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  Feb 2015 Nicole Hammond
Bella
maybe you spent too many days in the woods where the quiet lives maybe you never really got along with humans maybe you felt too many branches growing apart inside of you because your skin never sat right on your limbs and with tiny little silver saws you cut yourself open trying to find the pretty amber parts everyone said they saw but in the end it was just red sap and ants and rot and nothing more at all.
  Feb 2015 Nicole Hammond
EJ Aghassi
the obvious tragedy
torment me torment me
light rain to torrent
puddle to sea
it lines up so
perfectly

these are just some
lines in place of those
I'd rather have led
up my nose
or is it lead?
oh well, who knows
there's sun draping
the flowers that grow

that is what should be
the focus now, those
flowers literally
let it resound
they reach pretty finger
into the ground
embrace the earth
let it resound

the goal is to rise far
above, the putrid petty
pushes and shoves
a pitying glance from
the woman you love
your pride, starved for
romance, worn like
a glove

it's reachable in some
context, though those
roads aren't
illuminated yet
but they lay still
tread-able and you
have able step
light your own way
illuminate yet

it's hard to convey
the meaning, of
this whole mess
feelings and things
I myself don't know
what good it brings
this whole mess
feelings and things
drunk among other things
Nicole Hammond Feb 2015
I am waiting
for the day
you come and find me
here
giving me all
the love you have
withheld
and I will show you
the depths of my heart
I will meet you in the abyss
I will not be half hearted
no
no more
you will teach me
why my heart
felt so heavy
waiting for you
in you I will see
every reason I could not love
him
or him
or him
or him
I was saving it all for you
and now I know
the holes in my heart
and the chaos in my head
were all for you
because of you
the suffering was so sweet
you were worth the Empty Januaries
and the Hardest September of My Life
but now you are here
and these are no more
my heart is open
and I can love you
you are here
the whole world stops
Nicole Hammond Feb 2015
today makes 10 years
and it's ironic that
you died
around Valentine's Day
because
your favorite color
was always pink
you were beautiful
and you suffered
and it was not beautiful
but you were beautiful
you are beautiful

this poem will not be sad
because you are not sad
I did not cry today
because you wouldn't have
wanted me to
I cooked myself scrambled eggs
and set two places
at the table
I wore a dress for you
I put on lipstick for you
elegance was the house you built

today I chose to love because
I love you
I am a woman because
you showed me how to be one
I sat in the back yard
between the tall pine trees
because I haven't forgotten
how much you loved to garden
I'm sorry your gentle might didn't
translate into my clamoring bones
I am too much me to be soft like you

I wrote your name on my desk today
without the vowels
I still know it's you but it's not there
like I want it to be
showing me how to plant flowers
how to make light with my ***** hands
because of you, whom I love
because of you I love
for my beautiful grandmother, who was like a mother to me; thank you for showing me love that abounds even through death.
I'm not ready to forget you yet.
Nicole Hammond Feb 2015
I want to be like nature
nature has no worry,
no tremor in the night
of what the day will bring,
no panic attacks in the shower

the sky looks down and even
in its insurmountable size
it cannot help the ground
it watches men dig up her roots
and lay their own falsehood
on her and the construction equipment
drowns out her weeping

the sky is at the mercy of the clouds,
constantly being washed over with
sadness and not being able to stop
crying, sometimes the sky stays in bed
for days without so much as
opening her blinds

she sees her lover the trees being
used by men who won't remember her
in the morning once they
devour her and take her
away and she gets so angry but
the lightning strikes never
land where she wants them to,
overcome by anguish for being
so big and so blue and so helpless

but sometimes the seasons spend the
night and actually stay for breakfast,
and she feels so lovely
she beams with radiance and
the whole earth smiles

nature has no worry;
the earth knows that
these men prying her apart
like lock jaw will some day
return and they will plant
flowers in her and repent
for their sins

she is the woman you come home
late to and she already has
the bed turned down, and
even when the sky sees her
dressed in white she has to stop and
catch her breath.

the sky knows some days
the clouds will hang on her
like cinder block and they will be
relentless, but when you are
the blanket the whole child of earth
is tucked in under she is calm,
relinquishing to the night with
the peace of knowing every fog
will be burnt away

she sees every one of her lovers
reincarnations and loves her again
and again and again in every life;
when she sees the trees being cut
like green split ends she writes a
eulogy in the breeze, sending away
her lovers leaves to be lived again
always closer to her own heart

the universe has seen come & go,
it knows the taste of unfaithful,
has found her hairs in its bed, but
still she cooks breakfast for one and
locks her doors as she leaves

she knows men will try to change her,
fail, and then leave and
they will try to change her, fail,
and then leave and she has no worry
that her eyes will stay bright,
her hands never cramped into bitterness,
nature has no worry.
Nicole Hammond Feb 2015
11
I looked at your hands too long and started feeling sorry

12
I am death and you are grave, made to hold me when all else turns to dust

13
I was 16 the first time my mother told me God was not inside me anymore. I was 16 when I started to wonder the same myself.

14
I saw my reflection in the glass pane of my back door and started to cry like a child out of fear

15
why don't you let people touch you anymore? I bet you still remember the night you turned to ash at that strange man's touch. you've been burning ever since and you're so scared of loving again because they took everything from you, you can't even write poetry anymore for fear of sending your hands into a violent flashback. your body wants to forget the press of another, careful or catastrophic

16
the truth of the matter is your bed didn't feel empty until you believed it to be. when did you become insufficient?

17
you were so skinny; what made you hate yourself so fervently that you tried to turn your body inside out? did you think that making yourself disappear would make someone else come back?

18
the night God gave men the power to steal away souls the devil stayed at his mother's place & the seven circles of hell all drank themselves to sleep

19
there is more giggle than grave inside of you, never forget that. all the grace tucked behind your ears and hiding under your nervous fingernails is enough to make even the most monstrous shame laid upon your altar turn to dust at the very sight

20
what does death even mean when everyday you walk like you're late to your own funeral

21
every living generation of my family sat at the kitchen table tonight and tried to remember, death pulled up a chair in the corner but we all still laughed
part II of redamancy
Nicole Hammond Feb 2015
1
you were what Adam called poetry those first days in the garden; there were no words to encompass You so he used all of them

2
I have heard voices at the bottoms of bottles, always emptier

3
I am angry at my hands for being too weak to turn house keys, maybe you would've let me in if I was strong enough

4
it's all my fault, I know it. the day my father loaded his fear into the back of a pickup truck and drove away was the day I learned that leaving is just coming back, falling out of bed when I thought I felt your warmth beside me

5
show me a word that doesn't look like loss when you hold it to the light too long; there isn't one

6
maybe if I didn't cry so often I would feel fuller; if I was fuller I would have more to pour out to you

7
love me with a depth and severity that would make hurricanes green with envy

8
we want so much and we desire so deeply, it is no fault of our own that we always feel so disconnected; empty of a thing of which we have never felt full

9
playing foul piano chords to an audience of my nauseating loneliness, roars of applause come from your side of the bed

10
it's okay that he only calls when the morning after has proven to come too early & too bright, you've always been the warm & familiar darkness

— The End —