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May 2015
in love most with you
in the morning
the smell of alive, heat in your hair
divine in this divine & cannot be forgotten
while this white light blinds lines finding lies in our steps toward each other, wondering
am I moving close or forward
I cannot tell
and this whole time, they were my eyes
and here, and you
a dry spell of quiet
your breathing
aware of everything and something
I see her face in my sleep in her bed
I am the body
she is the thing
sweat and closeness
closeness and sleep
something to have before coffee
closed mouth somehow
consuming all of this

it is a different sort
you my love and me
a girl
and I don't get to keep that
or holidays, oh lord
drowning in pages of worth
coming from, ink-less pens
slicing, *******, slicing white sheets
handing you a different line of wounds
right before the blood dries
before my cells give up
tomorrow, don't take this from me

today was over before yesterday
my shoes are bigger than your feet but if you put them on you might see how I run to you

love as a box
bound to age me faster than any unwatered rose.
from red to brown, and brown to forgotten on this calendar made of you & your making time for it
hanging upside, hanging on
having me count down seconds like an acrobat
catch me
but your arms are full
I say carry more
you say I love you
in their bed
I say sunrises are beautiful and yet fire destroys just as faith does in things that were never mine
I'm borrowing your hands for a week
trying to
stop
torturing myself
but you
the whip
me the body
you the lips
me the body
you the grip
me the blood
the colors you dipped in to rouse
I'm going, dying everyday
and she is coming home

I broke the moment I pulled the trigger
wanting a hole
I broke when my tongue found your tumors and your teeth found my love for you buried under blankets that needed to be changed

I haven't forgotten my name
every time you say it
it is only said, and I wonder if you meant to
swallow me like otherwise

that I might die and come back your favorite
spot on the couch

having to give it up to maybe
having the right to choose.
I am choosing not to

because my name is Elizabeth
I am she
& not her
the vase is her
I am the flowers
picked and replaced
you will refill her

you are the water
you are the lion & the horse

& I'm losing my hope in
forgetting your ribs in the kitchen
Julie Butler
Written by
Julie Butler  CA
(CA)   
471
   Olga Valerevna, --- and ---
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