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gracie Dec 2018
life takes one off guard.
like standing behind a wall made of dark stone,
living as prey waiting to be tackled by its predator.
i’m an innocent song bird with honeycomb bones,
and you are the green eyed tabby cat about to pounce.
your claws rip out my feathers and the pain feels like boiling water running through my veins.
my wings are wilted and i cannot see to peck at your soft eyes.
you pierce your fangs into my neck and take me home to sit me on the doorstep.
my blood is diseased and i’m tossed in the road with hands clad in blue gloves.
you, the tabby cat, lick your paws clean of my filth and hunt for another.
my sisters and brothers all sit in the branches along the trees waiting to hear my song.
but, my song is crushed beneath a set of wheels and my remains are scattered before the doorstep i was once laid upon.
the maggots infest my brain and it’s almost as if i can feel their microscopic teeth.
but, this isn’t me.
this isn’t who i want to be.
a maggot infested game.
the prey for a predator,
slain on red brick steps.
gracie Oct 2018
brown, blue, and green-eyed boys
kiss my cheek and call me
pretty.

my hands tremble in their soft hair,
their arms around me.

someone else,
a new face,
but i am the same.

all it takes to believe that i am
beautiful,
is for one brown eyed girl
to love me.

she is so far away,
i reach for her.

i can feel her warmth in my bed,
hear her footsteps behind me.

she lurks,
and glares from within me.

"love me," i cry,
a faint sadness in my breaking voice.
"love me just this time."
i mean..........okay
gracie Oct 2018
the slow build up of piano
plays on the radio,
you sing along in your tenor voice.

your big hand is in mine,
resting on my lap.

the road outstretched before us, under the ten o’clock moon.

i have a few drinks in me,
but that doesn’t mean anything.

i never thought i could truly love again,
then i met you.
sometimes things happen fast but i can catch up
gracie Sep 2018
so sorry to **** your wanderlust.

so sorry i came into your life
and made you love me.

so sorry i killed your pride,
your time.

so sorry i killed your dreams,
and told you i loved you.

so sorry that you said
you loved me too.

now there's a face looking in my window
telling me who not to be.

how dare YOU
try to tell me
it was all a mistake.

you wanted to go
to the unknowns with you,
but i insisted to come along too.

but i killed your wanderlust.

and to say what i feel,
is that i am not so sorry.

i would embrace the cold for you.
i wrote this when i was crossfaded and heartbroken, imagine that.
gracie Sep 2018
it's funny
how quickly you can be discarded
when something better comes along.

deep down you know it's your fault,
but you decide to pity yourself.

you flip through their photos;
smiling faces gleam back at you.
"why wasn't i invited?"
that small and jealous child
that lives in my mind whines at me.

this child quickly becomes a glooming figure.
a figure of some black fog
that seeps through my veins
and swallows me whole.

this is the autobiography of a second choice.

the choice they forgot about.
the choice they see
when all the smoke is clear,
and one sad, sullen apparition awaits;
wanting to be chosen.

with my head down,
and my hopes high,
i walk with them.
  Sep 2018 gracie
sarah
late at night, i lie awake
thinking of things i should have said
all the mistakes i've made
and signs i should've read

then think about what i can't live without
you, front and center in my mind
sometimes it feels like halfway love
almost, but not quite

still, parts of you make me whole
who i am and who i need to be
i think of love letters that weren't torn up
feelings of blue and green

when i'm without you
blank page, artless innocence
i realize how dependent i've grown to you
and feel the need to create a distance

sometimes i look up at the purple sky
and wonder if you're looking too
i gaze at the colors and the beauty of it all
though its beauty would never compare to you
gracie Sep 2018
i’ve never considered myself a woman.

until i was in bed with a man
i had only met that day.

“you are a beautiful woman,” he says to me.

how dare he?

how dare he call me a woman before i’ve called myself one?
just a short thought i had recently
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