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 Dec 2013 Liam Kleinberg
Gwen
I have a friend,
One who I can trust.
She kills the pain,
And reminds me I can still feel.

I have a friend,
One who I must hide.
She is killing me,
And causes nothing but pain.

I have a friend,
One who will never leave.
No matter what I do or try,
She is here to stay.

I had a friend,
One who I thought I could trust.
I thought she killed the pain,
But she only caused more.

I had a friend,
One who I had to hide.
Now I can not hide,
The scars she caused.

I had a friend,
One who I thought would never leave.
But with time and strength,
She was no more.
Self harm, suicide, alone, friend, razor, killing
from the ground, the earth seems so far around,
climb a few rickety stairs,
you see, distance just gets shorter,
seems like the distance between us,
the chasmic, drastic drop in pressure,
floating in the air separates two mountains,
remove the pretenses,
smash the awkward in the gallbladder,
there is nothing removing one from all,
realize now, we're all so tall.
this place is just a stage,
a stance to find your feet and grab your heart,
everything we've ever done is a masterpiece,
and on this thin needle we can see miles,
but not the reason for our smiles,
empathy is wasted on those,
when you can't read your self,
so take this heart of mine,
and hold yourself tight,
because this is about to get tremulous.
I would be married, but I’d have no wife,
I would be married to a single life.
In box ghosts
In god we trust
Picture from forgotten toasts
Friendships cyclical, boom or bust

One, two, three, four
Boldface type between the junk
Plaintive missives to ignore
Memories stored within a trunk

Friends arrayed 'neath a tree
Once upon a summer's eve
Kept in touch with none of thee
With a pen we took our leave

Scattered comments, wish you were
Scattered ashes, dust to dust
Given a choice of you or her
Follow always wanderlust

Blinking cursor, monochrome screen
One truck passes on the street
Slowly passing fields of green
A moment's thought, then press delete.
Men who I wont date are better off asking other people out.
"You're a real looker!" That's what I'm told and I like that.
Long brown wavy hair falling down my back as I walk.
I get guys who come up to me wanting to touch my hair and
get a very close look to see if my face is that pretty and real.  
It's nice to be asked out by guys I like and ones I wont date.
When I'm shopping and I'm checking out clothes in size zero
I get guys coming up to me asking me if they can buy for me.
What's not to like about that being the girl who is picked first?
At dances I never sit one out I have guys falling over themselves
just because I'm a very pretty girl and there's nothing wrong in that.
Big question is if I was a plain Jane would I get guys who want to
buy me sports cars, Bahamas trips or be their sweet little sugar baby?
The wind nips at my nose,
My body shakes to the core,
My joints creek with every move.
The bullet in my arm radiates heat.
The body of my offender lies on the ground--
Still.
Cold.
Dead.
The snow is stained red
With the blood of his vile corpse.
Nothing sounds;
It's like the silence before the storm.
Then I hear a little whimper.
I see her curled up in a ball
Sitting in the hollow of a tree.
"Hey," I say gently.
"It's going to be okay now."
She flinches away from my touch.
I pinch my eyes shut painfully.
I don't blame her.
The only dad she's known,
The one who pretended to love her,
Pretended to be hers,
Is gone.
Lying on the ground
In his own puddle of blood
Because of me.
Poor little girl.
I still couldn't grasp that she was mine.
One day she'll thank me--
Hopefully.
I slowly lean against the tree
My shoulder throbs.
I fall down to the snow.
Little drops of red fall below.
I finally hear the sirens.
I wait.
It will all be over soon.
She crawls out of the hollow
She stares timidly.
I look deep into her big blue eyes.
She breaks down.
She collapses in my lap
Throws her little arms around me;
I wince at the pain.
"I'm so sorry, baby."
She weeps into my neck.
Suddenly,
I know.
I know that she is mine.
This little girl was mine
From the very beginning.
 Dec 2013 Liam Kleinberg
Jay
I wish I could speak
as if I was writing.
Why do I always
have to be so
awkward?
 Dec 2013 Liam Kleinberg
Jay
I noticed the cuts
and I saw my name
and I felt you here
as our souls caressed
one another
and our hands did the
same,
but I still can't
let you waste your
time on me.
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