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Rachel Rode May 12
The purple sweater hangs in the closet,
In the back where painful memories hide.
Its fabric still soft,
Her scent still barely there.
But its sleeves remain empty,
Without hope of animation.
An artifact of a time gone by

If you hold your breath,
You can almost hear her laughter.
If you squint,
You can almost see her smile.
But only for a second

You slip it over your shoulders
And breathe through the sharp pain in your chest
It feels like breaking,
But it feels like healing too.
It always hurts,
But so do most things worth remembering.
Rachel Rode Jun 2018
I think the saddest part is that a part of me still wants to forgive you

A part of me is still carrying a torch for the man you once were

The man you could be again

But you and I both know how you feel about change

You and I both know how you feel about me

You say that you love me

The words drip from your mouth like honey

Sticky sweet and sickening

This is not love

And it hasn't been for quite some time

This is obsession, this is infatuation, this is lust

You don't miss me, you miss how willing I was to take off my clothes

To open myself up to you, bare my body and soul to you

Primal and disgusting and everything you wanted

You miss my passivity

My fear of the word "no"

My fear of disappointing you

You tell me I've changed

You don't recognize that you are the one who changed me

You set this house of my heart ablaze and I have risen from the ashes

I am no longer what I once was, not anymore
Rachel Rode Jun 2018

I am somewhere deep within my mind

Curled up tighter than the grip of your hand around my neck

I am trying to forget

But the memories are vivid like blood on crisp white sheets

I close my eyes

But you wait behind my eyelids

I scream at you to go until my voice is hoarse

But you remain


I begged you not to lie to me

But that's all you did

I used to ache for you

Our desire so hot  

Just a glimpse could ignite the dry pine forests around us

Now the thought of you is like ice forming around my bones

You make me sick and I can no longer stand the sight of you


Leave me alone
Rachel Rode Jun 2018
My greatest fear has always been

Having someone love me  

And not being able to love them back

I know that ache, that cold burning pain

I know the way throats tighten at the words

Maybe we should just be friends

So when I saw that look in your eyes I ran

I was so afraid of hurting you

But in my fear I destroyed us both

You asked me to love you  

And I tried

I ate fallen stars in an attempt to grant your wish

But all it did was burn me from the inside out

I'm sorry
Rachel Rode Jun 2018
heavy wind

cold rain

and yes, the stars

and yes, these hands of mine

a dream in my chest is molting

my dream sheds its muddy thunder-stained skin

and asks for a heart of sunflower fields this time

and the nights get heavy

like they always do

I am older which means

when I think of forests I get stuck

not on the robin eggs

but on the fox teeth

in my head I am hunting for myself

but I come up empty again

the night grows so wide it could be a cavern

and I am somewhere underneath it, inside it, lost

but travelers always leave lanterns behind

and as I feel for the candle  

there arrives a memory of bronze colored light

so I dream

I dream

I keep dreaming

one word in my mouth crystallizes like sugar

Rachel Rode Jun 2018
Nefarious shivers devouring aurora

Passion repeated itself faster than history

Now is not the time to be demure

Now is not the time to be modest

She sways like waves swimming under her lover's hands

Again and again she pulls me under

Again and again I drown

Love has nice hearts and breaks them all just to prove a point

She refuses to see herself for the murderer that she is

She is anarchy of the power for those in need

I prefer admiration

Pray at the altar of my body as I come undone

Make me forget what I once was

Make me forget whatever we could have been

All of my ballads are doused in agony

The edges of tempests meet and even the chorus melts

The way she looks at me is almost angelic
Rachel Rode Jun 2018
Black asphalt

Damp bicycle tires

Sparkling trees

The whole of the street scene is blurry and softened

As though covered in a layer of oil paint

The barefoot laughing, no-longer-dry-mouthed children are dancing in backyards

Kicking up mud and dirt with reckless abandon

We dream of moments like these

So soft they live on in memories  

Like down feathers on strong wide wings

Sweet-smelling, heather-scented moments

These moments of gentle, dawn-colored rain

Can you feel how your withered heart opens up?

It's ready to heal
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