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  Jul 2014 Haruka
Tom Leveille
so i get this idea sometimes
that you enjoy being coy
when it comes to me
to conjure momentary spectacle
& make me wonder
if you paint catharsis
on the doors of a home
you've never lived in
as a memory of our first night together
because i do, i remember you
beaming white on blue
speaking softer than any storm
i ever knew, i often think that maybe
you live that night in your mind
when your pillow is cold
& you can't sleep, it makes me wonder
if you do as i do, and rewrite three years fictionally beginning with a kiss somewhere
maybe a balcony or a quiet car
on the sand or in a sunlit grove close to your home but always a familiar scar on the maps we know we know by heart
i wonder if sometimes
the idea of me loving you is too real
and if it teems under your tongue
to stay observant but distantly intrigued
if by this distance you think it safe
to get a dog and pass time
on the couch with a journal & some wine
what i really wanna know is if your fingernails ever wish to have my skin under them
or if they would boast
about winning a war with my headboard
i wonder if you can imagine me
meeting your parents in your apartment & shaking your fathers hand
as a first of many calloused palm readings
and if you know that i trembled before them
how insignificant i had felt
to not know their daughter
in the way i had envisioned
how i picture such poignant moments
so tangibly sharp that sometimes
i replace  my memories with little stories
i tell myself that i can't count on two hands
the number of times i've seen you
& that i don't feel like a crater
when i recollect our collisions
i want to know if you still find madness
in the words that have always been about you
i wanna know if your imagination of me
looks more like an anniversary or an obituary
Haruka Jul 2014
I went to a wedding last Saturday,
and I drank cheap tequila at the open bar
until I couldn't quite remember my name.
The bride's family called me a mess,
and I laughed because you said the exact same thing
when you walked out the door of my apartment for the last time.

From what I remember,
the ceremony was beautifully
arranged with accents of gold and ivory
and I cried as the vows were read,
not because I thought that they were especially poetic,
but because somewhere at the bottom of my purse,
I have a crumpled restaurant napkin
with the vows I wrote for you while we were tipsy on date night.

You see,
I look for parts of you in everything,
and I think that's my biggest problem.
I am destroying myself in an attempt to hold onto you.
Maybe if I become less of a mess,
you'll come back to me.
But for now,
I'll continue to get drunk at open bars
in an attempt to forget about the girl
that had her heart broken by her forever.
I have never been the best at letting go
Haruka Jul 2014
You were everything I asked for
but never really wanted.
  Jul 2014 Haruka
circus clown
when i feel i'm lost,
i look for you
instead of
myself.

maybe that's my problem.
  Jul 2014 Haruka
Liam
a sincere wish that, as each morning breaks, we mend
...a ten word bedtime story...
Haruka Jul 2014
And in the silence between the songs in my head
and the words that I left unsaid,
I am unsure about whether I'm sad about the person I once was,
or the person I have yet to become.

I was a vagabond,
in desperate need of stable standing
and you were the sun,
brilliantly destructive,
but essential.

Within my fevered limbs,
and trembling hands,
you will find my universe.
The universe I built out of
secondhand smoke,
messy poetry written to sad songs,
and you.

Somedays, I wonder if my world stopped revolving
in the absence of you, my dear.
Because in my need to save my pride and
to hold onto the little dignity I had left,
I left you slip through my fingers.

You shined with a brilliance unknown to me.
And just like the moon pulls her glow from the sun,
I pulled my light from you,
so I guess it's meant to be that we move on
and revolve
in the absence of one another.
Meet me under the next eclipse.

You were my sun.
*You will always be my sun.
questioning my mental stability
Haruka Jul 2014
somewhere between secondhand smoke
and watered down whiskey,
you will find me.

you'll find the girl that exists in between
what was said but not meant,
and what was meant but not said.

they told me love was a losing battle
but i still poured every ounce of my being into you.
now i'm left with scattered fragments of the person i once was.

love is a losing battle,
and my weapon of choice will always be the double-edged sword.
because i would always rather watch myself bleed rather than
have you suffer.
so this is me,
bleeding out
emotions i no longer have the capacity to feel.

i hope it's brighter where you are.
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