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 Oct 2013 Miss Rea
Showman
First there is the prep.
The roommate.
Wearing salmon colored pants.  
He has Shaggy from ****** Doo
On his left thigh.
The alcoholic.
She has a drinking problem.
She is in denial of her drinking problem.
She hangs out with the loners.
The loners.
Unkempt, unattractive and fat in all the wrong places.
The blond looks like Tom Petty.
The one with dark hair, glasses and braces
They live next door.
Living together but segregated. 
Wild cards.
All of us.

©Gambit '13
And he is...
bare feet on Sunday,
loose leaf tea,
pressed & grounded
fresh fruit
home grown vegetables,
sweat on brows,
callused hands,
cross his legs at the knee,
analytical & detailed minded.
He is the warm hug,
I seek after a long week,
He's a hug I walk into.
Wisdom flies low to rest
on his shoulders,
used to carry
and lift the weight of his dreams,

Winters baby but adopted by autumn,
He is golden hues and colors of harvest,
He begins to reap the seed he has sown,
an Indian summer day to prepare for the harshest nights of winter.
I falter,
and you tell me,
you love me,
if only to rip me apart,
to cause more confusion,
in a wayward heart.
and I sink,
I've been waving my flags,
but I cant even properly surrender.
All I know, i think ,
is that you seem like the first one to want to see me,
and Im vulnerable to the lies you seem determined to mirror.
and i know of love ,
this can't be it,
I dont know where that puts us,
I dont know where I am.
 Jul 2013 Miss Rea
LH Dillard
you were words
scribbled in beauty onto
my broken skin
your ink is bleeding through me
the stain tells me a story
it is perment
while you are not
 Jul 2013 Miss Rea
LH Dillard
It is
2:41 A.M
( I think)
I am talking
to a ghost
and I cant
quite recall
how it felt
when your
velcro lips
unravelled
my
heart
 Mar 2013 Miss Rea
EC Pollick
We loved them because
they loved to create.
A tailor and a builder.
made art from nothing.
Left a legacy.
Constructed beauty
from seemingly nothing.

Oh boys,
Our tailors and our builders,
Without you, we’d be sleeping just fine.

He blew her mind
Made her consult
With her old dear friend
Jack
(Daniels)
At hours unmentionable to civilized people.
Who indeed made her feel better
but also made her feel
Worse in the end.

He could talk real pretty things around my head
And I was hooked like a fish
It’s been 4 years and I’m still not free.
I’ve never met anyone so broken
And yet so comfortable with his millions of pieces.
He taught me to take the lenses off
And embrace this life, this love, this way.
Everything that happened before
Is over.
Tomorrow is just what we’re calling 12 hours from now
And oh, won’t those 12 hours until then
Be ******* glorious.

He molded her
Into a volcano.
The kind you see in middle school art class
That the kiln hardens
and it becomes supposedly unbreakable
Until one day, you find it has been chipped all along
[You did that to her, you know.
Broke a piece off her without even knowing it.]

Now that we’re older
they suddenly saw us
When before we were just the backing cast.
Made things that belong in the deep
Accessible to us without fishing lines
Now that’s just a cruel game to play.

It’s funny that it was
a tailor and a builder
who gave us the courage
to not need
to be built or tailored
anymore.
http://www.elizabethzito.com/#!portfolio

This is my best friend. She wrote a song  called the Tailor/Builder Song which is very dear to both of us. This is me having the courage 3 years later to adapt it to my own words.
I say thank you to the Tailor and Builder who make their debut in this poem. I hope you both are doing just fine. Because so are we.
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