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Makala
Poems
Nov 2013
A storm of you.
all in a hurl of memories
now i understand
why storms
are named after
people
you traced the freckles
on my back
only to know
where to hit the gun
you were made of
well-structured sentences
that broke people apart
i sat there
trying to make you love me again
like a half-blown dandelion
just a few seconds away
from being dismembered
i ate the words
that you spoke to me
now i am left
alone and starving
now i carve crescent moons
on my skin
hoping they would reflect
sunlight into the darkest
corners of my soul
that you created
every fiber of my body
could burn into ashes
yet still i would
remember how it
once felt when the
warmth of your skin
met mine
but i will not destroy
the petals of these daisies
only to know that you love me not
i know now
that i was just
one of your cigarette breaks.
Written by
Makala
United States
(United States)
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