Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I know I am okay with her being your second.


Because I know I will always be your first,
And your *best.
always & forever
Even though you are gone and not mine.

Oh my, my spelling, sorry..
Sun
All I've known
of love
has been bound
by duty, expectation
filaments of need

golden moments
of being
recognized
a rare flicker
in the darkness.

I sought
a nameless place
where one could
defy the laws
of gravity

held captive
simply
by the radiance
of a rising sun
between us.
It started with once a week.
"Just to calm my nerves"
Then twice a week.
"Not a big deal."
Thrice
"I'm fine"
Everyday.
Twice a day
"I'll be ok," you say "I only light up once in a while"
Since when dose  five times a day equal to once in a while?
"Im not like them" you say
But you are
Running,
Hiding,
Pushing it all away,
Just like them.
Then you stoped hiding behind the smoke.
You act happy
You pretend you're better
Fooling some, fooling yourself, but to me your crystal clear.
You're far from better
You stopped smoking.
But what of those marks?
Like rivers up your arm.
Paranoid you've become
"More" is your only care
You'll never catch the dragon
You're falling
Drowning
Dying
Outside showing your inner dread
The hunger is consuming you
Hiding it is no longer an option
Your mother is a mess, whose all alone
Your father, long dead
Friends stopped calling
So please wake up
We need you
I need you
So please
Kick this addiction
Tackle your demons
Now I'm starting to drown along side of you
I miss you, I need you
So please
Come home
I won't judge
I just want you whole again
Please...
Try again
Please...
Before we both slip away
Twenty or twenty-one. All volunteers. Barely women.
Straight from school in a thousand small towns.
Straight into the mud and blood and madness.
We dragged our dying to their open arms.
Twelve hours shifts; often more. Wreckage of violence.
Round eyes. Smiles that healed. Hearts that broke.
Girls treating boys. Telling the necessary lies.
You're OK. You're fine. You're going home.
Valor danced in their faces. Lips that spoke hope.
Old now or dead. But forever young and alive
in the memories of 150,000 wounded soldiers
they saved and sent back to the world.
   ~mce
Next page