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Rachel Herrmann Apr 2015
Ever since you left this world
I've gradually been losing myself.
Ever since you deserted me,
Left me to fend for myself,
A trickle of water has irrigated my mind,
Slowly but surely.
I no longer get joy from silly putty,
Because that was ours,
And isn't meant to be mine alone.
Just like our fingers shaped the putty,
Your absence has shaped my world.
I no longer invent alien drag queens
With a mixture of our names,
Because that was our creation,
And your name is now etched on a gravestone.
I no longer carry around the alarm clock
That we used to pretend was our phone,
Because that was a time when connection mattered,
And now I know when I call it'll reiterate you're gone.
I no longer smile at the idea of my own recovery,
A thing I pushed onto you so strongly,
Because I wasn't there to get you through your own,
And you needed me more than I knew.
So as this trickle of water creates cracks in my mind,
I know that insanity is coming for me,
That I'll break at any moment.
But for now I'll stay in denial,
To the fact that the death of a best friend always comes
Slowly but surely.
RIP Aleigha Gutierrez
Rachel Herrmann Feb 2015
The only constant in life id impermanence.
As hard as it is to accept,
We will all have our day.
Rocks will weather.
Our bodies will decay.
My only goal in this life
Is to become, to be.
It's not something tangible,
Nor is it a title.
It's just being.
Being one with life.
Sitting with a delicate flower,
Whose petals are so fragile and vibrant,
Knowing one day it will darken and wilt
And with tears in my eyes
That I know soon will dry
I will become aware.
I will be.
Rachel Herrmann Jan 2015
I need inspiration.
I need a new muse.
Not the kind that impresses
But rather undresses
And leaves you with the essence
Of a poet, raw.
Exposed but not defenseless.
I'll be open,
You're all welcome.
Come in,
Kick off your shoes,
Get comfortable.
For maybe if I let you see,
I will have some new vision
Of myself and who to be.
Maybe your eyes will tell me-
When I drop my guard down
-What I really look like
From the vision of
An unfamiliar gaze.
It's possible I'll see horror
Or maybe some pain
In the eyes of the many
That witness me plain.
I'm sorry to sound dramatic,
But this is what I must have.
To feel what you feel
When your eyes grasp my spirit.
I must know.
I simply need inspiration.
Rachel Herrmann Jan 2015
I didn't follow the recipe given to me.
Instead of adding love,
I added the hate you gave to me
On a silver platter.
As if it was something holy
That should be accepted with gratitude
And not the resentment you received.
Instead of adding purity and innocence
I added the corruption you placed upon me
With your ***** hands
Always searching
Never seeming to find just what they're looking for
Always going back for more.
Instead of adding beauty
I added the ugliness
Your words showed me I was.
The mirror proved this true
With every stolen glance I took,
Always hoping to see something different
And always being disappointed
By the reflection I eventually shattered.
But what good is a culinary delight
Without it being properly prepared?
Because of you,
I was put away in the Utah heat,
The sun slowly cooking me.
And when I was finally released,
I was no longer my ingredients.
I was something new.
Because of what you gave me,
I became one hell of a treat.
No longer was I hate,
Or corruption,
Or ugliness.
Instead I emerged
With love,
Purity and innocence,
And beauty.
It took all that negativity
To teach me what to be:
The real me.
Written for #recipechallenge
Rachel Herrmann Jan 2015
These words are an expansion of myself.
With every letter my pen forms on paper,
My heart joins it.
A written contract,
Formally bonded
When the ink sets.
I write not for the recognition,
But for the sake of my sanity.
For without this action
The emotions flowing through me
Would have no place to go.
Backing up until they could no longer course through me.
Stopping still.
They must move
Or else they'll solidify.
Turning me into stone.
A statue whose visage
Does not smile nor frown
For there is no sculptor
To define it's countenance.
It simply goes with the fate
It was handed-
A girl lacking the emotions
Only her pen can form.
Rachel Herrmann Jan 2015
When I was younger,
I thought the moon followed me
In the car on the ride home.
When I was younger,
I thought my tears
Made the look of streetlights
Magical.
When I was younger,
I thought I was the only one
Who could hear fuzzy noises
When I rested my head on the pillow.
When I was younger,
I thought I was the only one
That saw orange
When I closed me eyes
After staring into the sun.
When I was younger,
I thought I was special.
Now that I'm older,
I know death is inevitable,
Even for me.
Now that I'm older,
I know that my friends
Won't love me forever.
Now that I'm older,
I know the books I read
Aren't written for me.
Now that I'm older,
I know suicide is real
And that it can affect anyone.
Now that I'm older,
I know that I'm nothing special.
Rachel Herrmann Jan 2015
Who is worthy?
How do I know?
I see so many others
That I know deserve
Only the best.
So why do I not.
Why do I see myself
As something less?
Am I wrong?
Am I bad?
Did I sin unforgivably?
Is there even such a thing
As unforgivable?
I forgive all,
Except for myself.
What different trait
Do I possess?
Is it just inevitability
That we all hate ourselves?
How do I learn
To let my wrongs go?
To accept the past
And be okay
With having a future?  
I say it's time,
Time to love.
Self-love.
Unconditional.
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