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Lauren Cardente Apr 2017
I.
Was the embers of the fireplace at eleven fifty four: a time, a measure, a number?,
and you couldn't fall into sleeps gripping reach as you got undressed
The cold contents of the wooded room
Impeding rest soon. Soon you rest. Soon you rest.
II.
Now you lay me down to sleep.
The earth was the eve coloured as dust.
The fire on the far side that burned like rust.
The flames that painted the rectangle bricks.
Softly muttered what song to sing?
Black smoke hushed a low simmer.
The birch crackled its warm breast for you to lean to.
While the silence had adhered to.
There is the hush of the cold and the popping of the fire,
for you, you had desires of a warm sleep.
          Two cold feet walk you to warmth in the room.

III.
Whilst all the others rested in slumber
You trusted the coal people burrowing on in they provided warmth for the numb within:
And burned away your frostbitten nose.
They chewed the pain of your frozen toes.

IV.
Illuminations swayed with shadow
you're exhausted lips had caved
For the furrowed light had lighten slumbers way

V.
The house was finally silent at six past the two, twelve hands
You had burrowed in the arms of the people of coal and you had fallen into sleep's gentle hold.

VI.
By dawn the coal people had gone away
The fire twas at at the break of day
Charcoal ashes covered your pale skin as the far side fireplace was dimmed
Your freckles peaked between the black.
Yet now
Now you sleep now you sleep, now they lay you down to sleep.
Lauren Cardente Apr 2017
Her skin is a peach and light and delectable
The bed is positioned far below
The man that stands in the shadows
Bends to the youth
He caresses the youth
His hands are soldiers that invaded her country
Her home, her property burned by the torch
Her eyes are filled with fear
And his with dictatorship
Lauren Cardente Apr 2017
Something about the way they say that they care about you so tenderly.
How they tell you they are there for you and you have them. 

You breathe in their scent and they suckle on the taste of you. 

You devour each other until there is only the flavor of each other’s personalities on your lips and theirs.
Sometimes the nectar of yourself just isn’t enough
They grow sick of the taste of you. 

And in turn you grow sickened by your own reflection.

Because you know that you are filled with such sweet nectar and you have scars branded on you back from your youth and bicycle crashes.

Whom is to say that’s not enough flavor,

So how can their sleepy eyed goodbyes and confusion define someone like you.

Someone who was carved out of red clay and carries pencils like knifes to fend off those nightmares from your childhood.

Someone who loves with every atom and shatters with every molecule.

That’s all you’re defined as a molecule, and now you’ve become split.
Just like what they did: split
Lauren Cardente Apr 2017
I.
Air is cold inside of psychiatric hospitals
As it is in any hospital really
But in psych wards there is an emphasis on feeling and the temperature dial being set low
It raises the hair on your skin straight upwards
Like a standing ovation
Like you are covered with tiny needles extending from your skin
It feels unnaturally raw
Exposed even
Like your organs have been set out onto a table
For strangers with higher degrees of education to poke at
In rather uncomfortable temperatures.

II.
Then there is the johnny
The dressing gown
Which reveals the many cuts and bruises you've got under the places that used to be clothed
Behold the surface of your body that lives in shadows
Hides.
That you starve,
And scratch,
And hate,
The people with medical degrees feel every inch of you.
Where he felt that night.
**** stop.
Then there's the needles on your skin again poking out.
A defense mechanism
You're human porcupine.

III.
It's silent as you pace towards your hospital bed
No one stirs
The window next to your bed has names and words carved in it with nails
Passing patients so eager to leave their mark
The air is still cold and you lay under thin sheets
Feeling every place where the blankets drap over your exposed skin.
So where did today go wrong
and why
Is there a pit within you
As you gulp for the chilly air?

— The End —