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 Apr 2015 kayla morrison
Xyns
When everything comes to an end
I've thought it all through
And my most fatal mistake
Was trusting you

After all is said and done
My biggest flaw was
Believing you were *the one
 Apr 2015 kayla morrison
Gracie
don’t ever let anyone tell you
your hands aren’t the stars
your mouth isn’t the sun
your lips aren’t supernovas

don’t ever let anyone tell you
your mind isn’t cataclysmic
your thoughts can’t stop time
your actions can’t create earthquakes

because when your feet pound the pavement
when your breath comes in gasps
when you can’t stop blinking
seeing, hearing,
feeling

you are a cumulonimbus existence
of thunder and lightning

he is not your own little universe,
bottled up

you
are
the universe
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Unwanted, and unloved,

With matted fur,
Wide eyes of stone,
Once, you were beloved,

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your nose is runny and red,

Your paws are too small,
Your tail is patchy and wet,
You're too thin, but perhaps with a bit of bread..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You tried to follow me home,

My home is too small,
Money is tight and hard earned,
My heart is unwell, but I cannot simply let you roam..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You didn't care,

I was the curious thing,
The one to stop,
And scratch behind your ears, your life has never been fair..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your walk is much too slow,

Fumbling one way or the other,
Tripping over your paws,
Getting distracted by the spiders, but soon, you'll grow..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
I stopped,

And carried you home.
Silver light spills to the rocks below,
Gleaming, glittering, glistening,
Beneath the still pond water.

~

Glossed scales revel in the silver,
Rising from the water in a leaping dance,
Shimmering, sparkling, shining,
Beneath the celestial light.

~

Only to drop back,
Beneath the rippling pond water.
Stitch me up with words and ink,
Between the pages, let the black sink,
For I am a tale,
One to be told,

Lest I become human and *****.

I am fragile, hold me tight between your pages,
There, I can live for lifetimes, for the endless ages,
Cover to cover, I shall be bound,
Until the next reader comes around,

Never shall it occur to me the words are simple cages,
Lest I become human, and *****.
If you accidentally
             fall out of love,
Do you just dive
                back in head first?
           Feet first??
                     Eyes closed???
        Cannon ball????
             Or
Do you walk away
       Cause you can't swim
And you're scared to death
                   of *drowning?????
I don't know the answer and I'm not sure what I'm even asking..... Enjoy.

Comments welcomed and appreciated.  
      Thx

http://www.gofundme.com/r5wnpsd5
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THANK YOU all for any help or support.
 Apr 2015 kayla morrison
Solaces
In the summer we mixed glow stick liquid in bubble solution and had glow in the dark bubbles..  it was mesmerizing..  

As I watched the colors float all around me I begin to remember dreams I had not to long ago..

In the dream they were not bubbles floating.. They were glowing jellyfish that would flutter to the stars.. they were so ghostly and beautiful..

A strange yet welcomed deja vu filled my soul..  Its as if my dreams told me that this night would one day come.. a color filled night where the bubbles that glow bring me back all my dream memories..
Deja vu
 Apr 2015 kayla morrison
Poetic T
He was under the influence of ink,
A story wrote upon a typewriter,
Was it life he bled upon the white,
Could he change a moment, or was
All but preordained,
Mind,
Thought,
Fingers
Ever tapping like in Morse code,
Echoing out to those who never knew
That their life was a moment in
Black & white.
He would venture away, but never to far,
For life was but a button press away.
He found feathers nestled upon finished
Ink, a *** holding these reminders of how
Old Ink was.
He had tried a quill, but to no oval,
The typewriter was
His speech,
His voice,
Their moments
Captured like a photo, stillness in its frame.
But his pictures where words,
He was a writer of life's outside his own,
Some place he was never meant to see,
But he was their in his place.
Another chapter written for those living his
Words, he knew what was, yet by them unlived,
He was a guy with a typewriter
Who thought their moments out, lived and yet to be *lived.
 Jan 2015 kayla morrison
Adele
You used to be a lovely daffodil that blooms in May, but now you're just a withered flower in a winter day.*

a.k
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