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what
if the reason
people are attracted
to each other is because we were once together
as atoms as elements, as stars? What if we once belonged to each other
in our souls and we can feel it? Because I must have been
scattered across the universe in order to feel for so
many people. You were my first love, always
will be. Did                                   you feel it
too?
 Mar 2014 celestial
Matt Cardinal
We talk, often enough,
about not growing up
partially because we don't want to,
partially because we know we have to
and we're scared because we haven't.

We look at the kids
(if we can still call them kids)
a year, two years older than us
and say,
“****.”

And all I ever say is "****", really,
because I haven't grown up
and that's not a bad thing
if you don't mind reading
poetry by a sailor.

We get jobs,
and say we earn a living
finally,
but movies the odd time
and fast food some days
isn't exactly a life.

Our parents still have to
pick us up from parties
when we're drunk
(because adults do it)
and we feel older
because we can almost
(almost) handle the taste of alcohol.

We're in this phase
(phase is the adult word, see, progress)
where we give a ****,
(I mean genuinely care)
about how adults look at us
but the important question is
why are they always looking at us?

Do they think they're looking in a mirror,
and all they can say is
“****”?
And all they can say is “****”, really,
because they wish they didn't grow up,
and how it's a bad thing,
because they know bigger
(more sophisticated) words,
yet they still talk like sailors;
but it's not  too bad a thing
because they have this word,
“phase”,
and they know it's just one of those,
whatever the **** that means.
An 18 year-old's idea of trying to feel like an adult.
 Mar 2014 celestial
calion
he doesn't like me for me.

he doesn't like me for my poetry.
he doesn't like me for my thoughts.
he doesn't like me for how i look.
he doesn't like me for how i act.
he doesn't like me for how i am.

he looks at me and sees not a person.

he looks at me and sees not a girl.
he looks at me and sees not a poet.
he looks at me and sees not a smart girl.

he sees a wasteland.

he sees a girl without love.
he sees broken skin and flaws.

he loves ruins.
he loves fixing people.

you can't fix everyone.
you can't fix a heart that has so many bandages on it that you can't tell what's latex and what's muscle.
you can't fix me unless i break even more.

do you want me to break more?
you love seeing me break.
that's kind of sad.
pathetic.
you love when i hate myself.
and i hate myself so you won't go away.
A sister is a person
You have known since birth
You taunt her and you tease her
All your days on earth

You call each other names
And say horrible stuff
You hurt each other all the time
And call each other’s bluff

And yet through all the hard times
When trouble is near by
Your sister is the one you call
To talk to as you cry

You laugh together
Talk together
And even though you fight
You love your sister more each day
All throughout your life

Your sister is the one best friend
You never got to pick
But you know she will always be there
Through the thick and thin

She knows you and she loves you
More than any friend
She will always be there
To guide you till the very end
This one is dedicated to the worlds most amazing sisters aka mine. Love you guys xox
 Mar 2014 celestial
Liv
always
 Mar 2014 celestial
Liv
you form galaxies inside of me
you shoot venom through my veins
and hold my world in the palm of your hand
you release butterflies in my chest
and warm up my heart by the fire burning in yours
you shoot rockets in my mind
that explode into a shade of red that no one has seen
you give me ringing in my ears
that sounds like waves crashing against my body
floating out at sea
for a love that you gave to me and took all of it away
I wish i could give you all of this back.
 Mar 2014 celestial
Madisen Kuhn
tonight,
i will lay my head on my pillow
and my mind will be silent
and i don't know if that's
better or worse than
a thousand disarrayed thoughts
keeping me away,
because regardless of
whether or not
i'm thinking of you
and wondering if
you're thinking of me,
whether or not
i'm thinking of this
or that or anything
that makes me feel,
it still takes forever
to fall asleep
I don't write poems, I write
concussions. Dangerously close
to blood coming out of your ears, straddling
life, don't fall asleep because
you may never
wake up.

I don't write haikus, I write
famous last words. The final exhale,
the precious breathe before
the light at the end of the
tunnel, a tongue deep kiss
with death.

I don't write stories, I write
tragedies like Romeo and Juliet
except a dozen more people are killed
in the cross-fire of
my affection.

I don't write, I ****
the English language.
I beat it into submission with
sweat and strife.
I destroy life.
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