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I have a golden locket,
That hangs around my neck,
It's heavy as weighted stone,
And I'm a nervous wreck.
I keep it with me through each day,
And through the passing cold,
I keep it close, next to my heart,
Although it has grown old.
I have this ****** and rusted locket,
Filled with ash and pain,
I don't know why I wear it still,
Don't ask me to explain.
There is a little fleck of blood
lightly smeared inside my yellow shirt
hiding like a speck of paint
from a day’s work that I did not do.

It is a thing of shame because impulse
prevents me from being sane
as I scratch at scabs I know would heal
if not for the urge I have
to pull and peal until
a speck of blood pools
inside my now open wound
which is less than half the size
of real life bullet holes.

Now some sheets at the hotel
hide a small blood spot,
but you’d have to be an expert
to find it amidst the folded fields
of thin bleached white covers.

Like someone being abused
I try to cover this ****** bruise
this scab that wounds my fragile ego
making me feel uglier than I did
cause I can’t help picking at it.
 Oct 2016 PaperclipPoems
L
I feel your breath on my skin
shivering into my skull
infesting my thoughts.
you claw at the inside of my ribcage
spiraling sharpness
ripping my flesh wide open.

you make me so cold.
and I'll never find warmth because of you
I'm simply made of good intentions,
 compassion runs right through my veins,
I'm a walking empathetic cuddle,
A delightful rainbow
that follows heavy rains.

My heart is pure without reservations,
I am genuine and I am sincere,
I smile when I see somebody happy,
and my heart aches
when I see anybody shed a tear.

I'm told that I have a combination
of great qualities,
kindness, sincerity,
and generosity - A real heart of gold!
I treat people how I would want
to be treated,  
on my watch nobody is left out
in the cold!
,
I live without expectations,
I need nature to help me breathe
and survive,
I give back to the earth
whenever possible,  
because I know that without it
we wouldn't be alive!

I'm magnetically attracted
and pulled towards natural landscapes
and solitude,
I can't stay away from them
no matter how hard I try!
I'm torn between the enchanting forest
and the vast blue ocean,
such exquisite beauties,
it's no wonder why!

I'm a lover of the magical majestic moon
and the brilliant constellations,
searching for answers
in the infinite celestial sphere
is where my mind spends its vacations.

My inspiration is often found up above
in the mysterious night sky...
Yes! I have been a poet since birth!
This, I cannot, or will not deny!

Hello Poetry,
My name is Rosalie!

By Lady R.F ©2016
she didn't know where he was going,
how long he'd be gone,
only that she needed to wait
for his homecoming,
to watch for the letters he promised,
believing the sharp angina pains
stabbing her chest might
**** her during another long absence

he'd pick her up like she
weighed nothing,
willing herself to be lighter
so that he wouldn't put her down,
straddling her boney legs
around his waist,
inhaling the scent of Grey Flannel
evaporating off his soft skin

the mystery of where he went
every six months or so
was made insignificant,
"to work", as if it was just
a drive over the mountain
from Ft. Shafter instead of
some jungle Walter Cronkite
talked about on television

his letters came in red, white and blue
envelopes from APO's and HQ's,
pictures of dragons and snakes
drawn on the margins
doing nothing to alleviate
a seven year old's insecurities

then mother went to volunteer
at Tripler's burn ward
her small mind beginning
to comprehend he was in the
same place the "Uncle Sam Wants You"
signs wanted men

Walter called it the war in Vietnam
adult conversations she'd overheard
said it was big, but the sound of it
made her body shrink into a ball

Written by Sara Fielder © Sept 2014
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