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Jordan Frances Oct 2014
A streetlight is my only friend tonight.
It listens to me as I write
It watches me cry
Without passing judgement.
It smells the smoke inside my lungs
And does not say a single word about it.

A cigarette is my only friend today.
It convinces me to stay calm
And gives me the best pep talk
I have ever received.
It is like a therapist, a life coach and a lover
All rolled into one
Because as caring as it is
If you're not cautious
You will get burned.

My car is my only friend this evening.
It lets me get away
When things get tricky at home.
It allows me to dodge every
Hate-infused word that is fired like a bullet
Every
"You're too fat"
And
"What is wrong with you?"
Driving on the open road
Is my escape from the clammer and the noise.

Well, I guess I have several friends after all
So why do I still feel so lonely?
Jordan Frances Oct 2014
You have covered your tracks
And were ridiculously efficient about it.
Therefore, I cannot send you to court
And get the justice that I deserve
But when you get all old and grey
I will not pretend to hurt.
If you put a gun to your head
And blow out all your brains
I will not act as though
I feel any pain.
Should you take a handful of pills somewhere along the way
I would not be surprised, dear
But from me, you would not see a tear
If you were to stop your heart from beating
With a dagger and a pen
I would not agonize over your loss but, rather
Be more at ease instead.
So should your life be taken tonight
Do me a favor, **** your memory too
But should you remain living, sweetie
I'd rather die than be with you.
Jordan Frances Oct 2014
The smoke in the air tells a story
As she ***** on a cigarette.
She sits in a park, alone at night
Waiting for someone to tell her to go home
Before they call the police.

The smoke in the air tells a story.
She remembers the days before she needed this fix
The days when she was happy.
Times before her ex-boyfriend tanked her self-esteem
Times prior to some guy picking her up when she was
Down and out
He used her for his own selfish needs
Left her feeling *****
He covered his tracks to make sure
No one would believe her.

The smoke in the air tells a story.
As the way it crawls down her throat and chokes her
Reminds her of the era
Not long ago
When bulimia was her best friend.
Why does she still wish at times
That she could purge her life away?

The smoke in the air tells a story.
Of the times when her ex brought her Marlboros
And they polished off a pack when her parents weren't home.
They were such a cliché, with cigarettes after ***
But that's exactly how she wanted it to be.

The smoke in the air tells a story.
About the week after her grandfather suddenly passed away
She was on her ninth day without sleep
Chain smoking provided her with some relief
And so did passing out in an empty lot.

The smoke in the air tells a story
Her story
My story.
So I suppose one more pack couldn't hurt.
Jordan Frances Oct 2014
Sadness is a moment
A ripple in a pond
A wrinkle in time.
Sadness is a plague
From which you cannot hide.
Sadness is a desert
And is the ocean blue.
Sadness is a heart break
That cannot be fixed with glue.
Sadness is an empty space
From which some would die to escape.
Sadness is a blessing
That some receive too late.
Then again,
This poem is invalid
Because if we're being technical
Sadness is all about perspective.
Therfore,
Sadness is relative.
I needed a drill to cure writer's block.  I found a prompt on a website that said to write a poem in which ten lines start with "Sadness is..." I cheated and only did 8.
Jordan Frances Oct 2014
I used to be such a good writer.
When I picked up a pen
The ink would automatically begin to flow.
I could tell a tragedy through words
A love story through spaces
And it all came so naturally.
But recently,
Writer's block
Has been the bane of my existence.
Jordan Frances Oct 2014
I am
An ex girlfriend
An ex bulimic
An ex addict
An ex model daughter
An ex daddy's girl
Yet, all of these things
Have somehow marked an X
On my soul.
Jordan Frances Oct 2014
Every inch of you
Entangled every inch of me.
I did not welcome it with open arms
In fact, I pushed you away
But your words were like bullets
Shooting down each and every
"Just do this another time"
And
"Not here, not now."
You made me afraid to say no
That does not mean I was saying yes.
Nobody knows what you did
Because they think we just hooked up.
They believe that because I had lost my virginity
I no longer deserved respect
I no longer had a voice
Nor did I get to consent.
People think
That just because we didn't have ***
(Although, the relentless, derogatory texts you kept sending
Could have sent anyone over the edge)
It's not a big deal.
They accept the notion
That if a girl meets a guy for a specific purpose
Things are bound to happen
And changing your mind
Is not an option.
You did not **** me, let's be clear about it
But that, ladies and gentleman
Is **** culture at it's finest.
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