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 Jan 2016 Molly Hughes
my favourite colour are your eyes.
blue, with just the right amount of green flecks in them that light up so beautifully when you smile.
how they would trace the shape of my lips and how mine would trace yours.

my favourite shape are your hands.
i could never quite get over the mystery of how perfectly they fit mine,
fingers interlocked.
the roughness of your palm as opposed to the warmth of your skin.

my favourite song are your lips
mouthing the words, "i love you".
how it felt like music dancing in my ears though not a single syllable was said.
how it started up the frantic drumming of my heart, as though trying to match its beat to the rhythm of your lips.

you used to ask me why
i always spelt favourite with a 'u'.
i think i didn't know it then, but i realise now
that these things wouldn't
be my favourite if there was u.
 Jan 2016 Molly Hughes
it's 7:24pm and i catch a glimpse of the first star.
involuntarily, i close my eyes.
i know what i'm going to wish for.

it's 11:11 at night and my alarm goes off.
a reminder i set for myself so that i can
once again
dedicate my 11:11 wishes to you.

it's 2am and i still haven't caught a wink of sleep.
i missed the "are you up?" text
two years ago
and i haven't gone to bed before 2am since.
this is how it goes down every night.

you taught me the importance of numbers
but you're too abstract a concept for me to comprehend.
it's always been you.
 Jan 2016 Molly Hughes
missing you was
like living your dream
come true
then finding out
that was all
it ever was -
just a dream.

missing you was
like making two cups of coffee
in the morning
before reality punches you
in the stomach
or worse yet -
in the chest.

missing you was
sleeping on the left side of the bed
afraid to touch the right side
leaving it unmade,
the way it was -
the day you left.

missing you was
above all, i think
just a game of waiting
for you
to return.
I'm tired of love poems
The insomnia that comes
When things don't work out
I believe that everything happens for a reason
But I'm tired of it

I'm tired of always being tested
Of being made to feel that I'm not good enough
I'm tired of caring
And I'm tired of feeling
I'm tired of being tired

I know that happiness is within reach
I've touched it, if not briefly
So I know what it's like
When it's gone

It's never as simple as cheering up
Or feeling better
It takes time
Sometimes a lot of time
Just to be reminded that things aren't so bad

I'm tired of wearing a smile
That is untrue
 Jan 2016 Molly Hughes
Caroline E
"You're very quiet," he says.
"You don't speak much, do you?" He says.

Darling, I've got a lot too say;
I'm just afraid of making a mistake.
I don't speak; I don't want the wrong things coming out of my mouth whenever I'm with you.
we both know
we won't last.

i regret so much telling you i loved you too.
Here we are, tears streaming down our faces
as if we've already broken up

i can't look at you
but you tilt my chin up.
you tell me to forget all that we've said
but i know you won't.

we're not meant to be.
your life and mine

never should have intertwined in the first place
i never should have fallen in love with you.
 Jan 2016 Molly Hughes
Yuppy Cups
My case is cracked
You've ruined me
You are the only one
With whom I want to be

Our song was short
Our words were poetry
I don't want to dance alone
Who will dance with me?

Our story isn't done
The fullstop isn't writ
Till our hair's grey and long
I am sure of it

There's to much to explore
Too much to be seen
And even if we're far
Will you still dance with me?

Our files are downloaded
There's nothing to unpack
We've come this far my dear
No way we can go back

So many things entwined
Such complexities
I'll keep it simple darling
Will you still dance with me?

Will you still dance with me?
Will you still dance with me?
 Jan 2016 Molly Hughes
i ask questions i already know the answers to
because there are lessons i wish i learned
for the first time from someone like you

i have a fever and i'm anxious for no reason,
is there a place where boys go to cry
and girls go to get even?

life like a sinking ship,
there's a captain but he's a liar

i'm the one who swallowed the flood,
and caused the electrical fire.
veins crossing veins,
igniting our bed.

*******, the things i'd do
just to get you out of my head

pretty blue eyes,
you open them
6 AM on a sunday
and a part of me dies

for you i'll stay safe
and warm
for you i'll get down
on my knees,
& arch my back
in perfect form

your tongue is
your arms are
i can feel the places
where your
scars are
i can smell the
opened wounds
that are fresh
and new
i am listening,
i am listening,
tell me what to do

i am here
i am here
i am here
for you
 Jan 2016 Molly Hughes
there were soap suds on the living room floor the day i got the call
it's such an insignificant detail, but i can't get it out of my head
some nights i dream of clouds
that slowly morph into soap suds
and a blue sky
that slowly morphs into hardwood
and i am melting into sheets,
melting wide awake

i was dripping wet all over the couch
in a pink bath robe
sipping whiskey from a mason jar
that you left on my bedroom floor

i heard his voice break
when he said your name the second time
and i tried to pretend
my heart wasn't breaking to the tone of his decline

i broke a nail fastening my seat belt
the following day,
and cried so hard
i had to pull over

it's the little things in grief
that hit the hardest

you are faking
just fine
until you're not
and then one day
you look into a mirror
that you are passing by,
and you are struck by
the tragedy in your eyes
and you pray you're the only one
who can see it
but you know you're not

dark red circles
under tired brown
and white hope,
you are veins
you are ribs
and smeared
you are
pink lips
pale skin
and you are
in a city
full of

and that makes you angry-
angry is a new feeling
so it knocks the air
from your lungs
as you pretend to type
on a black keyboard
in a tan office building

you swear some
invisible force
is pressing it's elbow
to your chest
and you're not sure
if you want it to
let up

you were
vibrant in the night,
lime green
and electric blue hues
illuminating my pillow cases

this place is gray-
when did the fog
dim the street lights,
seep into the coffee shops,
wrap it's calloused hands
around studio apartments,
and lines to registers
in grocery stores
for miles?

or was it there all along-
you, with bright yellow words
and hot pink kisses,
were perhaps only a distraction,
a white light
in a sea of navy blue darkness-
when they came to shut you out
the colorlessness
of weekday living
between subway stations
and bus terminals
was suddenly visible
to the naked eye?

for the first time, maybe
i was just another
naked eye

this is the terminal
the point of connection
and disconnection
this is the terminal
the irreversible end
of something greater
than whiskey in a mason jar
this is the terminal
im waving goodbye to something,
as it exits the city,
im not sure what
but i know
it's never coming back
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