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Marquis Hardy Feb 2017
"Why? Why do you love me so much? Why won't you just let me go?" She stared at me while wiping away her tears. I couldn't tell if she was frustrated because she was crying or if she was frustrated at me. It seemed silly to get mad at someone for loving you, but there was a fifty-fifty chance that it was happening right now.

I reached out my hand lead by the extended tip of my index, driving away the tears beading around her eyes so she could see me clearly when I said, "one day I'm going to die, and I'm going to hate myself for that because I'll no longer be able to love you. So I love you with the unrelenting fervor I bring because if I had it my way, I would never have to stop."
Marquis Hardy Aug 2016
I moved to give a toast, to you and your extravagance, and I could tell you didn't understand.
So now I'll explain just what I meant and why I am thankful that you gave me a chance.
Every day you exist with the wonder that drives you, living a life that I get to see.
So I intend to raise a toast, and with these lips take a drink, because you've always been there for me.
No matter what changes, where we move or where we go, it's no question that you'll always be there
I can't express what it means that you've been in my life creating memories that we all get to share.
So, I hope it's a bit clearer, now that I've explained, why I see you just as the person you are
Now, let's take a drink, here's a toast and a clink to you and all the memories so far.
With my 25th birthday approaching I wanted to write an ode to all of my loved ones who have always been there for me, and willingly choose to support me everyday.
Marquis Hardy Aug 2016
He made a gun out of his finger and thumb, and ****** his hand back as if representing the kickback of a pistol.
If it was just his hand then why did my white shoes become speckled red, and why did the light fleet from his eyes?
It's etched into my memory, the day it became more than a joke, the day it wasn't laughs that followed, but instead smoke.
The sick part is, I still have those shoes, they're sitting by my front door stained brown from dry blood.
I'm not sure why I kept them, maybe it's because that's all I have left of my brother.
Just a concept piece. Don't freak out.
Marquis Hardy Jul 2016
Do I think about you?
That's not really a fair question.
Yeah, things are different now, but how could I not think about you?
Have you ever known something to be so real, something you were so sure of at one point and then just forget it?
No, you haven't. I'm not sure that many people have or even understand what I'm talking about, but listen to me.
I don't remember much from before, but I remember the feeling...and apparently how I felt about you is not something that can be forgotten.
I remember what you meant to me, what you made my heart feel and I am desperately running to that feeling.
I feel like I'll never reach the point I'm trying to, but I promise you I am trying.
This feeling that I know I've felt, the one I can hardly remember is something that I want again, something that I need again.
Not with anyone though, but with you the girl I see in my head in those white sheets, under that blue comforter, on top of that lonely pink pillow.
You're like a mirage I'm praying will manifest in my reality so I no longer have to dream of you and only see a shadow.
So yes, I think about you.
Part 3 of the White Sheets.
Marquis Hardy Jul 2016
Do you think about me?
I know that things are different now, and I might just be another person to you, but I need you to understand that you are the reason that I'm here.
You are the reason that I feel strongly about anything let alone love itself.
So please, do you think about me? Is this something that still feels reachable in your head?
I think about all of the time we spent together in those white sheets under the blue comforter, and I want to cry but can't help but smile.
I can still feel the way you used to hold me, the way you used to smile at me when I sang to you.
I remember them all; I can feel them all.
It feels like I died two months ago when you got in that accident because I'm not in your head anymore, but with every heartbeat that lives without your echo I'm reminded that I'm alive and suffering without you here.
So tell me, do you think about me?
Part 2 follow up to The White Sheets.
Marquis Hardy Jul 2016
I remember the sun hitting the white sheets in the middle of the day. I was getting up to clean, and she was still lying there. The natural light poured in from the window and drowned her face forcing her eyes shut while she sang along to her favorite song. She somehow managed to dance with her whole body while she was still laying down, and I’m sure those sheets had never felt happier. I wasn’t getting much done, unless you count memorizing her movements, and the impossible way her smile was brighter than the sun. I keep trying, but I can’t remember her face; It’s just her smile. That’s the last thing I remember, I don’t know how I got here, and I honestly don’t really know where here is… Why are you crying?  

She wiped away her tears, “I-I’m sorry. I could just picture her opening her eyes and seeing you recording her every motion. I can see you standing there through the sunlight motionless and mesmerized at the sight of her lying there, dancing in the bed.”

Yes, you’re right. That’s exactly how it was. Where am I? Where is she?

She starting crying again, but this time she was sobbing uncontrollably.
"You’ve been in the hospital; You were on your way to work and you got in a car accident. You’ve been in a coma for three weeks."

What? Are you my doctor? If you’re my doctor, then why are you crying? What’s going on?

Why are you crying?
I was about to make my bed until I opened the window, and this came to my head. It's the first thing I've written in a while and I think it's okay.
Marquis Hardy Jun 2016
I'm sick of not being able to write.
I'm sick of meaningless violence in the world.
I'm sick of people needing someone to blame.
I'm sick of meaningless debates.
I'm sick of pettiness in the human race.
I'm sick of people not supporting each other.
I'm sick of people wishing others to be held back.
I'm sick of my friends dying.
I'm sick of money.
I'm sick of the presidential election.
I'm sick of these pretend Poli-sci majors.
I'm sick of humans disagreeing with each other just because they can.
I'm sick of my TV show's being cancelled.
I'm sick of negativity being the way of the world.
I'm sick of the people I love being unwilling to take a chance.
I'm sick of To Keep You Alive being unpublished.
I'm sick of being stuck on Keep Me Alive.
I'm sick of death.
I have been seriously lacking in the literary department lately so instead I decided to write about the things I am tired of.
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