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 Sep 2019 Lucas Abbott
sydney
thinking about you helps me fall asleep at night.
Love lies on the worn carpet of our lives,
bearing the weight of years of footsteps.
It supports us all without question,
never once posing impositions upon us.
We all have our own form of this love,
defined uniquely by personal experiences.

It coats us all with a fierce veil of memory,
it bears the weight of life.

Show me your love
and I'll show you mine.
I can't feel the warmth inside my chest,
of a racing heart or rapid breaths
is that bad?

The walls around me are crumbling,
they're letting in all the pain
is that bad?

I can't remember what sunshine feels like,
all I know is blood and darkness
is that bad?

The demons of my past and present,
swarm me like moths to light
is that bad?

My facade of happiness and lies,
is almost see through
is that bad?

I'm one step from oblivion,
and I want to take it  
is that bad?

Please give me an answer
because I can't hold on

**anymore
A fantasy
Is what you are
A made up existence in my early sub-conscious
Sometimes you're blonde
Other times
Hair the color of midnight
But most of the time
My fantasies end by one of us
Leaving the other
What does that say about me?
 Mar 2014 Lucas Abbott
mg
the pain
is now cutting
me
so deeply
i can't think
and i have
to be strong
for the ones
who need
me
to be strong
i have to put on this mask
a mask
with smiles
a mask that says
"No, she's happy, don't worry.
The scars on her wrists don't exist."
but frankly
i can't even breathe
or handle
this anymore.

i'm done.

m.g.
 Mar 2014 Lucas Abbott
aphrodite
You drink about it.
       You smoke about it.
              You **** about it.
                      You cut about it.
                           You sleep about it.
                                 You stopped sleeping about it
                                       You stopped eating about it.
                                            You keep eating about it.
                                                You swallow pills about it.
                                                      You punch walls about it.
                                                           You kick cans about it.
                                                             ­   You spit about it.
                                                             ­        You write about it.
                                                             ­          You cry about it.

                                                            ­            But you won't talk about it.

                                                            ­ You won't pray about it.
                                                      You won't seek help about it.
                                                 You won't reach out about it.
                                            You won't tell your father about it.
                                      You won't tell your lover about it.
                                  You won't meditate about it.
                           You won't medicate about it.
                    You won't preach about it.
             You won't advocate about it.

       You're killing yourself over it,
but perhaps it's time you start saving yourself from it.
What is your "it"?
I've bolded what I find to be healthier alternatives for coping, opposed to the common and harmful ways of coping that are italicized.
This poem is very personal & I hope you learn to cope the best way you can.
**
Need you
Serve you
Protect you
Cuz I love you
© All Rights Reserved - Dustin Matthews

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