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  Oct 2016 Lian
Of all the places
she sought to hide
She only found one
safe place inside
in dancing images
where the poetry
  Oct 2016 Lian
A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?

The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.

I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.

I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.

I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.

If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.
  Oct 2016 Lian
I asked your roots to grow into my flesh,
to use my veins as maps.
You let them dig into my skin,
but your hatred drew them back.
So still I stand between the their bodies, and I look east for winter's end,
I urge the dirt to drink my blood, and let the Tall Trees grow again.

Young, wicked boys, we danced through dust,
Drunk on death and mad with song.
My fading laughter showed the truth;
One pair of footsteps all along.
So still I sit with dying giants,
Their leaves will fall by end of June.
My hero's eyes burned holes in me,
I dug holes here for me and you.

The tall trees died when we were ten,
They seemed to shrink as we grew up.
We walked the forest one last time,
Just before the clear cut.
Lian Oct 2016
Be pure.
At 19 years you should still be
Brand new.
Like a white dress
With the tags still on.

White as snow
You won’t find home here.
Plain and cold.
An emptiness that could swallow you whole.

inspired by Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar
Lian Oct 2016
I shower everyday but
It is not enough
I can not be clean enough.
I need to be cleaner.
Cleaner. Cleaner. Cleaner.
I want to be clean and new
But every rinse leaves me withering
It is drying
My skin leaving me
in cracks and holes
My hair is falling out.
I do not remember the last time
I scrubbed every inch of the filth away.
It clings to me.
It has found shelter in me.
It is a part of me.
I want to be clean.
I want it gone.
I do not remember the last time I was clean.
I do not remember the last time I showered.

Lian Oct 2016
I am so thirsty.
I sip and sip
But still my throat is dry
And hot.
I feel the air growing thicker.
Or maybe thinner…
It is so hard to tell.
Why is it so hard to tell?
All I know is it is hard to breath.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe!
I feel myself letting go.
What is it that I am releasing?
What do I have to hold on to?
And I gasp and grasp at the air
Yet I will find no reassurance
And no comfort.
I am greeted with the harsh wind of truth
Which stings my cheeks and blinds me,
Shards of broken glass cutting me down.
Breaking me down.
Soon there will be nothing left.
I do not want to let go.
I want to hold on.
I want to be here.
I want. I want. I need.
I need a drink.
I sip and sip
It trickles down,
touching every inch of me.
It scorches my throat
And scalds my stomach.
It does not
Satisfy me.
I do not know why
I continue to sip
This dreadful elixir.
It is too late.
For it has already put a spell on me.

Lian Oct 2016
there are days
when I feel
overcome with feelings of missing home
as I stare at
my own ceiling in bed.

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