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Laura Klawiter Mar 2017
That smirk when,
When he's looking at someone else
But he doesn't know you know
So you look at him and smile
Because what else can you do?

And he looks back
And says, "what?"
But fails to even notice the salty tear running down your cheek as you lie-
"nothing I'm okay"
Laura Klawiter Oct 2016
Laura Klawiter Aug 2016
I remember the times when we used to laugh
at any little thing
There was no tension, no silence
No feelings of emptiness

I remember the times when we used to smile
at any little thing
at each other, while the sun rays beat off our youthful faces
Not a worry in the world

I remember the times when we used to talk
about any little thing
all of the time
with no silences creating a barrier between us

I remember the times when we used to hold hands
for no reason at all
Your fingers wrapped gently around my delicate hands
firm and protective, strong like you were never going to let go

I remember the times when we used to kiss
passionately and longingly
Our lips intertwined
puckering for more

But mostly I remember the times when we used to love
Like no one else in the world mattered.
funny how things change
Laura Klawiter Aug 2016
we never change
we just get better at hiding our ways.
Laura Klawiter Jun 2016
I want to carry you,
Pick you up when you are down, beaten to the ground
With nothing left in you but rage, sorrow, and pain.
I want to wrap you in my arms,
Wrap you so tight,
Squeeze this melancholy out of our lives.
I want to tell you, “It’s okay”
Even though I know it’s not.

But I can’t utter these words,
They will not roll off my tongue and through my dry, cracked lips.
They are stuck, lodged, deep in my throat.
Choking me.
Failing me.
And even worse--failing you.
Laura Klawiter Jul 2015
This is the end
                 to every moment,
                 to all beauty caressed in curse,
                 to pureness soaked in effortless rain.
                 Here's to the future we rode upon,
                 to the emptiness of love we all tie ourselves to.
                 And I cry,
                 Hoping to God it means something.
It does not.
Laura Klawiter Mar 2015
The flower
Growing in front of my eyes
Astounds me
With its beauty
The petals
White as the moon
On a starless night
With the edges
Stained with a red
As dark and rich as wine
The center
A yellow
Like the sun
Hanging over a warm summer day

The flower
Stands on my lawn
As the only thing
That’s living
Its exuberant color
Bursting forth
Through the dried grass
And the graying soil
I have no idea
Where this flower came from
The fact that
The ground around it
Is caked in as normal
And seems as though
It hasn’t been overturned
In days

I think this flower
Has just appeared
Or really has always been there
Just now that I recognize
Its beauty
I feel the petals
Through my finger tips
And slowly moving
My palm onto
The main part of it
The petals
Feel like satin
Mixed with the soft skin
Of a baby
I let go of the petal
And walk into my house

From my window
As I awake
I noticed that it had snowed
And at first I am happy
But then I remember
My flower
And I arise from my bed
And run outside
The flower
Has disappeared under the cover
Of the snow
I go to where
My mighty flower
Once stood and I start to dig
To get the flower out
Hoping that no harm
Has befallen
My botanical beauty

I reach the flower
And see that it has
Wilted under
The weight of the snow
My flower
The one that
I had found
Breaking through the dullness
Has gone away
Because of the weight
Of a natural occurrence
And so I sit here
Where it once stood
And I wonder if I will ever see it again

But then I put the snow back
Into place
And I think
That the flower will return
Only this time
More beautiful than ever
Having conquered the snow
And the weight of the world
So I walk into my house
And lay back down
Thinking of the beautiful flower
That would come back to me
Sooner or later
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