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 Sep 2017 morgan
L
Being real is hard
as opposed to being fake
as opposed to being bubbling plastic, mask this
look past my plausibility
soft body
teeth mouth throat
eyelashes,
heart
fake
styrofoam
empty
deserted
these eyes are what I have to offer now, these ears
If you had reached me earlier, I would've had more
to put at your disposal:
my devotion
my hands
my feet
my sanity
my presence in this day, for this conversation
my heart, soul, and chapstick
but I've said too much.
If you had reached me earlier
I swear I would've given you the rib-cage straight out of my chest  
before your lips were halfway open and asking--
I know I would've been in your veins before fall
But I can't worry about your veins now,
I've opened too many of mine
and what I'm trying to say is honey,
My heart isn't full enough for me to pour it out to you every night.
You know I wish I could
Edited on February 13, 2021
 Sep 2017 morgan
Seazy Inkwell
She wants to become a girl again,
After two divorces, three kids and
pieces of heart blended
into the uneven daily affairs.

She wishes to be innocent once more.
To see the sky through her amber eyes;
To laugh carelessly down a penniless neighborhood;
To recollect the fragrant things she holds dear.

Where is the Anne of Green Gables?
Where is the Alice in Wonderland?
Where are Jo, Meg, Beth, and Amy?
Where did the flowers go to die.

She tells me she misses all the sunrise,
Gazing into a blue sunset,
The cooking that tastes no longer loving,
The perfume that smells no longer happy,
The loneliness that is no longer heroic.

She carries on, with her broken wings,
and the birth of a woman's concrete essence.
[sister poem--1|| 8/15/17
 Sep 2017 morgan
rose
Untitled
 Sep 2017 morgan
rose
i go through boyfriends
like i go through cigarettes.
i am just another dead battery to you.
 Apr 2017 morgan
rose
3:17 a.m
 Apr 2017 morgan
rose
I am a lipstick stained cigarette
I am the bullet played in Russian Roulette
 Apr 2017 morgan
rose
 Apr 2017 morgan
rose
My love is a ****** in slow motion
until you pull the trigger.
Then it becomes an orchestra.
 Apr 2017 morgan
rose
Defense against the worthless
The mistaken
The pure
The biting of nails and procrastinating
Losing keys yet finding them in the *** of tea you’ve been meaning to put away for weeks
Never texting that one person back because you’re “too busy”
Sleeping only for twenty minutes
And waking up at 5:00 p.m
On the kitchen floor
After burning, itchy eyes
Because you couldn’t find the motivation to close them
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