picture to be worth, agonizing over a puzzle.
Even when it's a struggle.
And you have to nuzzle each piece into place,
Kissing the pieces bent out of shape,
Searching for pieces gone missing,
But you can't make a raisin back into a grape.
Yes, I Remember your middle name
And who says we can't celebrate failure?
Don't be sad, we tried, we tried.
When you write your story in the sand it washes away with the tide.
It isn't our fault.
We may have cut ourselves open, But we didn't ask for the salt in our
wounds
Can I still say "we"?
I guess you're kind of done with me.
I don't blame you, Puzzles are frustrating.
they're a tease.
Please, tell me I haven't lost the most important piece.
Tell me I haven't lost
you.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
my words are going to hit you.
so hard,
you forget your first name.
the paintings etched on your skin
will now be our story
and i want your
cigarette-stained fingertips
to burn holes into
my skin -
set me on fire.
my words are going to stay with you
while you're not
holding your breath
on bridges,
tunnels,
elevators,
traintracks...
and while my face would be turning blue,
with lack of oxygen.
my words are
so precisely
and concisely
constructed into sentences,
that are never spoken,
never whispered,
uttered,
or murmured;
but they are written down
for you to read.
so please -
touch my face
tell me you love me
then *set me on fire.
literally an example of stream of consciousness
I can smell him on my sheets
      I can taste him in my dreams
             I can still feel every inch where he's touched me
I hear his laughter echoing in the walls
             I can still see him in all these pictures I saved for
           memories

But this bed is bare
My dream's a nightmare
       I can't hear
             His laughter
       He's not near
             Enough to touch
My eyes are blinded by tears
He's killed my senses,  
      I'm no longer aware

Everything around me,  slowly fading away
His face, his scent, his laughter,  his touch
Maybe I'll just pop a few pills and sleep away the day
At least he's in my nightmares, the pain of reality is too much
He's gone...  He's in her arms now... I'm dying and crying and it's all just too much..
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