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Hayley Cusick Feb 2015
this fire
once stoked by the wood
from my undying forest
seems to be dwindling
in the crushed eyes of forgotten tomorrows
and I once thought so clear
I was a ghost in the mirror
now my loley reflection stains
my vivid recollection
and I stare not through
but at whom I
never thought I would become
I promise I can be better
Hayley Cusick Jan 2015
maybe on your body
mostly on your heart
I used to believe in the hope on my arm
I guess I still do, wishing for a new perspective of the word
I look down and see me
not someone people want me to be

now the cross on my wrist
sits so elegantly between my heart and my mind
these are the tattoos on my body
the ones you can touch and feel and find
I might explain the meaning
and you may trivially understand my words
but never my thoughts, the truth behind my heart
I wish you could see those tattoos  
because although the ones on my body are beautiful

at least to me

the ones on my heart are beyond anything you have ever seen
most people never know the feeling
the feeling of finding yourself
seeing who you actually are written on your own skin
I don't see ink
I see me
the person everyone else refuses to see
It's not just ink.
Hayley Cusick Jan 2015
I find myself free falling
pulled by gravity
watching the ground slowly sneak up on me
and if I knew a way to slow my fall
maybe it would be your arms
that caught my all
but you seem disinterested
distracted by the sky
I'm just another spec of dust
something that's in abundace to find
But then again, maybe I'm not.
Hayley Cusick Jan 2015
I am a poet
and my words bleed my blood
they say what I feel
and breath through my lungs
Hayley Cusick Jan 2015
I'm so far from home
I can't even find it on my map
I've been circling the same block for so long
each tree has grown to hide me even further
but I keep walking in that same circle
hoping it turns into a straight line
Hayley Cusick Jan 2015
it's days likes these
where the rain soaks my bones
wilting the flowers I use to line my soul
and I seem too busy
to care for those roses
but if I'm not willing to tend my own garden
why do I think another poor soul will be up for the challenge?
Hayley Cusick Nov 2014
cold coffee warming my hands
the ghost of you staining my heart
the thought of us drifting apart
the ghost of you haunts my in my dreams
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