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I listen to Keaton Henson when my head is spinning
My head is constantly spinning
There are 124 moments in a day where I have to close my eyes
because all I can see are his hands
I hated his hands, five fingered noose
When I was eleven my goldfish died
I cried for seventeen days straight because I wanted nothing more
than to take my life back
just so he could have his
I used to keep my closet doors open to the idea of monsters
my feet off the edge of the bed as I slept
so when they reached out for my child toes
I could ask them to save me from the real monsters I saw every day
When I was 14 I recorded my final words on tape cassettes for my family
so I didn't have to breathe anymore
it was too much work
I was too much work

Now, I drink red wine to awake my soul
and I kiss the lips of the wind when I walk
so I don't have to see it as anything but a lover, a friend
Now, I miss the way his hands enveloped mine
and his body felt like beach rocks under my soft water tongue
and I needed his truths but I couldn't look at his bright suns anymore
I'm a lover of the night
and now, I sit up and write about him instead of sitting next to him
because I'm afraid of the music and I'm afraid of perfection
It doesn't seem right to have things handed to me so easily
in tightly wrapped packages with bows and ribbons string
so beautiful like a journal
Now, I leave my light on when I don't sleep
I don't sleep
He was the only part of me that made any sense
but I wasn't used to making sense
so I threw him to the lions
and prayed he'd never let me love him again
One day he'll know he's better off
A journey of impurity seems to be my affectation
My behavior that is meant to impress others, isn't an expectation
But for me I need to feel welcome...
Wrap me up in the sheets of complecion and pour water amongst my pours
So something about my body can appear clean and be adored

A bruised body and a bandaged heart splits me apart
like a little child living amongst the park
trying to make new friends
but hes different from the others...

He tries to mend the seems of his character;
but even when hes done his imperfections shine louder
and still when he grows up everything's the same;
he will be called coward, loser, and a bunch of other names

Nothing he does seems to be ordinary;
It's for the people without a character anyway
*Because if I were that boy I'd let my inspiration blossom through the day
And be the person that makes me who I am today
You have drained me.

I gave you your cup
As is required
Expected
Of everyone.

I poured you your wine
It wasn't the best.
Who pours his best wine
For a stranger anyway?

But it was wine
And it was good
And it sustained you.

And you came to visit
Whenever you needed to.
All I wanted
Was your gratitude
But it was never there.

Now the bottle
Is empty.
You are finished.
Done.

There will be no more wine for you.
You have drained your cup.

You have drained me.
Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.
 Sep 2013 Heather E Perry
halioth
Beauty beauty
Both good and bad

Here in the mirror
She stares and smiles

She sparkles with me
She keeps me alive

She throws her shadow
On my care

Let not their words
Penetrate and thrive

She sheds her poison
In my air

Beauty beauty
Till I die

Your place I visit
When I'm sad
I say hi to my high;
As I exhale the ghost from my lungs
I say bye to my mind;
Ill be back in a few hours it tries to imply
but these  little feelings within
makes me feel like its a sin
because the air I breathe is filled with this smoke
my lungs cant do much when all they do is choke

*but honestly, there's a purpose I hope
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