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Everyone you have lost is gone forever.  
If you try to call the dead, the phone won’t ring.
You won’t hear their voices.
The ground will shake like your wrists.
You will realize this sometime, when you’re in the bath and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to put your head under and count to a thousand.
You are more than a suicide note.
You are more than a suicide attempt.
You are more than cuts and bruises, and friends that abandon you and don’t even say hello in the hallways anymore.
People will leave you, daughter. People will leave you alone and shaking.
You’ll find solace in the most unexpected places, in the boys that look like they belong in the 1970s and in the vinyl that whispers to you while the sun is going down.
Eventually you will find the people that will bend the sky down to you so that you can touch the clouds.
They will become your motivation, they will become the glow in the dark stars on your bedroom ceiling.
You will forget that they are plastic, and often mistake them for the night’s sky.
Memories do not always hurt, it’s okay to be nostalgic but do not drown in it.
Do not drown in anything but love, daughter.
Love every leaf, every lover’s vein.
And every single time you think you’re going insane.
You’re not.
Remember that the door is always closed, but always easily opened.
Remember that you can leave.
Remember that you can take the next flight out, start a new life.
Remember that the world is in your piano hands.
You’ll meet someone and call them love because they don’t know the difference between the dull and sharp edge of a knife.
You’ll write poems.
Lots of them.
You’ll write enough poems to fill the walls in all of the rooms in all of the houses you have ever lived in.
You’ll scrawl them on the tree stumps you find temporary homes in while walking in the forest.
You’ll engrave them on someone’s bones after they tell you that they would rather die a thousand deaths than go a second without your energy warming their cheeks.
For every accomplishment, erase five shortcomings from your mind.
Be yourself before you forget who that is.
Be, daughter, be who you want to be;
Be who you know yourself to be.
When the world is sleeping on your shoulders at 4 in the morning, don’t wake it up.  
Take a deep breath, rock the earth into a deeper sleep.
Tell the walls your secrets because they don’t whisper.
Don’t tell anyone with a tongue something you wouldn’t want to end up floating back out of their mouths like a catchy song.
When you’re standing up on stage, waiting to start your poem, do not avoid eye contact.
Make everyone nervous with your metaphors.
Make everyone nervous with your passion.
You are the strongest soul you’ll ever be.
And when I die, shall we not meet again,
Remember that I am your mother, daughter.
And mothers, *always know best.
this is for my writer's craft class
Fall in love with my flaws, my imperfections
Fall in love with my scars, my freckles
Fall in love with my stories, my weirdness
And fall in love with my laugh,
My smile, my eyes,
And the way I say goodbye
 Oct 2013 Monique Olivier
Jay
Baby,
You love me
In a way so unimaginable
Your kiss takes me to places
I could never even dream of
Because when I dream all I see is me
Beside you
God, I yearn for your love
In a fiendish way; you are my drug
And I suffer without my dose
Of you, my muse
My queen of all things pretty
Prance on my heart
Why don't you dance and
Play and after your long day just
Kick your feet up and stay awhile
Get acquainted with the space I paved
For you to lay inside me
I won't evict you, in fact I'll put up bars
And imprison you, so you can never leave
You see, without you I'm just not me
You're that extra piece to make me complete
And if I leave you be, there's nothing left
I will love you so hard it will bleed from you
I swear there's nothing I need from you
But the love you give to continue as strong
I will never do you wrong
If you just love me
Unconditionally
I cannot see the day you say "it's through"
Because that's the day I say "me too"
So goodnight to the love we had
Now shed
And...
-POW-
My hearts a fickle thing,
Jumping to voracious dreams.

But i feel its beating in every cell i am made of,
As i remember the ghostly embodiment,
Of promises, heavy lids, feather soft touches, and kisses that crawl inside you and live in the empty spaces,
In my sleepy wondering,
Where you always find me.
i leave pieces of you where ever i go.
you are my foot prints, you are my shadow.

i still feel you in my chest,
you can still steal my breath.
gather up the things you lust to love
and become the world's loneliest human
just for a night
in a room with blue lights
where so many others have once slept
as simple cloud sheep
when the eyelashes filled themselves with hypnagogia
late late late at night
ad slowly poured (and poured, and poured)
somnolent paint onto the walls
which fainted and licked the floors
rabbit and ft
Young was old, When old was young , But strange words travel by tongue.One day, Old grew out to shame Young's death grew out to shame.Young's death grew to fame.To fame a short poem can tell so much like how young and old still do touch. Silly poems! Young's dead and OLD'S old, Cut out the heart in the cold-THE COLD! What wil old years bring and bring?? We can't ask young; Deaths the thing
Its kind of a riddle mixed in with a poem
 Oct 2013 Monique Olivier
Paige
Starry nights and grey clouds
Warm blankets on the ground
I lie here,
The wind dusting over my soft face,
Hearing the Earth's heartbeat,
As I close my eyes,
And drift to Mother Nature's paradise.
But still this emptiness
Twists inside my stomach.
It reaches down all the way to my toes.
This beauty, wonderful beauty,
Is too gracious to share all alone.
I slightly grin
And lightly touch the grass on the tips of my fingers,
How I wish to share this beauty.
We could hear her heart rate pace like bongos,
*** pumpum, *** pumpum, *** pumpum,
A gentle and muted sound.
How the wind sings and dances around us,
who even gets the leaves to dance.
The flowers hold hands and wait
for the moon to rise, before they drift to sleep.
Starry nights and grey clouds
Warm blankets on the ground.
I lie here,
How I wish to share this beauty.
I thought of this during SATs. I love walking on green fields and looking at the sky. Whenever I walked from the cinema to my house, with my cousin, we would pass my old school's baseball field and stare at the open sky. I wish I could sit with someone and talk about senseless things and enjoy the nature God gave us.
 Oct 2013 Monique Olivier
M Ellis
Comfort is your worst enemy
Don’t fall in love with security
Fall in love with the realization that nothing is forever
and as a result we must love in each individual moment
fall in love with each moment that hallows your existence
with each touch that awakens your senses
with each articulation that questions your existence
with every moment that makes you come alive
for God’s sake love with every fiber of your being
not because it offers you a sense of comfort
but because it simply offers you a moment in this brief reality
to feel.
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