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 Jul 2014 littlejoelle
Olivia
It's 11pm and
I still haven't eaten yet,
been drinking
alcohol and coffee
to fill my stomach.
Maybe you'll love me better
if I was prettier, skinnier,
if I just wasn't me.
Your name is in the bottom
of every bottle, your lips
are stained where my mouth
falls on this cup of coffee,
and your breath is falling
out of my cigarettes and
into my mouth.
 Jul 2014 littlejoelle
MST
Escape
 Jul 2014 littlejoelle
MST
I do not want to wake up seeing what I see,
the shivers down my spine,
the fear within my heart.
I cower at the thought of being free,
when the stars will align,
when I must play my part.
I do not know of who I will be,
will I shine,
or will I trip at the start.
I must step out this door and flee,
released from this confine,
I must make life art.
 Jul 2014 littlejoelle
m
we sat there
face to face
mouth dried
heart opened wide.
i thought i'd let you back in
but i've wasted my time
enough already.
i'd apologize, too
i guess
for being so ignorant
and selfish,
but you should be the one
to speak first
but you're not
and it angers me.

i'm angry,
you should too.
i'm sad,
you should too.
i want to say something,
you should too;
but we sat there
mouth dried.

"listen," you said.
but nothing.
just some rain tapping the window behind me.
this *****,
 Jul 2014 littlejoelle
Wide Eyes
The first line iced with hope; straight from the heart.
Melody striving to impress; the sound of a fresh start,
The world would hear the latent pain- only they listened closely.
And maybe in those happy lyrics, they would see the irony.

No, never with their minds; they only listened with their ears.
Only heard her 'happy' melody; never her unspoken fears.
Sung too many times, her chorus had lost its charm.
'Encore. Encore. It can't possibly do you any harm.'

The winds yelled cruelly, the clouds roared with fury and might.
Trials and tribulations; the universe always ready to pick a fight.
There was no exit from this world- this battlefield of horror,
Where soldiers trudged unarmed, yet unscathed never.

Nostalgia struck; breaking through her unfortified mind.
The prettiest of smiles on her lips; it was time to rewind.
There was no audience; not a soul around to stare.
Singing on the road sans inhibition, she had not a care.
A song for a life.
Love's the boy stood on the burning deck
trying to recite "The boy stood on
the burning deck." Love's the son
        stood stammering elocution
        while the poor ship in flames went down.

Love's the obstinate boy, the ship,
even the swimming sailors, who
would like a schoolroom platform, too,
        or an excuse to stay
        on deck. And love's the burning boy.
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