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 Jan 2016 K R W
Caroline E
 Jan 2016 K R W
Caroline E
Curse my sense of touch.
Because of it, I wouldn't have thought that the feeling of being in your arms felt like I was finally home.

Curse my sense of smell.
Because of it, I inhaled your aroma when I hugged you; it's addictive.

Curse my sense of hearing.
Because of it, I was able to hear your voice and every time you spoke it was so soothing and intriguing.

Curse my eyes.
Because of them, I was able to see your beautiful face.

Curse my mind, for keeping you there all the time
And curse my heart, for thinking you were the one.
Without the poem of a great writer (*cough cough* m i a ), I wouldn't have been able to gather inspiration to write with this one. <3
 Jan 2016 K R W
6th Sense
 Jan 2016 K R W
I see you too much
I hear you to much
I smell you too much
I taste you too much
I feel you too much

That you became my
6th sense
 Jan 2016 K R W
A Dream
 Jan 2016 K R W
I had created a dream
Where everything was what it seemed
No underlying lies
No forming covert ties
I had created a dream
In which there was no time for sorrow or grief
Where a heart could not be stolen
Without any care
As if by a thief
I had created a dream
Where people were not bridges
Used to get to the other side
Where I knew
If something said
Was false or true
I had created a dream
 Jan 2016 K R W
Destiny Fleming
“I love you.”

You do not know
the idea of pills in
unknown bottles
Or the blade
waiting for the whisper
of crimson
The hopelessness and
abandonment of a God
your stomach can
no longer swallow

You do not know
the stale hours
of quiet sanctuary
I took within the
to grasp why my
thoughts always ran
to oblivion
when I was so close
to making Death

I have never
told you any of

a problem
is still a problem,
and you've always
told me,
“I'm a problem solver.”
but I know
this is one without
a solution.
(I'm proud of this)
 Jan 2016 K R W
Destiny Fleming
She loved when they
made love
and her heart
would peak

She loved the kisses he
planted upon her

She loved the lazy
afternoons spent
in the Sunday

She loved the hands
that could make
her high
without any measure

She made no mention
her guilty pleasures

With each day she
would have never
guessed that
he would make her

The bruises he left
were contradictions
to the kisses he
had once planted

The lazy afternoons
were filled with screaming
and *** without

But she stayed

She stayed

Why did she stay?

 Jan 2016 K R W
Destiny Fleming
The recollection of screaming and
tears breaks every wave of my
thoughts. The sheets remembered
the melody of you, and I can still
smell you dancing within in the air
of my desolated thoughts.

The screams had made a home inside of
my ears, and I brought them forward
everyday; I just wanted to remember
something of you.

Your tears.
Oh, God.
Your tears.
I drowned in them every night.
I never bothered to learn the
swim; I felt closer to you the
more I struggled to pull a
harrowing breathe from the lungs of
a being I did not recognize as myself.

I felt closer when meals turned into
a nightmare; when my bones stabbed
at my skin; threatening to push through
the shell of me.

I especially felt close when the metallic
barrel of my father’s gun whispered
sweet nothings; appealing demons I had
buried six feet under.

But even though I tried to feel so close
to you again,
I could not forgive the memories
within my mind for bringing
you home to me everyday. -DDF
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