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Glowing, aqua eyes,
Tangle hair, supple bosoms,
Family jewels.
 Mar 2013 Olivia Amelia
Madelin
First, if I am comatose for a while pre-death, don't let them call me a fighter.
I'm probably not fighting it.
It's probably the first time I've been able to relax in a decade.

Second, keep my death off the internet.
Tell my friends of my demise with handwritten notes delivered by white-gloved butlers with somber expressions.
Tell my enemies by sitting on their chests and poking them in the forehead repeatedly until they guess how it happened. It shouldn't take long.

Third, my friends from high school will immediately try to design stickers for their car windows with my name on them and a graphic of dance shoes or track shoes or my college mascot.
You are not to allow this.
A sticker denoting the death of a loved one will not keep fellow motorists from noticing that my friends from high school **** at driving.

Not permitted at the funeral:
Gerber daisies
poetry
blue jeans
any ex-boyfriend I refer to by something other than their name (i.e. "the fat hipster I used to hang out with.")

Encouraged at the funeral:
Hugs - everyone must hug
lots of appropriately sad, yet tasteful songs sung by my musically-minded loved ones (may I suggest "In Light of Time" by Phillip E. Silvey?)
And make sure they bury me in the blue dress.

Last, for every story they tell about me where I was kind or selfless or funny or caring,
make sure someone also tells the story where I got too drunk at a frat house and made out with a kid from upstate New York and then spent four hours passed out and/or puking on the floor of the communal bathroom in Ashley's building,
or the one where I punched Savannah in third grade,
or the one where I rolled a car for no particular reason.

Remember me as I was.
Most days, I am still a human being
Complete with a growing body
A growing mind
And two left feet

Most days, if feels like a good fit
I have learned to use these legs
To take purposeful steps,
Long and leading

Sometimes, I fall flat on my face with flair
For me, to be human is to be clumsy
But it also learning how to make peace

Walking down the street
I count the pairs of eyes that turn to meet mine
And see that they are few and far between
To be human is to be afraid of other humans

And that reality has never sat well in my stomach,
It aches anvils in the bottom of my belly
Bends bright light into muted hues
Happiness is reaching

But my arms are long limbs
And growing all the time

At the ends are these hands;
Meant to hammer or to hold
Being human begs a balance
But the scale tips too often
And our fingers close to clench

Letting go is never easy
But I have learned that breaking
Never brings resolution

Too many humans have never learned that truth
They don’t see that no one’s temple was built to conquer
Anger is a heavy load that no back was meant to bear
And that an empty hand was made for waving
But when holding a gun, it gains new meaning
And bullets weren’t forged to give good greetings
Our bodies were never built to be bombs.
And they would know that if they listened
To their own hearts just beating,
More times in a single day than all the hateful words
I could ever think to say.

And I admit my own mind wasn’t created
To comprehend codes or complex mathematics
But I am blessed with an understanding of basic equations:

One ear plus one ear means that I should always be listening
Add 28 teeth, a tongue plus a voice and there is never a reason for me
Not to say how I’m feeling
Two lips plus two lips
Sometimes equals a kiss
And when it doesn’t,
X amount of sadness plus
Y number of friends means no one ever has to truly be alone

Being human can be beautiful if you don’t let it break you.
Even when it does

Most days I am human
But there are mornings I wake up
Feeling like so much less
On the days when my genetics take the turn to depression
And simple mathematics feels too complex to comprehend,
Even on these days, I can defer
To the most basic lesson in anatomy;

Our bodies are not accidents
We have been put together perfectly
To perpetuate existence peacefully as possible

And all the pieces have already fallen into place
All that is left
Is to live.
 Mar 2013 Olivia Amelia
Steffanie
Laughter
Questions
Answers
Apologies.
We knew of these too well..
Understanding
Confusion
Congestion
Control
...Apologies.
G­uilt
Panic
Love?
Lust
Too Strong!
APOLOGIES
TRUTH!
The picture is coming
The gears are turning
The mind is racing
The nose is smelling
The fingers are sensing
The skin is tingling
STOP!
My mind needs sleep
My heart? Dreaming
Your eyes? Seeing
My soul? Clinging
Apologies...
We ARE so sorry,
Love?
Lust?
Panic
Chaos
Apologies.
Too much
Too soon
Too far gone
Too long..
Goodnight.
Apologies.

— The End —