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All I leave behind is lipstick marks,
and traces of perfume--
but never do I leave my heart
or things for future doom.
The past me, before I settled down. A little Breakfast At Tiffany's esque
 Jan 2015 Aerial McAdams
Ciarra
I look beyond the horizon.
The colors of the sky mesh together,
Like I mix ***** and lemonade,
Drinking away my heartache.

I feel numb on the inside.
I pretend to be happy on the outside.
Two cigarettes and a broken heart.

The stinging sensation burns a feeling of belonging.


Just like ***** and Tears.
This is not mine. It was my best friends before he quit writing. And so I took it upon myself to put his work out there
 Jan 2015 Aerial McAdams
Ciarra
There it was,
Waiting for me.
Dangling in the middle
Of the dark basement.

It called my name.
It whispered to me,
"Fake your smile, they won't know what you've been hiding."

I slipped the letter under the door,
The sweet remedy of self destruction, and the scent of freshly braided rope.
It's tempting strands called for me.

I slip the only obstacle standing between me and freedom over my neck,
And begin my walk to freedom.

One... Two... Three.
Jump.
Words can slice and dice peoples' hearts
quicker than a knife ever will.
Words bring emotion and people will always remember how you made them feel.
Art knows no racial borders
Nor any ethnic boundaries
It doesn’t give two *****
About gender lines
Or ****** borders
Art bleeds and blends
From the deepest darkest ravines in the south
To the highest and whitest tundras of the north
It ***** with love in all of his most tender corners
And with all of her naughty spots
It flows from one gender to the next
Intermingling leaves us tingling
With the mystery and majesty of life
im a mess,
lying on my bathroom floor,
its cold
and its wet
but that fact i feel that at all
makes me stay where i am
the cold reminds me
of an hour before
but even then
i still couldn't get that off my mind
even if i were in my bed wrapped warm and whole
i would never forget
her hands in yours
pulling you down a winding path
in the other direction of the what i
thought was our home
your eyes shone with glee
raking her up and down
in that short red dress
despite the cold whipping wind
snapping at my cheeks
that were freshly streaked
with all the promises you made
all the soft touches you gave
all the long nights we shared
in what i thought was our bed
in what i thought was our home
in what i thought was true love
in our love
but i was wrong
and now
like the time before i met you
im a mess once more
its long i know but hopefully youll like it :)
Isn't a ballerina supposed to be graceful, dainty, and special?
Isn't their something gorgeous in her steps?
Even a jazz dancer has beauty,
Dance is grace,
dance is beauty,
all wrapped into movement,
I am a dancer;
I've taken ballet and jazz,
I love to dance,
but ...
I'm a dancer you can't trust around glass or fragile trinkets,
A dancer who crashes into tables and chairs,
a dancer whose very name means grace,
but when the curtains are closed and the dance has ended;
I'm the clumsiest girl you will probably ever meet.
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