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Rachel Brainard Jan 2014
The flowers have long been wilted
over your charcoaled remains, but
every time I think of you
I cannot refrain from asking
"Why?"

And I am torn - angry -
that you were ripped so violently away.
My mind says I need to let go, but
my heart may not ever be ready.

**FORLORN
Rachel Brainard Jan 2013
Arteries, nerves, veins
Gaze upon them
day after day
piercing muscle, bone
and fat (but we won't talk about that)
Blood and electricity
constantly coursing
keeping this collection alive.

One part is altered and you may be ok,
but his heart broke
and he was forced
to leave all behind
with only the memory
of a beloved
grandfather remaining.
Rachel Brainard Jan 2013
Stiff, colorful
tumbling over and over as the wind
pushes me on to
places
and things
I've never known.
Over mountains and
across plains on the
neverending interstates
the white-black-gray callous and
compacted from the multitude of trampling
feet, cars, souls.

I know not where I will go-
wherever the wind pushes me
On and on until
I am finally caught and
new life is forced into my
veins before I too can be
overwhelmed.
Rachel Brainard Jan 2013
It's 3:45 and I feel like it's
time for bed.

Lectures filled with people in
artificial white coats
with the hope of someday
wearing them truthfully.

It's 3:45 and I feel like it's
time for bed.

The piano plays softly
fabricating a calm, peaceful atmosphere
of Christmas
in the cancer center.

It's 3:45 and I feel like it's
time for bed.

She sits a lone on a big, comfy couch
in a tall, cold room
trying to make sense
of it all.
Rachel Brainard Jan 2013
I want to,
                                                    but I can't.
She wants to know,
                                                    but then it will be over.
I'll start.
                                                    She's­ still listening.
I shouldn't continue.
                                                    Sh­e still wants to know more.
I'll keep going.
                                                    Is it ok to tell her everything?
I guess I'm in this far.
                                                    Wow.  S­he's not shocked.
I think she might actually
still want to be friends.
                                                    No.­  There's no wa-
                                                             ­                             *
"I love you."
Rachel Brainard Jan 2013
so hard
yet with certain ones
so easy

This fragment of my life
a puzzle piece that
wedges itself in
attempting to appear to fit

Sometimes I think
it does,
but I'm reminded that
only He can make me whole

Those that are easy are
hard to find because
they speak truth amidst
a swarm of lies

I'm nothing,
worthless,
better off dead

And truth rushes in
in the strangest forms
speaking
love
Rachel Brainard Nov 2012
You try to wipe yourself
from the table of
my heart, but somehow
you always miss
a spot.

GO!  Or...sit down again.
Bring a mocha
or a latte.
and a warm rhubarb cake.
Stay awhile.  Or...
forever.

the spot always missed
eternally remains
in the center of
the table of my heart
permanently etched.

Because
A colorful centerpiece covers
your spot
concealing it from all eyes,
but felt
daily.

A pinprick
in the center of
the table
of my heart.
This is a draft!  Any and all comments and suggestions are wanted and welcome!
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