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 Oct 2010 Michael Hatfield
HEK
Don't come over here,
flower in hand,
heart blazing on your sleeve.

All you need to know is that
I am made of sticks
left in the January snow.

For you, I will not catch alight.
Copyright Hannah Kollef 2010
The air is cleared,
status set.
You told me exactly what I knew I would hear,
what I needed to hear.
Friends,
I can do that.
I have before,
I can again.
I will admit it's going to ache for a bit,
but I can still do passing waves,
quick hugs,
and friendly smiles.
I guess I can finally start accepting
all the reasons everyone said
you were so wrong for me.
I don't need your issues,
I have my own.
I will still be a shoulder to lean on,
a ear to listen,
a mouth to speak words of encouragement.
I will still come over every weekend
for drinks and music.
I will still be there to watch you disappear in to your misery
as you pour more alcohol down your throat.
But I do owe you a thank you,
you have given me the inspiration to write again,
to create again.
You have introduced me to many talents,
and quite a few good times.
And I could never thank you enough
for showing me what your poison does to people.
And why I will never touch it again.
At least not like you do.
So it may not be the normal thing to do,
but thank you.
I know you will always be a true friend,
and I can only offer you the same in return.
My world rained today
both inside and out
as the sky became so black
with it came the doubt

No silver linings anywhere
just darkness all around
I started sinking deeper
with every drop that hit the ground

I look outside its raining still
no blue skies or end in sight
and oil lamps around me burn
casting shadows with their light

and in this murky gloom
i attempt to shed my fears
desperation loneliness
bitterness and tears

as twilight starts to beckon
the sun now out of sight
I close my eyes in search of sleep
seeking solace through the night.

— The End —