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michelle reicks Oct 2011
kissing the paws of
               a wounded teddy bear

          
          I know this is hard
                           for him, too.


                 We both miss

It's easy to miss
It's the hardest to miss


             you
michelle reicks Oct 2011
When you got out of your
car, eyes exhausted and
red from crying the whole
way home,

                     were you thinking of me?




I was thinking of you.
michelle reicks Oct 2011
minnesota grasses
grow to fifty feet tall
the sun shrinking behind them
the colour of birth
and souls

and as it disappears,
I travel,
grow
closer and
closer to the man

I have been thousands of miles
away from
these past four days (felt like years and months and loneliness unending)
this ****** bus driver with the
bald spot on his head

is only driving 68 miles
                    
                                 per
                                    
                                    hour..


I could be running faster.

                                into your arms
michelle reicks Oct 2011
While daydreaming
during my morning
ritual,
           scars aching from
the hot water on my
skin,
         Make-up runs into
my hair
                 my fingertips
start to crinkle
like my eyes used to
                                       whenever our lips met.

I look down on my left
       breast
                    and see a
                    dark brown
                    eyelash
                   resting there
                    it is not mine.

It has a new meaning now.

I pick it off,  blow
it off my finger

I do not make a wish.
michelle reicks Oct 2011
I want to hear you
whistling yourself through
my door

I want to wrap my
legs in your legs

I know that I'm
only sad
        it will get better

but right now

           it feels like

this pain
                 might

    *drown me
michelle reicks Oct 2011
This is it.
       I am leaving this
dark-holed up smelly bedroom
that does nothing for
me but give me a place
to sleep.

            And I wake up
and step out of my old ***** bed
        (sheets covered in
your       ***** sweat&tears;)

and I step softly
down the hallway


to the room with the hard tiled floor (chilling my toes )

and into the shower

to begin the process

of washing you out

of me
michelle reicks Oct 2011
Dear [god]
                       my weeks of
un ending       numb
   nothing numb

and now.          A
               kind of hurt
that
I needed so
      badly,
                  forcing me
to     feel
                  the things

I couldn't
                  when I
had someone

                     I have no one

And I wonder how that makes you feel

         But I'll probably never know,


now
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