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1.1k · May 2013
Sweet Similarity
Lydia Ann May 2013
Soft, speckled nose gone dry with sleep, tonight
I wake her up to stroke her fur lined back
A growl escapes to my surprise; what fright!
Now ears drawn back, prepare for an attack
Instead, she escapes, darting through the door.
Not to be overlooked are her sweet paws
Pattering across the cold, kitchen floor
She makes a show of them, extending claws
Her tongue catches a taste of droplets left
From early morning, in her deep blue bowl.
Like me, she finds quiet… sometimes bereft
In this house with creaky floors, not quite whole
I lean my head against her sunken spine
And listen to her heart keep time, like mine
939 · Oct 2013
Faded in the streetlights
Lydia Ann Oct 2013
The light in your bedroom keeps me company
Though it makes me wish you'd disappear
Because I don't think you deserve my sadness,
And yet I give it to you anyway - everyday
Handpicked and wrapped up with a sort of pleading desperation
A "please take me back there, sitting on your front step with sweet consolidation"
But we don't go there anymore,
And so the light in your bedroom keeps me company,
And at nighttime I wish I'd disappear
853 · May 2013
The treetops are a guise
Lydia Ann May 2013
The treetops are a guise
And we forget that there is more beyond them
A cushioned bed of life beneath

We pass by,
Admire the seasonal effect their leaves have taken
Stare until the leaves are shaken
We devalue this quiet force
Then turn away when their depths are revealed
It is the places between ourselves and our source,
That we have sealed
851 · Jun 2013
Roof poem
Lydia Ann Jun 2013
Roof-tops cannot see me
There are no windows there for curious eyes to peer through
And so I sit
With my dressing gown open
Slouching off each shoulder
Piled up in the crooks of my elbows

The street crawls into view
As I lean back to cool my skin on the wall
I hear a car approaching
But it approaches lazily
So I linger for a moment
Skin singing with the sudden chill tickling

Tiny yellow flowers
Across a driveway unknown to me
Call out to the sun
Confusing her for their mother
But the sun has gone now
Leaving pools of darkness under each needle in the pine trees
And sending shivers dancing across my bare back
Up my shoulders
831 · May 2013
Dear Companion,
Lydia Ann May 2013
A friend I am not
I do not know how to mask desire with faithfulness
To falsely turn my cheek for the sake of another

No friends have I sought
But only intricate details of a lover
Held up in brilliant contrast to the sun
Until their affections I have won
Which subdue me for a while or so
But a friend I am not, so off they must go

As sidewalks are laced with tiny delicacy in blue
They say to me, 'I will not forget you'
But what is forgotten, if remembered without meaning?
Ah, and the blue laced flowers waver, unsure
As if to remember is to abhor
Lydia Ann Jun 2013
In case I someday claim thee
Wait upon the farthest etching of stone into ocean
In case my sickened frame drags itself through grit and sea-spray
For I may find myself in palms of flesh torn from dragging this carcass across peaking cliffs and shards of sea-glass

*Wait there, but do not call out
683 · May 2013
Eradication
Lydia Ann May 2013
We created a world of false accusation
Love soon became only partial remission
You took my freewill, as well as my vision
In return I gave my utmost provision
Of hasty provocation
And less than mindful incision
Into your every thought, and each passing decision
I often sat down, but for once I had risen
Asked, "Why are we crawling on the floors of this prison?"

Could not stand one more night under your supervision
There was no longer room for revise and revision
And life doesn't offer any hefty commission
For complying to someone - always asking permission

Our twisted sheets became more like a distasteful collision
Fingers tense as they ached for division
While nails dug deep with careful precision
Yes, sometimes we held hands
And sometimes we held our tongues
Gone quiet with desperate premonition
659 · Sep 2013
Loneliness
Lydia Ann Sep 2013
The days each filled with emptiness,
and that was all I got.
I locked myself away and hid,
then my heart began to rot.

I thought I'd clear away the dark
If I kept my mind racing.
So I filled my head with thoughts of others
And built up a strong casing.

When these things each fell away,
The darkness did come back.
And now I spend each night, here feeling
Like this is a heart attack.
577 · May 2013
Theodore of the Atlantic
Lydia Ann May 2013
Oh, Theodore
Take me to the shore
Of where I used to play

I want the gravel, and the stone wave
With the sign that read,
'Children, don't misbehave'

Foggy afternoon, you'll set sail
And when you do,
Don't you lose that red ball cap

Imagine that,
Imagine something more
Than just a photograph

Briny sea breath
Rolling off the cove,
Into the cracks of the car window

Heavy highway left behind
For small back roads,
And hidden groves

Where by itself,
A salty breeze blows
459 · May 2013
You are the thrill
Lydia Ann May 2013
You are the thrill of poison upon the page.
Both the page and the toxin you are
No threat to glance at,
Or study – limited by the eye.
The hush-hush of your ruffling pages
Does no more but to entice me
Such enticement – until I run my fingers down your spine.
The fleshy tips seek out their sustenance,
And find it playing amidst the looping, lulling letters.
Ah! But the letters nip at the tips
The hellish ink seems drawn to the pores,
And embeds itself between each spiraled peak and valley

I see it now
Your black ink stood out too harshly,
Against your ivory page.
Where now, will these poisoned words take you,
Now that they have left me so defeated,
Fingers curled tightly?
Lydia Ann May 2013
You are not to be placed on a shelf
Though your hands are dusty,
There is a feeling they may tell

Oh porcelain beauty,
You have sought your own hell
Which you carry with you softly,
Yes I swear that's how you fell
Lydia Ann Oct 2013
I wish you hadn't grown up here
Then I wouldn't have to hear you come and go
If you weren't here I wouldn't have to feel this way

It isn't anything that you're doing
You don't do anything
*you don't do anything
339 · Oct 2013
Oops
Lydia Ann Oct 2013
I gave you everything,
Then I forgot to take it back
When I left.
*Oops
332 · Oct 2013
Untitled
Lydia Ann Oct 2013
My skin sought the company of hers
Finger tips brushed against my bony wrist
I almost tasted her lips
When she spoke of journeys downwards
Into caves that hide the darkest intentions

Her fingers laced atop her bobbing knee
- she's impatient to speak -
While I'm eager to listen
If only to pretend that each word that touches her mouth was my lips pressed firmly
330 · Jun 2013
Untitled
Lydia Ann Jun 2013
It seems my consciousness is a collection
Of those who surround me, with careful selection
A bit from him, a piece from her
Not much more
Are they made up from me?
Am I a fragment of their reality?
314 · Oct 2013
Untitled
Lydia Ann Oct 2013
I've found where I belong
It's by myself

I can't get too comfortable
'Cause that's when I go

What will I have left then,
If I leave when I'm already alone?
297 · Jun 2013
Untitled
Lydia Ann Jun 2013
The moonlight is welcome on my bedroom walls
So long as it leaves the corners dusty with shadow
259 · Sep 2013
Untitled
Lydia Ann Sep 2013
I dream of ghosts,
But the nighttime mends me.
In the morning, sunlight casts the shadows back under the bed.
Yet what do I do with the ones in my head?

— The End —