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  Oct 2014 MMS
Tom Leveille
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
MMS Sep 2014
The painting you gave my mother still hangs on the living room wall.
It watches my despair blend into one color. GOLD.

Years pass and I still let my brain rot.
Shallow is liked and I've become quite fond of the ground.
Silence is no longer part of recovering anything that is whole.
I've trained my heart on all the
" How To's" , so when the attack comes I'll be familiarized with the feeling.

You always warned me about MEN, and Dear you stand corrected.
How could I have ever opposed you?
From you?

That's a question with no end.
Still my tainted spine remains haunted.
MMS Aug 2014
They say the devil is always in disguise, yet I never thought he would cross my path as my best friend.
MMS Jun 2014
There's an invisible world that I can hear.
There's an invisible world that I can see.
There's an invisible world that I can feel.

There's an invisible world.
It's my invisible world.
MMS Jun 2014
Philosophy is parked on handicap this season.

The year is 2014 -Winter went and filled my spaces with cement.
It never rained. 

Spend my days in humidity teaching the body to speak again. 

See the beauty in muted colors and it's time I open up the window for the late night summer breeze. 

Wearing my white dress I rehearse in the hot sea convincing myself it's not you I think of.
MMS Jan 2014
My belly grows with experience as antics gracefully fade. We don't take time, 
Time takes us. 

All of this with nothing left. 
Training dragons comes easy now. 
I stopped catering to demons stealing lives amongst their own.
Nurture is my nature painting walls you can't see. 

Sunday morning mass and God shook me upside down.
Dangling death while all the lice flies out. 
Thank you.
Thank you. 
My head is clean and the eye is naked. 
Champagne has never tasted this good. 

Now let me tell you where she was born. 
She arose where my eyes closed once before. 
Children hold lost keys with invisible codes. 
Sacred scribbles for notes ingrained in algorithms unknown. 
Please tell the kids science lives no more.
MMS Dec 2013
Sweat takes over my skin peeling layers of invisible masks yearning for chemical feedings. It's been days- I've been thinking slow and fragile. Bedtime has no name and it hurts. There's caution in my eyes screaming " Stay Away"! Drowning in my own body of water. "Come Clean"  he whispers.

Solace and silence. I want. ***** migraines to migrate forever. Shivers to shed as I travel back into time -not swallowing so much inside to feel OK with chemicals balancing brain beats. "Come Clean" he whispers. Flashback: I see the love of my life holding a ring on the day strange beauty died in his arms. Images creep of a little boy begging for my wake. Awake I stay.

Beginnings to a next day with no recollection. Trying to find expression in lost graphs and schedules that were once dictated by "the medicine". It made sense. Cycling back and forth through highs and lows trying to remember that God made all things. "Come clean".

In this moment I want to live only because in the next moment I'll be dead- again. I can hear the race of my heart and I want a beautiful design only because in the next moment I will come down and want nothing." Come clean".

In this moment I convince myself to skip my daily dose only because a PHD took away the nightly dose. "Come clean".

Relapse. In this moment I swallow untitled entries to close my mind from a few moments.

— The End —