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 Aug 2017 Iris Madden
sabrina
staying up til 3:34am just thinking about his kisses

angrily fluffing pillows because they're not him

tossing and turning wondering if he's doing the same
To sleep is to recharge but my battery isn't dead
My brain powers on but my body cries for bed
Just one more thought, just hear me out
a memory or a wish
I want to sleep, I need to sleep, please let me sleep.

i'm tired, i'm angry, frustrated and sad
as the vulchers circle my head,
they're waiting for me to snuggle and curl
then they'll descend upon my bed
Please let me sleep, I need to sleep. I want to sleep
I don't have perfect hair
I'm not 6'2 & 190 pounds
I don't have bright teeth or a six pack
my eyes don't shine through a darkened room
and I'm far from photogenic
I forget more things than I remember
I have no special skills or discernable talents
my skin is pale and full of holes scars and ink
I feel uncomfortable out of place & awkward
in almost almost all social situations
I'm slightly paranoid & always afraid someone somewhere
is judging me
I rarely get anything on the first try & I often lose faith
before I accomplish what I've set out to do
I'm my own toughest critic & believe that
I'm average at best if even that
I may not be all that I'm supposed to be
but I might be everything you may never find
in someone else
so with all of my flaws faults & shortcomings
of which there are many
my heart still beats
and I can still manage
to love you all the same
My face is
Not photogenic enough
And my thoughts
Are undercaptured
 Aug 2017 Iris Madden
BH
With trembling hands I kiss you goodnight with my thoughts weighing me down and turning my stomach into knots like there's a storm inside my brain.

I can't even form a sentence because every letter feels like thorns caressing my lips.

I want to tell you I love you but I'm afraid of the thorns tearing my lips apart so I will stay quiet .

I hug you with my screaming thoughts and hope you can't hear the thorns shredding my tongue to pieces.
Opia. Noun. The ambiguous intensity of looking into someone's eyes, which can fell simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

As you lie in my arms, watching the television, you don't notice that my undivided attention is focused on you. Something I've been dreaming of for weeks, and it's finally come true. Even better, from your angle, you can't see me staring into your eyes, so I don't feel the nervous compulsion to turn away. Whether directly or not, I could drink in your eyes with mine, for hours, and they would be among the best hours of my life.
Then there's the other hand, held tightly by trepidation. I love the prospect of your eyes staring into mine, but it's not without its fears. I'm afraid you'll see all the pain and fears that I've spent the past seven years working to overcome. I'm afraid you'll see all the insecurity and doubts I have about myself. I'm afraid you'll see all the words that I long to whisper in your ear, but can't, because I'm terrified of scaring you away. I'm afraid you won't like the fact that, behind these eyes lies only pictures and thoughts of you. But most of all, I'm afraid that, unlike me, who loves every detail, and lives for moments like these, you won't love the things you see. I long for the day when you stare happily into my eyes, but I'm frightened that you won't enjoy the secrets they reveal.
 Aug 2017 Iris Madden
Wednesday
They say home is wherever you lay your head at night
That must be true
because my former house has a lock on the door now;
a lock to keep me out.

I never realized this is how it is to be homeless,
the endless wandering of a place to rest at night
the endless cycle of hunger and
thirst and
protection

I walk out of work with not a place to be in the world
and if I’m being honest it should frighten me.

I am a wanderer.

I have no sense of direction,
no moral pull,
nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I have this endless feeling of discomfort and
an airy breeze where the good in my heart and soul should be.

I am a girl, not a very beautiful or talented one.

I belong to anyone who belongs to everyone.

Home is where I rest my head for a night.

Home is a backseat
Home is a smoke filled room at 2 am
Home is a parking garage
Home is a strangers bedroom

Home is a feeling rather than a location,
but those who have a lock and key and
a mortgage fee will never understand.
I am homeless, but I am free.
"Not all who wander
are lost"
Yet still, I wonder
where am I
and where are we going?

But I know where I am
I'm in a library,
sipping a coffee
lost in my thoughts

Any of which range
from "what's for dinner?"
to "why am I here?"
Ranging from shallow
to deep.

My mind making
leap to leap.
Leaving me confused
and wondering,
Where am I
and where are we going?
roses are red but
romance is dead, so what use
is counting petals?
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