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213 · Sep 2016
Broken
Jamison Bell Sep 2016
Some of us are in indescribable pain.
Meandering through the days while barely holding onto to themselves. Clutching at a line so thin.

We talk to them, laugh with them, and say our goodbyes. And although you might think they're fine, they're not. You've gone home and they're still mired in their own misery.

Whether self induced or not, it doesn't matter. They're stuck in a perpetual pattern of loathing, usually it's self. There's no light.

There isn't much you can do to help them. You can call them, you can be there for them, but too often these endeavors are in vain.

Sometimes it gets to the point where their pain is the only absolute they have. They've embraced it because of its familiarity.

Too often these people are lost to us. They're broken. The damage is just irreparable. To stay yourself would only suffer the crushing inevitably.

We convince ourselves of things. It's an auto response to outside stimuli. Some of us go defense, others offense. Whether whatever it is we've convinced ourselves is true or not. It doesn't matter.

Tears in the rain.
212 · Mar 2022
Zoe will tell you
Jamison Bell Mar 2022
I don’t want your help.
I want you to help them.
So that there’s no one like me left to help.
Jamison Bell Dec 2018
You have any idea
What it’s like to be a nihilist
******* everyday
Knowing nothing still exist

The scenery turns grey
And no more light gets cast
Contemplating nothingness
Any **** could be your last

(sigh) please bear with me
Lack of hope has made me nauseous
You people are ******* crazy
So one must be a little cautious

Look it’s not personal
You’re just not over here
Perhaps if you met me in the middle
Then we could have a beer

Until then my wayward friend
You keep safe your hope and faith
Just keep it over there
Your overcompensating wraith

Look it’s just not easy
You’re all so happy and delusional
Just makes me kind of wonder
If your crazy is institutional

Don’t you see it doesn’t matter
What anyone believes
All that’s certain is uncertain
You’re not the only one who grieves

So step down from your podium
And hand me Schrödinger’s cat
You could say that cat’s the doctor
Which makes you my friend, a rat
211 · Mar 2022
How I met your mother
Jamison Bell Mar 2022
So then I told her I toss off dolphins as part of my charity work.
She talked about her ex, the pastor, and I said that he’s a ****.
Her sweaty calloused hands then seized upon my thigh.
I know it’s called vitiligo but her face just looked like rye.
The night was going swimmingly so I ordered another drink.
I put it on her tab again and asked about her kink.
She said she’d like to have dumpster *** and probably get chinese.
I scattered soiled diapers down so she wouldn’t hurt her knees.
We ordered teriyaki sticks and I think she got chow mein.
I took a cab and let her walk as she said she liked the rain.
Back at her apartment she was over thirty minutes late.
I said she owed me **** and there would be no more debate.
Well I didn’t like the **** and I probably wasn’t very clear.
So that’s why I’m in the hospital, now tell me why are you in here.
210 · Oct 2018
Narcissus
Jamison Bell Oct 2018
You get off on licking your own skin, lapping up that which you sweat.
It’s who you think you are that you love more than anything else.
A trough for the masses who seek to get their fill until you stop smiling.
Misery lies in wait while you bask in the glow of idol worship.
Getting off on getting off until all that’s left is a lie and an empty bottle.
You better hope that that mirror is as good liar as you are to yourself.
210 · Jun 2017
About time, amirite?
Jamison Bell Jun 2017
Well it finally happened. I've become too depressed to write.
209 · May 2016
Todd?
Jamison Bell May 2016
I tire of the same old.
Stories long forgotten.
Restless staring at the moon.
My will is broke and rotten.

I heard you once tell a friend.
Of how you long to be.
A necessity to someone.
Just as someone isn't me.

I've never been a destination.
Or a thought one would cherish.
I suppose to most I simply am.
One they wish would perish.

So as I said I grow weary.
Of these waxing gibbons.
Weighing on my soul.
These chains are but ribbons.

My words mean so little.
In so I don't mean much.
Holding on to memories.
Of when I felt her touch.
Jamison Bell Oct 2019
The dusty road hath grown grey
Time has been here too
A nomad appears from the east
And I ask of you

Tell me where the flowers grow
In hues of red and black
Tell me where the sun was last
And when will she be back

A tired wind pushed him forth
For he had spoken not a word
I wrote I love you on a ravens back
And I cursed that ominous bird

Cigarettes and crescent moons
Dead soldiers on the ground
We could say a thousand words
And never make a sound

You told me once long ago
How you wished it ought to be
And through the dark and stormy nights
‘‘Twas you I longed to see

Shall I set the world afire
To help you find your way
Perhaps if I destroy it all
Then maybe you’d stay
208 · Jun 2017
It just kind of happened
Jamison Bell Jun 2017
My legs they hurt.
The pain's in my knees.
Could you bring me a scotch
and my cigarettes please.

Now tell me a story.
One I've not heard.
Perhaps your life.
Spare not a word.

Tell me your sorrow.
Speak of your dreams.
Of soft Sunday mornings.
Or crystal clear streams.

I'm here for you now.
Not always I'll be.
So tell us a secret.
It'll die with me.
207 · Jun 2016
Unfinished
Jamison Bell Jun 2016
"I could write you a poem", I said,
hoping against all hope.
"And what would I do with that?"
she reached for a cigarette.

"Perhaps it would make you happy?"
"Is that what you want?" she said.
"To see me happy?"
"Moreso than to see the morrow." I pleaded.

"What about what I want?"
The ember glowed highlighting her cheeks.
"Name it." my hand reaching for hers uneasily.
"I want you........(she smiled to herself) to go away."

It has been many a night,
many a dream has come to pass.
Her skin a reflection of the sun
as it brushes amber stained glass.

The softness of her lips,
petals of the sweetest flower.
The aching of these memories
ceaseless every hour.

The temper of a hurricane
meeting a tornado in a bar.
The passion of a new moon
even with its celestial scars.

Time has made her a spectre
it is my dreams she haunts.
I left without an argument
I gave her what she wants.

Cursed am I to exile
to ponder what she is.
A beauty yet unrivaled,
what was and never is.
207 · Nov 2018
Fool’s Fool
Jamison Bell Nov 2018
Don’t presume to think that they love you, because the truth is that they don’t.
Nor should you ponder whether they’ll want you, because the truth is that they won’t.
They tried to warn you ahead of time, they were trying to save you the trouble.
Apparently they saw your future, just your dreams in ash and rubble.
You didn’t listen, you held on to hope to think it was at least worth a try.
Now you drink, you smoke, and curse. Because you believed in your own lie.
207 · Jan 2019
Green
Jamison Bell Jan 2019
Pick a day
Any day
Everyday
It doesn’t matter
Not a one goes by when I don’t think about you
Not just your smile
Your laugh
You
Every single day
206 · Apr 2018
A word, if you please?
Jamison Bell Apr 2018
Your parting lips only serve to decimate. To remind me of what I already know.
How it is and what isn’t real, beginning to twist and intertwine to a point where I can no longer follow any stream of thought with trust.
I roll back. Holding my nose out of habit the dark waters in the back of my mind envelop.
Tranquility doesn’t reside here. There’s no shelter. No rest for the wicked. And I’m wide awake.
Chaos and order dance here. Like Astaire and Rogers. They waltz and spin across a floor of fire and ice. It’s beautiful here and there’s nothing to see.
I write here. I wallow in angst amidst the pages that don’t make sense. Dripping with ink and tears I’ll scratch at the walls in vain for hours. Until. That word that fits comes to me. That word that I hope will drive my point home and scream “*******!” into the deafest ears.
And sometimes I write about you.
My bane. The Achilles’ tendon that keeps me grounded. A reminder of who I’m not. One who cannot be so fortunate but must toil in a pit of my own design.
I’ll emerge from those tranquil waters. My bath that does nothing to cleanse my soul. And I’ll fall again into my role of perpetual sadness. Because I cannot see beyond death. Her wings unfurled before me. Her warm darkness longing to envelop and shroud me from my own reflection.
Where are you my love?
206 · May 2017
I can't believe you
Jamison Bell May 2017
So many lies to tell.
The black lies are the ones that matter.
These are the ones that destroy lives.
Reinforced by the need for the illusion.

There's a reason they call them little white lies.
Because they don't matter.
So is that what we are?
Little white lies.

So therein lies the problem I'd say.
Stop. Telling. Lies.
Or, never start to begin with.
What would life be then?

Still a lie.
206 · Jun 2017
Lucky?
Jamison Bell Jun 2017
How is it I can have 219 contacts in my phone, and none of them are friends or family?
Jamison Bell Nov 2022
I don’t feel you anymore.
Back when
there was a halo around the moon and stars.
With your feet in my lap.
Cigarette smoke like moments disappeared into the folds between night and day.
You’d sometimes reach out for me.
It was like being noticed by the universe.
You circumvented my illusions.
And for a brief moment.
I mattered.
Jamison Bell Jul 2017
What a shame.
That we find ourselves.
In the here and now.
Instead of.
The there and then.
Jamison Bell Jul 2017
I wish I could zoom in on my world.
Reign in the picture so to speak.
You're angry over your coffee not being prepared to your liking.
I'm a tad irritated at those individuals that think capitalism is the unquestionable means of socioeconomics.
You're excited because your new sheets from Amazon arrived.
I'm pretty happy about that baby elephant at the Pittsburgh zoo.
You're worried your daughter will turn into a liberal.
I'm worried about werewolves, solar flares, and running out of toilet paper.
I know it's all a matter of perspective.
I just can't seem too reel it in.

So do you want to buy a ***** pump?
204 · May 2019
Heartsbane
Jamison Bell May 2019
Ashen words fall from my fingers
Twisted bodies of hope and sadness
Spread across a white floor
A crime scene of my thoughts on you

The moon, the ivory Phoenix of the night
Perches on her shoulder
As she traces her fingers over the corpses
Of the words I’ve murdered in her name

Scarlet clouds form in her steps
In the landscape void of color in my mind
She reigns in a world of my making
That I destroy and rebuild everyday

So as the stars fade into a sapphire hue
At the start of a new song
And the celestial waltz tirelessly continues
I’ll make you the same promise I made yesterday

Always
Jamison Bell Mar 2018
We understand the futility of endeavoring to unravel the intricate illusions of life. We’ll acknowledge without hesitation that ultimately nothing we do matters.
We’ve discussed how the human psyche is just too fragile to grasp the truth of our existence. Ineffectual beings of nothingness. Meandering about under the delusion that we as individuals, have a purpose for being.
And yet, even under these shared circumstances. This mutual acknowledgement of understanding and empathizing with each others plight.
Funny.
That we still struggle.
With things as simple as ourselves.
203 · Jul 2019
Ya like dags?
Jamison Bell Jul 2019
People,
To me.
Are like puppies.
Adorably naive monsters.
That will inevitably
**** on my life at any given moment.
They’re not to be trusted.
Jamison Bell Sep 2017
what are these days void of you? forlorn moments blending together into a slurry of grey.
dreams forever the favored illusion.
even when dashed against the rocks of a restless night.
their shards hold the images.
of something that never need be said in order to exist.
202 · Jul 2016
The Rabbit
Jamison Bell Jul 2016
Ok. So I guess there was this rabbit or some **** you may find cute.
She only had three legs. She was also deaf and mute.

She happened upon a stream one day and decided to get a drink.
She never saw the eagle. There was no time to think.

She didn't die immediately for she was quite the little fighter.
She kicked her legs frantically until she felt a little lighter.

The eagle he flexed his talons and her rib cage he did crush.
As he soared towards the cliff her innards turned to mush.

The eagle feasted well that day upon our little friend.
Let's face the facts our little friend was ****** until the end.

I suppose that's how it goes, in the survival of the fittest.
You can be the prince of speed and still not make the list.

Sometimes it doesn't matter. That's when you do it out of spite.
Rage like Dylan Thomas, against the dying of the light.

For like our friend the rabbit, that hapless little *****.
Kick against that final breath until your final twitch.

**** death. (mic drop, bow, pick up the mic and hope I didn't break it cause it looks expensive and how many millionaire poets do you know?)
Do not use toothpaste to clean your toaster. It doesn't work.
Jamison Bell Apr 2019
I had a dream I didn’t care
My chest was open my heart was bare
I had a dream where I didn’t care
I looked about but you weren’t there
And I won’t sleep while I’m aware
That if I dream you won’t be where
I think I thought I saw you there
201 · Aug 2017
A great Bloody Mary recipe
Jamison Bell Aug 2017
I feel like I've been bleeding for the past 45 years.
And you'd think by now I'd be smiling.
There were too many mistakes. Too many things said and unsaid.

Countless conversation soaked in whiskey and absorbed into the firelight.
Reflections and things you can trust the flames to never repeat.

I trekked beyond Insanityville to the other side of the tracks.
Alone.

I always just assumed someone would follow me.
I assumed a lot of things along the way.

Much like my life.
I don't know where I was going with this.
Ok so I lied.
Jamison Bell Jun 2019
She steps in like a Comanche nightmare
To steal away the heart and enslave it to her will
And the sun with its tired fingers, straining to hold on to the day
Sinks like I into the moons of her eyes
The night stirs no empathy from me
As I am alone
Still
200 · Jun 2017
Spoiler Alert
Jamison Bell Jun 2017
Where would I find you if I decided to look?
Alone in a corner, your nose in a book?
And what time would you say I could find you there?
If it were to matter, and I were to care.
And what could I say to avert your gaze?
Up from those pages of which you graze?
Perhaps I could offer a limerick or two?
An impromptu serenade just for you?
I hear you, I feel you, you want me to go.
I don't have a ticket and I'm late for the show.
I see you're reading "My Sisters Keeper".
Anna wins the case, but then meets the reaper.
Jamison Bell Aug 2019
I hope one day you forgive yourself.

I hope you never have to know how much it hurts.

I hope you’ll turn to face the sun, so it can tell the universe just how beautiful you are.

I hope that you’ll see who I see when I look at you.

I hope a butterfly lands on you.

I hope one day you cry because you’re happy.

I hope that someone tickles your heart.

I hope you get to live at least one dream.

I hope I see you before you see me. So that I can have a moment. To court you, love you, and leave you. Before you do the same to me.

I hope. Not for me. For you.
200 · Oct 2017
Forelorn
Jamison Bell Oct 2017
I love you.
"Why?"
Because you're good.
"No. I'm not."
Yes
"If I'm so good. Why don't I love you?"
That's why you're good.
199 · Oct 2018
Jaxon!
Jamison Bell Oct 2018
I’m sorry my little friend
Sometimes there’s nothing to tout
But that feeling is only temporary
For one day the sun’ll come out

What once was you held on to
Those days long have passed
It was but a dream, it would seem
To think those days would last

Don’t think that I’ll forget you
For that’s something I’ll never do
My life at one point had meaning
And it was all because of you

I don’t know what’ll happen
I don’t know how things’ll be
But to you I’m forever grateful
You brought out the good in me

You go on ahead and live your life
And I hope it’s an amazing one
And know that if I wanted anything
It was to call you my son
198 · Sep 2016
Just you
Jamison Bell Sep 2016
I'm going have another drink. Then I'm going to smoke a little. Afterwards, I'll read until I fall asleep with a book on my chest.
And if my dreams aren't of you. I'll try again.
Jamison Bell Jul 2019
What would it take?
The breath of me perhaps?
For you to see
The pieces of who I was
Chiseled scraps of memories
Littering the floor around me
Would you have loved that person
Before time took its hammer to me
197 · Jul 2019
I wish I was more like you.
Jamison Bell Jul 2019
Light behaves as both a particle and a wave.
A day on Venus is longer than it’s year.
Polar bears aren’t even white.
Everything I see has already happened so I’m always in the past.
Love is just a biochemical/psychological response to external stimuli.
There’s a good chance nothing is real.
I don’t actually have free will.
The mind named itself.
This could all be a simulation.
There’s real lemon juice in furniture polish but lemonade is made with artificial flavors.
And every decision creates a new timeline.
I guess I’ll have the chicken marsala.
Jamison Bell Sep 2017
You were like the rays of sunlight that commit b and e on my house.
Unlike those pesky photons I didn't know what you wanted.
Perhaps you were like them. Perhaps you yourself had travelled almost 93 million miles and just need to rest yourself in the back of my mind.
An amber spark that reminds me to do the right thing.
Bending my will be ****** to the mystery that is her.
She's an unexpected contingency to a life void of contingencies.
I'm no longer who I was and I will never be again who I am now.
You had no right. Your actions were warrantless and your condemnation of my perpetual misery was reckless and without forethought.
Resigned, undefined, and out of line.
She. Her. Pacing. Back and forth back and forth.
Wearing a path in the floor of my thoughts.
Is there no drug, no place, no piece of a field for some peace of mind?
Jamison Bell Dec 2018
Or how about when you realize just how little you mean to someone who means so much?
Jamison Bell Mar 2018
There’s not much to who I am.
An assortment of ****** memories and ******* decisions pretty much cumulates the bulk of it.
There are few chapters left in my book, if any at all, and it’s finest kind because my ink well is running dry.
I figured it out. No bible, no koran, no holy scripture. It was pretty easy actually. It all came down to “just don’t be a ****”. Somehow there are people who have managed to become incredibly wealthy by stretching that philosophy out over hundreds of pages and thousands of years.
I made sure to secure any permanent ties. No kids, no wife, no friends or family. I think I’ve always known I was only writing a short story. So it sub consciously never made sense to establish any ties. Though it wasn’t for lack of trying. I endeavored nonetheless. Human nature I suppose.
Mine was never good story. More along the lines of The Catcher in the Rye meets an early eighties Hustler meets a refrigerator magnet that reads Worcester.
I found it frustrating. Perpetually confusing and more than once I’ve wanted it to be over.
A good writer would be able to continue along this line of thinking and perhaps mold it into something meaningful.
I’m not a good writer.
194 · Jun 2017
I wish it wasn't so.
Jamison Bell Jun 2017
I suffer.
Day in and day out I suffer still.
Under the weight of a mind broken.
You think I don't want to heed your words?
To believe in you?
These things that you say.
They're not true.
They've never been true.
Not when it comes to me.
Perhaps for others, but not I.
I can't.
I want to. With all the conviction of a storm.
So desperately.
Nothing have I wanted more.
Alas though.
I know I don't belong.
Because, broken.
You say nice things.
But they're not meant for me.
Jamison Bell Jun 2017
I simply don't have a reason.
There is no validation.
To continue this existence.
A permanent vacation.

I asked her for some help.
Of which she offered none.
So I'm thinking I should give up.
With this life I think I'm done.

I fell in love a few times.
And it was rather nice.
They never loved me back.
I gave up after thrice.

Now I go about the motions.
Pretending that I'm fine.
Still looking for that reason.
For an answer so devine.

I can't imagine being missed.
Not a single tear will fall.
The void lies within my reach.
For I can hear it's call.

It isn't hope that keeps me going.
It isn't fear that holds me back.
It's the pain inside I relish.
This ****'s like ******* crack.

So perhaps one day they'll find me.
Lifeless, blue, and out of luck.
Something something something.
Something something ****.
193 · May 2017
Don't say it.
Jamison Bell May 2017
Thinking back I have always been the first to say it.
Longing for that mutual connection.
It evades me.
Acting as my shadow.
Always just out of reach.
Playing life's role as Tantalus.
I'll roll and re roll the thoughts in my head.
Before lighting them up and smoking them down to roaches.
Confirming whether or not it's real.
Then and only then will I dare to say it.
Never expecting a reply.
Always hoping they'll say nothing.
Unfortunately.
They'll always say something.
Typically a lie.
Replying in kind or repeating what I've said back to me.
With all the sincerity of a demon who's been ordered to bring back my soul at any cost.
It leaves me feeling void.
It'd be better if they'd said nothing at all.
To instead leave me at the precipice.
Staring into the sun to blind me in assurance that from then on I'd have nothing to look forward to.
It hurts when I hear them say it.
Why bother?
To placate me?
To salvage what's left of me in thinking it's what I want you to say.
Save your declarations for those of whom you honestly feel.
Leave my words for dead.
Because they'll never mean as much to you as you do to me.
So just leave the "I love you" to hang there in the silent night.
Hold your hapless tongue and go.
My ego needs not your pity.
193 · Mar 2019
Just lick it
Jamison Bell Mar 2019
My eyes feasted upon you like dogs
Salivating at the thought you
Honey dipped basked in blue fire
Poured out by the moon
My minds hands shake
You’re a poem that can’t be written
Moving like sunlight
Only I couldn’t follow
My moment in your warmth
Fleeting and coveted
193 · Mar 2019
Fools care
Jamison Bell Mar 2019
My shadow
Featureless, quiet, mysterious
Is a better version of me than I
Jamison Bell Sep 2016
We stand in the shadows.
Meandering about like blind puppies.
Repeatedly stepping in the **** we leave behind.
We can take off the blindfolds.
We could change things.
We don't dare.
We can't.
We've become to accustomed to the madness.
We've found comfort is the screaming.
Any other sort would only draw suspicion.
The darkness, the moonlight, the silence.
Bearers of our secrets and desires.
192 · Jun 2017
Don't I look happy?
Jamison Bell Jun 2017
It's a funny thing.
Loneliness.
You can be surrounded by people and yet have no one to talk to.
You're tempted to try.
To reach out to someone.
But.
You don't want to bother anyone.
So then.
You figure.
There's no sense in being around all these people.
It's just weird.
So you wander off.
In search of.
A quiet moment.
Out of a dream,
a dream you don't wish to have again.
You immerse yourself in thought.
You long to raise your head and see someone standing before you.
You don't dare.
Why do that to yourself?
Because you're a *******.
You look up.
As if the Devil himself raised your chin with *******.
You can hear him laughing when he sees the look of disappointment on your face.
So you take his hand in an act of complacency.
And the two of you while the night away.
Two demons laughing at the moon.
Jamison Bell Oct 2019
There was once a path in the woods, ‘‘tis what the natives say
A place you should not venture, should you ever lose your way
There’s a path for the harvest moon, and one that’s best in blue
But beware yourself the wolf moon, lest you know what’s good for you

There lived an old woman, an ashen cabin wrought with many curses
When her boy was slain by wolves, she recited bible verses
And though god chose not to listen, as she begged him for salvation
The devil heard her sermon, and offered reparations

“Present your boy to the first full moon and bathe him in its light
Then lay him down upon the path and leave him for the night
You’ll have your boy back in your arms by dawn the very latest
And by my act you will see that god is the only sadist

Though there will be times when the debt must be returned
There are always little consequences, lessons to be learned
On each full moon your boy will become a ferocious raging beast
He’ll reap for me another soul for every man’s a feast”

The devil kept his promise and her boy he did well rise
And come the next full moon she saw the devil tells no lies
Before each full moon ever-after she’d chain him in the wood
He’d cry and scream and curse her soul as she did what she could

Until it was the old woman was bitten by the devil as a snake
He had not received his souls for his debt she did foresake
The tree with all its claw marks would stand alone next new moon
And the people of these lands would know horror all too soon

They say the devil watched as the monster ripped into its mother
Her soul the first to go, before he sought about another
The devil took the mother’s soul in his arms and waltzed her out the door
In his strife with god he let the beast set straight the score

If you look upon the somber rock where the earth and moon collide
To the west, and stay down low for its best that you should hide
You’ll see the devil dancing with his lovely maiden fair
While her son hunts in the forest for those that don’t beware
192 · Sep 2017
Look! It's nothing!
Jamison Bell Sep 2017
so this is a poem about nothing
so you might be on your way
if you're hoping it becomes something
this may well ruin your day

atomically I'm 99% nothing
so what of my thoughts of you
those ones that just leave me wanting
the ones that leave me askew

nothing happened and nothing's clear
something was and now it's gone
nothing holds nothing dear
somethings final curtain drawn

nothing only need be said
and i might have one less scar
some things should be left for dead
not shared across a bar

nothing is as something was
and that is what's to be
in a hundred years they won't remember
you them or me
191 · Sep 2016
Just another day
Jamison Bell Sep 2016
I have to think.
I have no other recourse.
My defense and my offense.
These things that come to mind.
Slain at birth for the sake of you.

I can't be.
I shouldn't be.
However I am.
Here now.
And I'm still thinking.

At my will kings fall.
Steel forms to my desire.
Anger is aroused when my fingers dance.
Destruction is of my construction.
I haven't stopped since I started.

I won't lie down.
Not with the dogs.
Or the sheep.
I'll tow the line.
To the edge of a cliff.

My ends do not match your means.
Jamison Bell Apr 2019
I dug a well and climbed inside, looking to find a place to hide. Not from you, Death, or they, but from the cold callous light of day.
191 · Jun 2017
It'll get easier.
Jamison Bell Jun 2017
Why do you cry?
Because you.
What about me?
You're not here.
That's no reason to cry.
You don't understand.
I do.
Why did you go?
Because.
Because why?
Shhhh it'll get easier.
No it won't.
With each new day you'll think of me less.
No I won't.
And before you know it, you won't think of me at all.
When?
Someday.
It hurts.
I know. It hurts me too.
190 · Apr 2019
Where were you
Jamison Bell Apr 2019
I keep my head down
Not because I’m sad
But because I know if I look up
There’ll be no one there
190 · Jun 2017
So?
Jamison Bell Jun 2017
So?
Where were you,
when they came back for me?
When hope left.
When doubt came back.
While the rain fell hard
and the moon hid.
Where were you?
I waited.
Where were you?
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