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lydia May 2013
as I cling to this fragile shore
broken pieces of driftwood will surface
hollowed out by the effort of travel
and softened by the harsh truth
that when I think of you
at four in the morning
eyes tired lungs heaving
you will be asleep
unaware of the chaos your existence causes
within me
as oceans overlap the land.
lydia May 2013
your heart will not break
when it impacts your frail chest
your skeletal frame shatters
fragments upon fragments
they will litter your surrounding organs
drawing blood and aching
your skin will lose its warmth
the glow of your cheeks no longer there
every inch of your body will sob
your heart will remain whole
regardless of tragedy
it is the rest of you that will decay.
lydia May 2013
my stomach flutters
not with butterflies with shimmering translucent wings
but with damp maggots
feasting on my bitterness
and unwanted ambivalence

my hands shake
not with eagerness or excitement
but with nervous tears
a hurricane
threatening to drown me

my thighs ache
not from exercising the thought of you out of me
but from writing red verses
poetic and sad
stinging with every imprint.
lydia May 2013
the transcontinental railroads
embedded with barbed wire on my skin
I hope you travel it one day
and cut the noose around my neck
and caress my persistent demons into hibernation

before my body decomposes
into nothing but meaningless flesh
and scarred bone
I want to spend a night
beside you
in the burning of an embrace
that is your reluctant arms
and jaded smile

severing life lines
strangling your ability to breathe
suffocating yourself with tainted air
and choking on your words
you will spill
hopefully beside me.
lydia May 2013
when you look like that
you cause even the calmest waves
to become a tsunami
enveloping this skeletal city
destroying the strongest walls
drowning me in your silence
only to resuscitate me
with lips pressed against mine briefly
transcending breath
and nerve endings.

— The End —