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I am drawn to you like
The stars to the midnight skies
The Earth to the burning sun
Water to thirsting flowers

I am comfortable with you like
An old pair of boots
A faded pair of jeans
My favorite sweater and scarf

I am at peace with you like
Sitting in a boat in the middle of a lake
Taking a walk in silence in the country
Listening to rain drops fall in the dark of night

I am alive with you
Like the laughter that is uncontrollable
The heart that goes thump, thump, thump
Running through wildflowers in the wilderness

Every ounce of my being
Mind, body and soul are riveted by you
I am alive with you, free with you,
comfortable with you I love you

Heather Mirassou
A poem I wrote for my husband.
It was nice finally hearing your voice again

The anticipation like staring down the barrel of a gun

Only to hear it jam

It is nice to know you are not some big bang

So that I may finally lay my weapons down

This shield was so heavy from the weight of your motion

My legs grew tired from keeping me faced in your direction

They spelled dizzy

In dirt brown cursive

The grooves I wore into the pavement

The siren’s song singing so heavy

Working the cotton

Pulling it lose

You are not some siren song

Or a stampede when I put my ear to the ground

You are breath and bone

And break

as easily as I do

So let me learn to regret your whisper

Teaching my tongue

The taste of the secret Braille

On your teeth

Breaking my pattern like dancing

With all 4 of our left feet

The distance it takes your voice to travel

Thins out the shape of your longing

I know you

I know you

Like the nights where I thought I could hold you

But then realized my arms

Could never meet the circumference of your pedestal

Until you taught me to hammer

Dull chisel tip to your armor

I’ve finally lain my weapons down

After your voice misfired I love you

You can see my scars

Like a runway sash

From the top of my shoulder

Down to the opposite hip

They say

This Was Supposed to be Beautiful

And let me tell you again

That shield

It was so heavy
They've destroyed the place we met,
That school that we made the home of our meeting,
The hallways where we walked by one another,
Waving like idiots,
The tables we sat at,
Perfectly positioned so we could stare at one another,
The desks we learned in,
The one that were in perfect view so we could laugh even from across the room,
The door we stood by,
Patiently waiting for them to let us in,
The doors that we stood in front of so awkwardly in silence,
That's all destroyed.

Now all I have left is the place we walked to,
Up the street,
Behind another building,
The place where we shared hundreds of laughs,
And thousands of smiles,
That place,
On that step by some random door,
The one where we first kissed,
I remember the rain,
It was always light and cold,
Always,
As in the two days we visited that place,
The two days we actually kissed.
I think about that place all the time,
I loved it,
It had a essence unlike any other place I've ever been,
But Maybe It was just because the memories made,
The ones that have not yet been destroyed,
And even if they do,
I'll have my mind,hopefully for many years to come,
But even when that too perishes I will have these words,
These Words Of Our Special Place.
I realized something today.
I realized that,
no matter how many stupid things you put me though,
we had some good times.
But I admit,
the bad might have out shined the good.
In the end,
I knew I would miss you,
But...
I didn't think I would hate you.
And the truth is,
I really do hate you.

I fought against it for a while,
trying to tell myself,
that you had a justifiable reason,
for doing everything you did.
But you don't.
You never have.
And you never will.
Everything you did to me,
was malevolent,
painful,
abusive,
manipulative,
and traumatizing.
And I wish I could make it all go away,
But I can't.

This is my only escape.

Every time I look at you,
you **** the life straight out of my heart,
and the feeling from my limbs.
It's suddenly harder to breathe,
and my blood starts to boil.
And underneath all of those symptoms,
there's a question.
"Who are you?!"
Who are you...
all I want to know,
is who you are.
Because you're definitely not anything that I recognize.

I realize now,
That I was set up from the very start.
But I'd like to think,
if not for just one second,
that 2 years and 6 months actually meant something to you.
Something more than stringing me along,
because I really can't put my life back together,
knowing that you're just out to mess it up.
And I know you are,
because every single thing you've done,
for the past 10 months,
has been deliberate enough for me to see,
that you're just trying to ruin me.
And you know what?
I try to stop you.
But you just break me down so completely, and,
so,
*******,
easily.

Remember what I said?
About how hard it is for me to even look at you?
Think of how bad it is for me to hear your voice!
Your harmonious voice,
taunting me in melodious tongues,
prodding into my brain,
and planting new seeds of doubt,
where they will no doubt grow and bloom.
One word is all it takes.
It doesn't even have to be towards me,
it just has to be around me.
It flows around me,
as surely as the air flows through my lungs.
And it fills my system with dripping venom.
Constricting,
writhing it's way into my thoughts,
and slowly enveloping my heart.
I don't know how long my heart can stay choked like this.
I need air,
I need freedom,
but most of all,
I need reassurance that I'm going to be okay...

In the end,
I know I'll never get to say any of this to you.
But I'd still like to say it.
You're a pathetic excuse for a human being.
Really.
You're a sadistic, abusive, manipulative, conniving, malevolent...****.
Yeah, that sounds about right.
I wish I could take my years, months, hours and minutes back,
so I could have spent them with who I'm with now.
Because never in my entire life,
have I found someone who makes me smile as easily as he does.
His scent makes my heart flutter,
and his happiness is contagious.
When I'm in his arms,
everything is okay.
But there's still that silent sense of foreboding.
That sense that you're still out there,
destroying the lives of other girls,
like you did mine.

I don't know when I'll heal.
Or when I'll even start to heal.
But now I know the first step.

*I need to accept the fact that I need help.
I understand that this isn't very poem-esque, but I really needed to write it. I feel like I might finally be able to move on with my life now, instead of being frozen in one point in time. I really put so much emotion into this, that I'm physically exhausted.
Living in your shadow is worse than hell!
I'm so *******, can you not tell?!
I hide from you everyday,
because I just want you to go away...

I'm sick of my parents talking about you.
I'm sick of all the praise they give you.
I'm so sorry that I can't compare to you,
but I thought parents were supposed to love me too?

Well mom, it's  obvious that you don't care,
I got that from all the times you weren't there.
All the time you spend showing off my brother,
It makes me sick to call you my mother.

Dad, don't worry, you get a punch too.
For all the ******* you've put me through.
"Work harder, like your brother!"
Is what you tell me to do,
but I don't think I want to be like any of you.
Okay. This was seriously just a rant. A very very very angry fed up/oppressed rant. But it has some sort of a rhyme scheme to it, so I guess you could call it a poem, haha.
You asked me **one time,
why I liked the stars so much,
and I didn't really have an answer for you.
But now I do.
I like the stars because,
we're really seeing the past,
and it seems to me that I liked my past
more than I'm going to like my future.
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I dunno, felt like doing something different. I thought it was pretty interesting. Anyone find the hidden meaning? :P
I run my fingers across the surface
of the water.
Above ground pool.
I'm eleven.
You stare out your window,
you know I'm there.
So very Romeo.

I call to you.
I throw stones at your window.
My god, the innocence in an age
before cell phones, and Instant messages.
The freedom of love before email.

You press your lips against the glass.
Puckered. A kiss.
You didn't wear lipstick.
You were young still.
Little girls weren't yet taught
to think they were adults.
The grease from your lips left an imprint.
It wasn't shaped like a kiss.
It mostly looked like your cheek.

Above ground pool.
My fingers damp across the
always blue ripples of water.
So very Romeo.

There were notes, folded into tight and
puzzling shapes, and passed in class.
The checkmark appreciation game.
I kept them.
Unchecked boxes.
They were in my pocket.
They're gone now, but so are you.
So am I.

When I kissed you I had my eyes open.
I didn't know any better.
It was nothing.
A peck.
Everyone thought
we would be married one day.
I like to think that you knew better.
So very Romeo.
I am willing to sink into the sound
of night’s changing secrets
where the world sees my breath
wipe away the tears mirroring its pain.
Smiles are caught on fire,
wooed by this poet,
but do not reflect the same.

Instead of playing under trees,
I allow everything to be swept away
by the winds
on the soft petals of a voice.
A voice that empties all its brilliance
into our sleep
comes to see our smiles rejoice.

Life is exhibited in dirt
from the bottom of my shoe
yet never utters a word.
Still, I will never wave goodbye
to thoughts that turn.
Does anyone ever really understand
the smiles a poet burns?

I welcome hands that hush the existence
of whispered memories
lighting candles dwelling in our minds.
If you knew what was on the line,
would you be willing to sink
into night’s sound
in kind?
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