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Hanna Jordan Sep 2017
The truth is,
my heart still flutters with
just the sight of you.
The truth is,
every time the words "I love you"
threaten to escape my lips
the lump in my throat grows to
the size of a softball that I can't swallow.
The truth is,
I get a tingly feeling throughout my
whole body every time you surprise me
with the littlest things that I love dearly.
The truth is,
watching your chest rise and fall
with every breath you take
as your legs are intertwined
with mine makes everything worth it.
The truth is,
the sound of your raspy morning voice
whispering "good morning" to me
still gives me chills.
The truth is,
I guess I'm sort of in love with you
but since I could never say any of this
out loud,
this poem is for *you.
Hanna Jordan Sep 2017
The ink absorbs into the paper as my
thoughts become words,
my words become art,
my art becomes a story
and my story is no ordinary story.
No, it's much more than that. It's me.
So, read between the lines.

- H.H.
Hanna Jordan Sep 2017
Your love is like a drug,
except I crave you so much more.
When your lips touch mine it makes me
feel like I'm floating on cloud nine,
unable to come down from
the sensational high.
When your laughter floods my ears, I can't get enough. I truly want more.
When I feel your fingertips softly graze my skin and your sweet scent dances
through my nose,
I'm suddenly wide awake craving you more than any other drug
on this planet.
It's amazing really, this thing you call love. It's more addicting than anything.
Maybe, that's why we can't help but turn to alcohol and drugs when we're heartbroken.
Hanna Jordan Sep 2017
I stood there,
getting lost in thought
as usual.  
The familiar sounds of
children's laughter mixed
with random conversation outside
dances through my ears,
I barely notice.
I gaze deeper into the abyss
of absolutely nothing
as my thoughts slowly
consume me one by one.
Each one completely different
than the last.  
"You okay over there?"
Sigh, back to reality...

- H.H.
Hanna Jordan Sep 2017
I find myself sitting on his porch
with a pipe in one hand and
cigarette in the other.
I stare into the night sky as the
blanket I have wrapped around me
soaks with the teardrops that have been
traveling down my cheek for the last 5 minutes.
What's there to say? I ask myself as the silence becomes almost deafening.
The crickets are chirping so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts.
Everything is numb.
He doesn't really care about you, I think to myself. He doesn't want you anymore.
The words rumble through my head like a terrible thunderstorm.
No, he's never actually said those words to me aloud. But, you know what they say, actions speak louder than words. And that my friend, is why I'm smoking myself into oblivion on his porch at 12:25 in the morning while he sits inside too consumed in his own mind to even fathom how I'm truly feeling in this very moment.
Hanna Jordan Aug 2017
I want to drink away
the memory of you
but the alcohol running
down my throat doesn't
burn nearly as much
as the pain of my
the day I decided
to walk away

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