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 Aug 2016 Stranger Blue
Sierra
It’s okay, I only cry sometimes, I lie,
Because being honest and admitting to
Days filled with endless tears is
Unattractive
And nobody likes a weak girl with wet eyes
Tears mean
Instability
In the eyes of stones who masquerade
As human beings.

It’s okay, I only cry sometimes, I say,
Like when reading a book and it hits me
Harder than expected
Like on drunken nights when I’m lonely and
My past haunts me
Like the times when I’m really, truly, kind of
Very happy
Or when I’m numb to everything
And sometimes when nothing at all
has happened but I’m still moody

But it’s okay,
because honestly,
*I only cry sometimes.
Folds in the sand

At the hand of the wind

Not a clue where we end

Forgotten where to begin

All steps have been covered

In one fit of rage

Of words kept prisoner

That fought like hell to escape

Who knew the damage of one critical jail break

A tunnel dug with a spoon

Confused from lack of air

Dressed in filth

Anxious to be bare

Festered flesh

Left to heal

Stinging wound

Desperate not to feel

Victim to the elements

Sun scorched

Burned to a red

Learning to live life

Only living in one's head
Obsession fueled by love
Love fueled by rage
Emotional direction
Facing in every which way

Lonely in a crowd
Yet always seek one out
Floating far away
Falling through the clouds

Inner dialogue gone hazy
Mumbles turned to roars
Craziness is loud
Brain fallen into war

Stopping to inhale
Abundance not in lack
The only way to move forward
Is not by stepping back

Memory composed bars
Form a solid square
Remembering who I was
Knowing I'm not there  

Dinosaur bone megaphone
Screaming in the street
Only for a moment
Knocks me off my feet

A wave of hesitation
Saves me by an inch
I was almost fooled
As my pride took a pinch
When my finger met the paper, in a brief love affair, it took my blood as a trophy.
Then the red droplets created a beautiful mess as they sank into the dead white wood.
It stung badly, and it continued to hurt as I went on a mission to find a bandage that
could keep the crimson art inside of me, instead of spilling it everywhere.
When I wiped the excess blood away I saw nothing, yet I was still in pain.
But what hurts the most right now is my heart, because just like I couldn’t
see the papercut, you can’t see my broken heart either, and it is bleeding heavily.
Because of you.
And I can’t seem to find a bandage big enough to heal the
hole you left in my dying heart.
I am so happy that my poem was selected as a daily. That is so unbelievable on so many levels. Thank you so very much to all of your comments, likes and reposts. It means the world to me! :)
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