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 Feb 2013 Miss Rea
Makiya
the impression of everything
finally fit into the impression left by the first (as it always does) but

it was only the shallow end, and wonder goes
deeper, at least to the 6ft that goes over my head
(as it always does) and now

I am chopped into several different
pieces like the syllables in a word -- you've gotta
            
              sound
    
                me
            
               out!


you've gotta get me out
of the brain to the tongue to your
lips and teeth -- so sweet! the satisfying end to
one
big
word,



isn't it?
 Feb 2013 Miss Rea
EC Pollick
I reach up
touch my face
I just feel two pockets of dimples
and warm skin.
I gave some of that little fire to you one day and together,
we blew up everything we knew.

It was one of those inconsequential disasters.
Because it was never supposed to happen
But
It did.

I can still feel the burns.

We can’t undo that Nagasaki.

All I want is the one who knows me.
All I want is my little fire returned to me.
prelude
5 pages were blank the 6th written on...  
you wrote:                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                        *I love you.


You said that you didn't want to change are friendship
but you didn't think you could hide it anymore.
it was a summer night you held my hand,
you lead me to the tent you pitched in your back yard,
and i thought i could lay there, hidden in a tent with your arms wrapped around my waist,
but i wanted you to prove it,
maybe i just wanted to feel it,
you said, "ashley, breathe"
and your fingers found a way to cradle my head,
and to pull down the wall i peek through,
and your pink lips touched mine,
and i wonder sometimes if you would do it now,
how would i react or would i have set sail south
for you were always being kissed by the sun,
and I don't talk about it,
no body knows the places we traveled to,

And I find it here in the ashes,
as I’d follow your down to the earth,
I’d hear your breath, I feel the dirt,
and mosquito lands on me,
your lips met mine,
and I replay it over and over time.
And time is what I have given you.

i wanna tell someone about you,
the ghost of my summer girl,
always finds me sipping on the melancholy,
and dancing with the devils of chaos and confusion,

we don't talk.
we don't speak.
i wonder if you still seek for things you'd have to sneak,
in a tent in your own back yard.

i can't talk about you,
they haven't been around to listen,
but i still think of you.

And if we’d go back there and I couldn’t change this separation,
I know though the places I would have traveled,
I wear the skirts,
you fold the sheets,
and I miss the hands holding my waist.

you call it love and it’s become my torture.
"Sloths!",

she squawked,

almost incoherently,

I'd just took a sip of my tea.

"To most, they remain a mystery".

The remark remained a mystery to me.
 Jan 2013 Miss Rea
EC Pollick
I love the stories
that make the world what it is.
When Peter looked at Wendy
and even considered
Growing up for her
Well.
That was love.
And I wanted it.

I’ve always known
Our love was NOT a classic novel.
It was a short story.
And a **** good one.
I’ll read it over and over again
until I’m old and grey.

However, he is but a chapter in my life.
The exciting love interest
Who you sort of root for
because that love is so beautiful in the moment
But when someone else comes along
You like him better
Because he’s so genuine and loyal
You just wish he wasn’t a piece a fiction
So that you could have him.

I think maybe
We’re supposed to have the fireworks
(Ephemeral as they are)
So we understand how wonderful
Having the actual fire is.
I think the reason young girls have misconceptions about love are because of fairy tales and Taylor Swift.
 Jan 2013 Miss Rea
EC Pollick
It may sound harsh
But it’s true.
I can’t divorce the word
“Disappointing”
Anytime I hear your name.

When my phone t9’s what I really want to say
into your name
It’s like a slap in the face
And I can still feel the sting
hours later.

When I run into you
On the streets
I wish It would be
like how I imagine it:
Where the empowered heroine
(that’s me)
Gives a look so piercing
It makes him shiver
And wallow in rebuke and despair.

Instead
I freeze up
Deer in headlights
Shocked and bewildered and delighted and horrified
All at the same time.

After all the **** you put me through
You can still do that to me.
It’s like magnetism or The Force
Or magical forces unexplained
And I stumble awkwardly
To get away.

My life is not a movie
And I am no heroine.
But at least
my name
Isn’t synonymous
with disappointment.
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