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Age nineteen,
Advantages galore,
Am I vain to think my body is beautiful?

I need not worry
For wrinkles and calories
Cannot scar me.

Cut veins and broken hearts
But why?
Even tears hide in their shed.

A fountain of youth bubbles within,
Protected by a unique marble,
Yet treated with utter recklessness.
Part One
Cold wind rushes in beneath the cracked
window that was never fixed after you threw
that rock through it in a fit of anger when you
were drafted to the war in your mind,
the one that leaves us silent for days because
your pride keeps your jaw shut tight though
we surge with energy from the tension of our
love that dances around us and teases us with
the knowledge that one day we will come around.
I leave the broken window open now so when
you return again I’ll hear the pebbles
crunching beneath your feet as you make your
way up to the door, fumbling through your
pockets looking for the keys.  You won’t need
them, you know, because I’ll meet you at the
door before you even try to open it.
I have a cold from the draft coming in through
the window.  You’ve returned from the war
but I know it’s never over.  You’ll stay here
with me until you’re drafted again.  I’ll
savor each moment with you until then.

Part Two
I bury my face in your collar bone and I hide
my tears with the sniffling cold.  I have missed
you, I always miss you.  These days I have
with you are too precious to take for granted
I know my time is limited, you always leave,
duty calls, I can’t make you stay, I gave up
trying.  You go to war, you come back again,
you come back for me but there’s always
the draft.  The one through the window, the
one for the war, the constant reminder our
minds can’t ignore.  You come back for me
you always do just like I’m always fighting
for you.  One day the war will be over and
we’ll both see the sunlight from behind the
smoke and together we can close the window.
written at two different times about the same petal that keeps coming back.
The feelings we shared might have been love but we were much too scared to ever say it. Hours were spent staring at the stars sharing our deepest secrets and late night phone calls full of laughter. My only regret was that our demise was as cliché as our time together.
found my heart in
your hands.

didn't even know
it was missing.

but I guess now
I
do.
copyright fhw, 2015
drowning apathy,
   see me cry-
   bleed me dry-
i want to kiss the sun.

choking melancholy,
   ate my heart-
   break my heart-
it still can’t feel a thing.

these ebbing tidal waves
          i ache
               i suffocate.

duct taped seams,
i’m coming apart.
was i this way before?
faded dreams
ache most in the dark.
it’s too easy to let go.

did something die inside?
     cut lifeline-
     butterflies-
or is it just asleep?

these flowing tidal waves
          i shake
               i just can’t take this.

it’s easy? no.
it’s far too hard to let go.
awaiting melodies
The blunt surface and wooden *****
Confined within impenetrable walls
However reverb dangerously.
Numbers reappeared to disorientate me.

It was the lion I sought advice from
For a dove that had been travelling with a rose
With a weight as heavy as its wings
Against the torrent of winds and sky.

I counted the time as if I were a clock.
Gently did it leave while I was not looking,
Its music turned down by long fingers
That lightly grazed the glasses
Like tracing back the steps that I at first hastened.

Never again will I see with my lashes curled by  
Its own Evening Dew.
I only pray that the silver soldier marches
Next to me with armor close to my chest
Close to my eyes so no gaze could ever penetrate.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
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