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Rose Mar 2014

Nights like these, I think. I feel weight on my shoulder, I feel almost broken but I think maybe I might be.  My fingers are so small and the days that I look at them I feel like they keep slipping away from me. MY tiny bones that make my fingers strong seem to disappear and the warmth of my chest go cold not slowly at all but all at once. My mind is feeding in all the imagines of gentle rain that was carried thought out the week. The smell of rain calms me and it makes me weak in the thoughts that seem to ease the pain. The pain seems to get weary and I seem to drown myself in sorrow and while the months pass my sleep last longer.  My words never seem to find them self’s while my mind rushes all the words into sentences that never come out of my mouth.
Rose Feb 2014
Imagine all the mistakes that were all confused signs. That precious note that you left to allow everyone to experience all the innocent knowledge that you were simply numb was found with shattered fingers that split with the scents of those promises that you broke. That precious note you left was a gun that was pointed to your mothers head while she pulled the trigger.
Rose Feb 2014
My mind is bruised for the better, it hurts and it’s sore with the thought of you.  My bones ache with the lost contact that even my lungs are fading in to the endless amount of oxygen around my body. The sugar coated words that remained engraved into my thoughts are nothing but a small sound that whimpered out of your mouth. My affection will never be silent and while your chest opens with a fresh breath of warm belief. I sit with an endless amount of useless air that runs out of my mouth.
Rose Feb 2014
Flowers remind me of you, pink and pure.
I held you so softly and hidden
No one will get to you
I thought
The deeper I realized it was not them that covered you in dirt
It was me.
Rose Feb 2014
My lips crack and the water turns red
Deep it goes
My breath is holding the morning liquor on my breath
A touch from you could only feel
Rose Feb 2014
The soft touch that hold displeasure
Yet so delicate and soft
Fingers mold in to a fist and the raw lungs you have
So many morbid thoughts cloud my thoughts
Your fingers rest on my skin
I want more.
So much more.
Rose Feb 2014
Together as one we could never face this alone
The clock ticks with the voices that yell at us all
Deeper they go and they cut
Drown in the same sorrow that held you down from the constant thought
“I’m useless.”
Playing you like a filthy pest
“I will never be happy.”
Screams and the raw imagine of the battle that was finally coming to an end.
I lost.
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