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still
      bleeding
like the Earth seeps
carbon carriers
losing air
and trying to fill my
lungs deeper
fuller
trying to
take a look at what
love means
just to catch a glimpse
just to feel
the clutches of
a warm-hearted
half ***
idea of forever
to whisper
3 words
3 syllables
to actually mean it

to hold it in my hands
and watch the warmth melt
freeze
repeat

what is it like?
to hold this
fraudulent thought
in your head for so long
what is it like to
find that forever just walks
                                                                             away?
 Mar 2013 Jessica M
Mara Siegel
3/9
 Mar 2013 Jessica M
Mara Siegel
3/9
shivers sweep down my spine when I
hear your laugh and see your teeth
[white and straight and hypnotizing]
oh, please, I can't remember the last time I didn't want to dive into your flesh
and dance on your nerves
to see you react to my body on yours.
and while you're standing slightly slouched with
broad shoulders and rough hands
I sit slightly smaller with no fingerprints wondering if there's a chance that maybe our bodies were cut from the same piece of cheap cardboard, meant to fit together with their
jig-sawed  edges.
Incoherent
 Mar 2013 Jessica M
Lyra Brown
i simply cannot fathom
going out every single
saturday night
the world is cold and vicious enough as it is,
and we all know
that nighttime is different universe,
alcoholics covering up their scars with the slogans like
"i'm young and i'm allowed to have fun" or
"YOLO!"
bars full to the brim with
**** yous and what's your numbers and i'm-in-the-mood-to-start-a-fight-bro
don't  get me wrong, it is fun
to go out sometimes
but after a while it gets old
because the world is cold and vicious enough as it is
i much prefer sleeping or
curling up with a book and a blanket and a hot mug of tea
cuddling with solitude while listening
to Sufjan or Regina or Elliott or Joni
or watching a disney movie,
where i feel safe,
clinging to a place
where the world won't ruin me.
 Mar 2013 Jessica M
PK Wakefield
when admits into me the splendor

           ;(your heart)

by quick immutable prancing cloven love
a shall star

                        (within dumb lips contained)




                         revolt against darkness




                                  A brightness



                              more sweet than
                              bitter less
                              and without limit

                              (honey;salt)


                              Dissolving completely
                              the whole of your breast
                              into livid Spring
                              a bruise


                               and become

                               again whole

                               again young



                                again,

                                    .



                                       ,






                           .
 Mar 2013 Jessica M
Lyra Brown
remember the first time you got drunk
your best friend brought over a 2'6 of *****
and you drank it like it was water like you had been
stranded in a desert for 40 days and 40 nights
your parents were outside too oblivious to notice
recklessness was a contagious disease in that house
and you all had caught it sadly, willingly, restlessly
by the time 6am came around you woke up with your
best friend on your right, and a pile of puke on your left
you placed your sheets in the washing machine without rinsing
the ***** off of them first
so it was just sheets mixed with puke and water,
swishing around,
and it took you years to realize
that nothing could ever get clean
that way.
 Mar 2013 Jessica M
Lyra Brown
She was five years old when she first stepped on a plane
The stranger next to her smiled and asked,
“Where are you headed, honey?”
She gazed out the window, smiled and said
“To the one place it doesn't hurt to stare.
I'm going to the moon."
Her mother brushed her hair back gently and whispered to the stranger,
“It must have been so beautiful to be so oblivious, hey?”
And they both laughed discreetly as if she hadn’t heard.

But what they didn’t know
Was that she was always listening
And she knew
That they
Were wrong.

She was struck with sadness when the plane landed
And she found herself standing on the same planet she had left,
She cried for days
That was her first taste
Of true disappointment.

“What is reality?” She would ask her mother
Every night before bed.
“Reality is what you know.
Nothing is as it seems though, baby.
Sweet dreams.” Her mother would say,
As she turned out the light and gently shut the door.

That was her first taste
Of self awareness.

From then on she knew
That she would never again rely
On other people to give her what she needed -
Answers, affection, safety, love.

From then on she knew
That she would always  be dependant on
Everyone she did not know,
Everything she could not touch,
And every place she could not be.

That was the beginning
Of when she split herself in
Two
And it all began
With almost landing on the moon.
 Mar 2013 Jessica M
Lyra Brown
one thing is for sure:
it's easier
to replace something
than to change something.

for a long time she turned away from the mirror
and watched herself replace
scars with *****,
validating it because at least
she was only hurting herself
one way and not both.

for a long time i moved away from my mother
and turned into a doormat disguised
as a magnet that attracted
people that used me just as often,
and loved me just as little and wondered
why i still felt the same level of worthlessness at the end of the day
that i felt as a little girl.

for a long time i pushed people away
and to this day
i wish someone would have told me
how childhood abandonment will stick with you
through the long haul of adulthood,
but no one did and so i watched people leave
and wondered why they left, where they went
and for the people who stayed, i wondered
why they were still here, and how much more awful of a person
did i have to be
to get them to leave me.

"you wanted this." some would say,
when they found me drenched with sweat and blood and tears
sobbing on the floor
"get up. stop crying. you're being pathetic."
and i agreed with them, because i didn't know
any better.

it's easier
to replace your feelings with somebody else's
it's easier to blame yourself for why others left you
it's easier to assume no one will ever love you
more than they love getting drunk and having fun

but a good friend of mine once told me,
the easy thing is very rarely the right thing
and that maybe she should take her own advice
and that in retrospect, yes,
replacement is the signature replica of how you were raised
but real change,
that is the true definition of a life transition.
 Mar 2013 Jessica M
Lyra Brown
And I thought of all the people
I so desperately wished I could
Stick my broken hands into
And rearrange their hearts to make
Them love me
And I thought of the million ways
I mutilated myself to fit the mould
Of another persons needs
And I felt the presence of absence
All over again
And I thought of the serenity prayer
They say in AA meetings,
The part about accepting
The things you cannot change,
The courage to change the things you can and the wisdom to know
The difference and I started to cry
Because if the sky can rain one minute and snow the next without
Knowing the difference
Then how on earth can I even fathom
Accepting the fact that I cannot
Even begin to tell you the root of
How I first began to rot?
Because you won’t listen and I won’t spill and my heart is an empty shell I wish you’d fill
But you can’t and you won’t
And there’s no way around it but
If I can’t accept it at least I can
Think about it
And thinking is not better than
Accepting
But it’s something
And something is always
Better than nothing.
 Mar 2013 Jessica M
Mara Siegel
I spent months replacing old scars with new, nearly identical ones
(no longer self inflicted, at least)
and I spent hours looking in the mirror at the slight bulge of my stomach and the two mountains I called my hips
thinking
   "oh, these are such a lovely addition to my skin. oh, I wish they would last."
             and I wanted
nothing more but the constant reminder that I, yes I, was something worth destroying, because
to destroy something means that something was once worth looking at and deciding to
act.
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