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 May 2012 Megan Hundley
I tried to write you a rhythm,
I tried to write you a song,
I tried to write you a poem
About how much I’d loved you all along.

But I can’t find the words that describe you,
My mind is buzzing and numb.
The words do not rhyme and that’s not you,
It’s me, I just can’t find the one.

I feel ill and so constantly haunted,
by thoughts and not by your soul,
To see you again would be wanted,
to see you back when you were whole.

So all I can say is I miss you,
that I never managed to hide,
I said that I’d see you in heaven,
and about that I never lied.
 May 2012 Megan Hundley
Pen Lux
I will be recording human interaction
with an open mind and a type writer.
         I'll write it down in pen
         like we used to when we were kids
and didn't have our own computer (yet),
         or using your mothers to play video games
when you were supposed to be doing your homework.
         somehow achieving straight A's just in time for
                                                                                         I watched you
shoot yourself in the foot
with talking to me                                                         (under black lights)
with the same: some-don't-understand-me look on your face,
with eyes that scream  
(just like all the others)     "Pity me."                              
                                           "Forget about me."
                                                   "Just hold me one more time
so I can remember what true love feels like."

on another note: is it wrong that I daydream about us robbing banks together?
critique is always appreciated.
 May 2012 Megan Hundley
Pen Lux
woke up back to back with another piece of myself and
tried to absorb dreams through his sleeping.
these attempts proved how useless a lot of what led to this moment were.
I’m clean, and in the dregs of my suffering heart,
playing my strings, smacking my keys, snapping with rings
of bruises. grease stains on my skin.
he was good *** in the moonlight
but he didn’t bring me the pleasure I so often seek.
“If I can’t find love with you, I’ll find it somewhere else.”
he’s a tangled leg, a darkened face
a mirrored mask.
I see him in the colors he avoids
in his search for solitude.
now it’s my turn.
and I’m going to bend.
 May 2012 Megan Hundley
hi sweetheart -
i just have a few things to tell you
(this won't take long).
first, my shirt
smells of you
because you held me like more-than-friends.
second, i smile for you
because i heard you say "i love you" when i left today
(even though i didn't hear you til i was halfway home).
third, i am happier than i've ever been
because you are something good, finally
and right, finally,
and you make me feel a whole list of ridiculous things:
5 years old, for one thing.
pretty, for another.
off-the-wall and utterly zany, which i always am,
but in a different way
with you.
light-everything -
funny and sweet and teasing and teased.
there are more things,
things i do not know the names for,
and which anyway i'm not sure i could say in a poem,
or anywhere else.
my best friend,
who sat patiently through all the ******* and the *******,
the not-worth-my-times and the he's-not-as-interested-in-you-as-you-think,
who listened to me rant like it's my job,
cry like it's my hobby,
and laugh like i'm on narcotics,
are the best
so one last thing:
i want you to know
(i'm telling you right now)
if you ask me
(and i know
you'll ask me)
don't you dare be scared out of your mind,
like i would be,
and don't you dare pretend not to be,
like you would,
i'm going
to say

I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air—
Between the Heaves of Storm—

The Eyes around—had wrung them dry—
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset—when the King
Be witnessed—in the Room—

I willed my Keepsakes—Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable—and then it was
There interposed a Fly—

With Blue—uncertain stumbling Buzz—
Between the light—and me—
And then the Windows failed—and then
I could not see to see—
 Apr 2012 Megan Hundley
Pen Lux
your friends can see themselves in you.
acoustic verses make me want to puke.
hearing them
in a fraction of exactly what    
                                               you said to me. It looks like
in it's finest form.
 Apr 2012 Megan Hundley
Pen Lux
noiseless surprises.
I was laughing by myself
right in front of you.

how have I become so alone?

slip tip drip
you make me feel
wrong for being sweet
like I'm too much
and not enough
at the same time.
 Apr 2012 Megan Hundley
Pen Lux
black coffee walks alone
closed eyes, avoiding signs
holding love in back pockets
cracking open pens, drink ink
blink: sunlight! it's blinding,
and alright, but I much perfer
                so many calls that make me
feel small. I don't know what to say,
so I hang up, and hang myself in the
backyard to dry, afraid you might catch
my scent, and run away.
                                        you taste like
flowers, feel the way my lungs do when
it's hard to breathe, feel the way my ears
do when I struggle to hear the mumbled
mess of what you wouldn't dare say straight
              I saw you coming, felt you coming,
lost you, lost myself, removed the sheets,
found someone else. To remove myself,
you hoped, I hope it helped.
                                             bagged in plastic
styrafoam cups, luke warm, but you're warmer.
a charmer, heart farmer.
                                        Welcome home, please
make sure if you leave, it's somewhere better.
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