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you won't understand
everything i am
about to tell you

and i won't listen
sometimes
when you talk
about the things
that don't make sense to me

you will frown
and i will scowl

and kiss away
the lines
the way you kiss
my swollen eyes
and make my cheeks
dry

you will go
for long drives
into the night
and i will wake up early
and go for long walks
and try be back
to kiss you
before the sun
reaches your eyes

i will turn down the music
and you will
turn it up

and i won't change the song
the way you will
or hide the remote behind my back
with a teasing smile
the way you do

but i will appear clueless
when you look for your watch
(it will be around my wrist)

and you will pretend
that time doesn't matter to you
(although it does)
and i will pretend
that time does matter to me
(although it doesn't)
and drink tea
inhaling cigarette smoke
while you drink coffee
and exhale
grey
into me
the pale moths
silver and egg-shell blue
fall lilac
across the dusty
wooden floors
in the abandoned buildings
lining
7th avenue

they all fall
every night
just before
the scattered pages
that drift across
the room
like sail boats
in summer
on the waves
of the spring breeze

their eyes
the ones that long for the sun
but are open
at the wrong hour
always see
the black swirls
that run into each other

just before
their wings
stop to fly

and their souls
scream
in the heart of the crickets
hiding in the lawn
ignited by the fireflies

they just want to know
what those letters mean
i don't think
my words
could have created

the beautiful mind
that you have
you forgot the ***
of daffodils
that i gave you
in autumn

and by winter
their soul
had gone
until
march
next year

their flowers
hung yellow
like tissue paper
and when the breeze
stirred them
they were dragged
by wilted stems

and drew lines
in the dust
i lie still
in the morning
and watch the sunrise
creep up
my wall
to the white
of my ceiling

bathed in grey light
subdued
by unfallen rain

i wish the rays
of sun
were your eyes
moving
over me
I am suffocating.
The elephant in the room is breathing all the oxygen
and my lungs have become too weak to function anymore.
The tiles of my veins are cracked upon the impact
of your expectations falling on my shoulders.
I am no soldier.

I've been drafted into a war I didn't sign up for..
I guess this is another civil war,
and I wish, oh god I wish I could be civil
in a house with no chivalry.
It's only consequential severity
of your actions and reactions
even when you take no action at all.

I am not your verbatim bully.
You will not be the hands that turn my time.
Not anymore, not this time.
I'm done choking on the tongue
I spend my days biting.

Your words are like razor blades
calling for my wrists again.
No, not again.
No, never again.

The war will end.
I will unleash every amount of ammunition I have
onto your doorstep.
Death and me have the same address.
My wrath will end you-
and subsequently me too.
rough draft.
 Jul 2014 Katie Biesiada
amrutha
I would paint your sky a thousand colors, if I could
And inspire the restlessness in your heart;
I would give to you a million stars, if I could
If I could, I'd gift you a new start.
 Jun 2014 Katie Biesiada
amrutha
I sleep with desperate dreams, I sit in absolute darkness,
but I stand alone.
I smile in transient peace, I scream beyond the decibels,
but I weep alone.
I observe with stunning detail, I watch with the diseased world,
but I learn alone.
I wander into a sky full of stars, Along nature's beautiful walls,
but I walk alone.
Through long nursery nights he stood
By my bed unwearying,
Loomed gigantic, formless, queer,
Purring in my haunted ear
That same hideous nightmare thing,
Talking, as he lapped my blood,
In a voice cruel and flat,
Saying for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..."

That one word was all he said,
That one word through all my sleep,
In monotonous mock despair.
Nonsense may be light as air,
But there's Nonsense that can keep
Horror bristling round the head,
When a voice cruel and flat
Says for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..."

He had faded, he was gone
Years ago with Nursery Land,
When he leapt on me again
From the clank of a night train,
Overpowered me foot and head,
Lapped my blood, while on and on
The old voice cruel and flat
Says for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..."

Morphia drowsed, again I lay
In a crater by High Wood:
He was there with straddling legs,
Staring eyes as big as eggs,
Purring as he lapped my blood,
His black bulk darkening the day,
With a voice cruel and flat,
"Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..." he said, "Cat! ... Cat!..."

When I'm shot through heart and head,
And there's no choice but to die,
The last word I'll hear, no doubt,
Won't be "Charge!" or "Bomb them out!"
Nor the stretcher-bearer's cry,
"Let that body be, he's dead!"
But a voice cruel and flat
Saying for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!"
 Jun 2014 Katie Biesiada
Court
You said you loved me but I don't think you know what that means

What kind of love would leave me on the ground in your tshirt with teary eyes?
What kind of love would listen to twenty seven (
literally twenty seven) voicemails of me crying and begging you to reply and not respond to a single one?
What kind of love would kiss me today and leave me tomorrow?
What kind of love would listen to my past without the intention of being in future?
What kind of love would just let go?

You said forever but I don't think you know what that means
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