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 Jun 2017 liz
Sierra Primus
 Jun 2017 liz
Sierra Primus
Sometimes I want to curl up and cry.
This is one of those times.

I don't always know why
Maybe there isn't a "why".
Maybe my body just needs to feel an emotion.
Any emotion.
Maybe the sadness is just residual.
From past disappointments
Past grievances
Past conversations
Or just the past in general.

Sometimes I need to reset.
This is one of those times.
 Jun 2017 liz
Sierra Primus
Last night we screamed.
You broke things,
I ran.

This morning we hugged.
You apologized and I could tell that you meant it this time
because you cried and you begged me to stay
and you cried.

That's how it works, right?
People cry when they mean things?
Or has every day just been practice
and last night only the dress rehearsal
leading up to your main act right here
kneeling in front of me
on a tile floor glued together by lies
and a carpet woven by false love.

And I know that I should pay more attention
to the man behind the curtain
but right now, in this moment, I forget.
I forget the thunderstorm in your voice
I forget the earthquake in your fist
and the volcano in your eyes.

I forget the fear that made me sleep in my car
I forget the sadness that made me want to end my life
I forget the manipulation that made me think it was all my fault.
Because in this moment, none of it matters.

Because people cry when they mean things.

 Sep 2016 liz
Hong Denice
Love is of God; lust is from the world

Love is selfless; lust is selfish

Love can wait; lust is got to have it now

Love is giving; lust is taking

Love is purity; lust is sin

Love develops; lust destroys

Love is peaceful
Lust is full of anxiety

-Charles Stanley
 Aug 2016 liz
I'm incomplete
Like the way
A puzzle is
When it has lost
Even just one piece.

I'm incomplete
Like the way
A mistaken letter
Changes the crossword

I don't think
I'd ever be complete
Even with just one
Missing in my life:
 Jul 2016 liz
Sierra Primus
My body aches.
It aches for your touch,
Your lips on my neck
Your hands on my hips,
Your chest against my chest.

My body aches
To feel your breath on my skin
To feel you pulling me closer
To feel your hands in my hair,
Your heartbeat in sync with mine.

I miss your voice;
Your touch, your smell.
I miss your rough hands
And your soft touch.

I long to trace your scars
To memorize your imperfections and
To be the reason you want to be better.
I want you to want me like I want you.
 Jul 2016 liz
Sierra Primus
A new car without a horn
An old dress that was never worn.

A book with no pages
A year without ages.

A pen with no ink
The sunset without pink.

Love with no hearts
A play with no parts.

A desert without dunes
A night with no moons.
 Jul 2016 liz
 Jul 2016 liz
i'm mad at myself
for not changing to who i should be.

i'm mad at myself
for trusting people
whenever they say "trust me".

i'm mad at myself
for bleeding
when people stab my back
with their deceiving knives.

i'm mad at myself
for hiding my feelings
for pushing people away
when i needed them the most.

i'm mad at myself
for not being me
i changed a lot
i don't even know what's real.

i'm mad at myself
for being heartless
i used to be so sensitive
but i just cannot feel any less.
i know i'm not the only one, but this hurts.
 Jul 2016 liz
Jacobe Loman
Warm cords striking the piano gently.
My feelings accept isolation.
I agree with the unpopular opinion.
These thoughts; a cognitive dissonance.

All of this could be a consequence.
A superstition of intemperament.
I cannot recognize anything.
It feels like one big elaborate dream.

Through the static I feel the presence.
Eerie notes block my judgement.
I feel sympathy for something that doesn't exist.
My mind's eye feeling out of tune.

Tears from my forehead trickle down.
Single keys punctuate the atmosphere justly.
Everything in my heart becomes blind.
With the pianist caress; it becomes empty.
A warm place stuck in time.
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