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When I asked you to fix me,
You told me I wasn't broken.
But, let this soak in.
I just wanted to know,
If i was still a pretty enough picture to be worth, agonizing over a puzzle.
Even when it's a struggle.
And you have to nuzzle each piece into place,
Kissing the pieces bent out of shape,
Searching for pieces gone missing,
But you can't make a raisin back into a grape.
Yes, I Remember your middle name
And who says we can't celebrate failure?
Don't be sad, we tried, we tried.
When you write your story in the sand it washes away with the tide.
It isn't our fault.
We may have cut ourselves open, But we didn't ask for the salt in our
wounds
Can I still say "we"?
I guess you're kind of done with me.
I don't blame you, Puzzles are frustrating.
they're a tease.
Please, tell me I haven't lost the most important piece.
Tell me I haven't lost
you.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
 Aug 2014 Patience
CE Thompson
eons of tears are streaming down her face
a rainshower of the past and forgotten
exploding into a waterfall
she doesn't know why the storm came now
but she knows that she's got no reason for it
and it makes the thunder grow louder
 Aug 2014 Patience
Brian Carson
kites bounce around over head
as our skin softens the sand
noticing the mathematics in the waves
the tide nips at our feet then runs away

as the water retracts
the sand starts to look like my carpet
then I realize where I am
on the floor in my bedroom
with a memory in my hand
and it bites like a fire ant
the sting feels the same as the rest of them

birds chirp from their nests
in the trees above our heads
and a spider web on the swing set
the intricate design has me fascinated

as the sunlight bounces off rather slow
the web starts to look like my cracked window
then I realize where I am
looking outside at life happening
with a feeling in my heart
that rattles like a screen door in the wind
it feels like I am walking out then back in again
 Aug 2014 Patience
imadeitallup
I don't expect you to understand
Why I recoil when
You extend your arms and hands
Why I brace for impact
Within the trajectory of your touch
It is warm,
and I am cold.
It is wind,
and I am stone.
IF YOU STEAL THIS POEM, OR ANY OTHER POEMS OF MINE. I WILL FIND YOU, AND I WILL COME AFTER YOU LEGALLY. I AM SOOO SICK OF SEEING THIS POEM ALL OVER THE INTERNET WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S NAME UNDER IT. I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU CAN LIVE WITH YOURSELVES. STEALING OTHERS WORK AND CLAIMING IT AS YOUR OWN. BUT ALL OF THESE ARE COPYRIGHTED SONGS. SO YOU BETTER HOPE I DON'T CATCH YOU. P.S. THANKS TO ALL OF THE PEOPLE FINDING AND TELLING ME ABOUT THESE FAKES. I APPRECIATE THE LOYALTY. :)
 Aug 2014 Patience
Brian Carson
I live with an altered state of mind
sometimes I believe that I believe in something
but there is nothing that I can honestly define
and I am beginning to wonder why I even try
wind chimes ding in my head
blending like a flock of birds being fed
I am bleeding internally in my legs
and the burning sensation is becoming addicting
afflicting pain on yourself is a symptom
of constant wishful thinking
not seeing the difference between
what is real and what is reality
what is true and what is a fallacy
 Aug 2014 Patience
Kristina E
Lost
 Aug 2014 Patience
Kristina E
They are tearing away my home
removing one piece at time.
In few days
some other people
will make a life of their own
in the place i still call my home.

And I will have to continue my life elsewhere...
 Aug 2014 Patience
Joshua Haines
Out of body, out of touch
If I feel at all, then I feel too much
This poem is as shallow as my grave

But I'm still digging

If I want a God then I'll misbehave
If I want to be sad then I'll entertain
Just because I'm found
doesn't mean I'm around
Just because I'm growing up
Doesn't mean I can't be down

I'm sorry, mom and dad,
but if I want to be happy then I'll have to be sad
I'll write until my fingers bleed
Until my words are the blood that the readers need
 Aug 2014 Patience
ryan
Black Smoke
 Aug 2014 Patience
ryan
I am a fire.
A son of Prometheus, perhaps.
I burn and eat and distill and
Warm and give life.

But there has been a wrong.

My smoke is black.
I suffocate and choke and blind and
hurt. Because what I am burning,
Is alive.

It's supple with the liquid of life.

The clear gold filled in leaves.
It's in her too, and my chemistry
Is off. This chemo, the kerosene.
In me, doused on her.

It burns her and hurts and I am no longer a fire.

I am afraid.

— The End —