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Rachel Mary Oct 2016
i write from the 1st of october. i write from cold air and turning seasons. from hazy days and lazy days and 'maybe things will be okay's. i write from stale bread and cold tea cause id made it at half past three, and the wind is blowing.
and i want to wear my dads big old fairisle jumper because somehow, it always smells of him. and the wind is blowing.
i write from the 1st of october. i write from endless evenings and too many cigarettes and a craving for my mothers supermarket box wine. i write from tired eyes and floaty songs and i write because im feeling fine. and time is passing before my eyes and it makes me feel uneasy because these are the years i want to remember. the 1st of octobers and 6th of februraries and 27th of mays. and all the other days.
i write from the 1st of october. i write from awful poetry and laddered tights and dreams about boys that got lost in the city. in more ways than one.
i write from the 1st of october, and the wind is blowing.
Rachel Mary Aug 2016
once more unto the breach dear friends
of sharing all my words
i dont percieve it as means to an end
just a way for me to learn

i'll make waterfalls with  syllables
and streams with every line
and once you reach the end,
you'll be in an ocean thats all mine

you'll lap across my sandy shores
and wash up on my bay,
and when you think you're ready,
i will come to you and say

hello my friend, and how are you
i heard the news, now is it true?
i hope you'll have a lovely stay
on sandy shores upon my bay
Rachel Mary May 2014
impress your fellow flawed
dress your body's doors
lock them with the key
of innocence and pity
flee to the beginning
then run towards the end
make yourself a burden
be true, or false; pretend.
enforce a fake persona
imply the things you arent
dont offer any shoulders
you arent 'agony aunt'
be selfish and be brittle
remember to be blunt
dont hum or sing or whistle
*** u lol ur a ****
Rachel Mary Feb 2014
once there was a time
when you looked at me from far
our eyes would meet from across the room , and we both felt it.
i admired everything you showed me, said to me , told me;you inspired me.
you inspire me.
i would often want to touch you , not for lust , but to feel the heat from your body , the soft of your skin , just something to remind me that you are still human , like me,and her,and him.
i would wrap myself in the idea of you ,  become the things you liked, talk to you about things nobody else did. i wasn't falling in love with you , but it was similar.
you told me that you really cared about me , that you thought i was different, cool - the only person you made an effort with . it made me happy.
you made me happy.
it felt like the spirits in our bodies had  mixed, you were half of me and i was half of you. however this feeling was not romantic . i didnt want you to notice me , although i knew you did . i didnt want you to look at me and tell me that you think i'm beautiful, i knew you didnt . i didnt want to be your girlfriend , or hold your hand and flirt with you . this feeling was neither love, nor lust , and it didnt even feel like friendship . the only way i could try to describe it is merely a connection.

but it's gone now,
along with our stability.
Rachel Mary Nov 2013

  the colour of your eyes

           the way you laugh

                    the music you like

                              the time you sleep

are very important
      to those

                        who fall in love with you
i dont know and neither do you
Rachel Mary Nov 2013
the trees that root in this sinful ground
are obvious and just
the churches in this run down town
are shelter for the lust;
the lust of greed , and lust of life
where a girl becomes a wife
these buildings are so holy,
yet full of nothing but evil
and still the trees are victims
to this bitter and great society
the lunatics call religion
Rachel Mary Nov 2013
i crave his body and his thoughts ,
the way he looks at me
i crave his kisses and his touch,
things that i value oh so much

and there are many miles between us
and many miles are so,
but there are trains and there's a bus
that take away my woe

to not see him is to be lone
upon this spinning ball
but he is what i want and need
when with him, i'm home
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