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SAM Jan 2017
"Describe me"
"Describe me", he says.
He practically whispers it in my ear, spider legs crawl along my spine.
Brown hair, not very dark, but not light either. Cut short, so short the feeling of small spikes, buzzed.
Skin, pale. A living color yet light enough to see through when searched for.
Eyes are hazel, closer to brown. I wonder if they have ever cried since back then? Not black orbs that are too dark for any light, but neither light enough to see something shoking behind them. Muddied, an aray of colors, which color is true?
Nose is standard but used to smelling blood I bet, like a shark.
Lips pursed into a thin, pink line. Do you ever smile or only wear that mischeivous and knowing smirk?
Body and limbs, strong and long, fidgeting at your sides.
Hands, so cold but burn everything you touch. Your hands can heal as much as they bruise. Put a comforting touch on a wounded knee, then reach  a little higher.
Higher and higher, hands are never satisfied, always hungry, always wanting more. Touching things that they are not allowed to touch.
Breath burns my skin.
I exhale and speak.
SAM Jan 2017
Deep down, 50 feet underwater
down, down
in the depths of the water did your brother drown

And did you cry for him? did you mourn his loss?
watching your momma take a needle to arm if only to forget

Knowing that she lays on her back to pay the bills
son, where is your father?

Your tears became scars, your hurt became claws

And there you are tearing my apart, ripped at the seams
places I can't be touched, they can't see

I didnt mean to let you in,
I didn't know better

Too young to understand,
looks too grown for her own good

Oh dear boy you have a beast in your heart

Ripped my skin apart, but have no evidence to prove it
beyond it all, you had already won

You didnt need to **** me, and you didnt
you didnt need to touch me, oh but you did

Oh, you have a beast in your heart
poor boy, a beast in your heart
SAM Jul 2016
If you are loved by a writer, I do not believe that you will ever really die
For you live in every work they have ever written, poetry in their minds that they share with the minds of others.
Your breath is on each pen stroke, your image on each letter.
Your scent captured by the yellowing pages and soul can be found in the corners of each paper.
Your love recorded and felt by many, touching people who you have never met.
And even when you die, and the heart of your beloved writer stops beating, you live on in the words they have written.
You become immortal.
SAM May 2016
I look at her, waiting for her to say something.
her voice is a sound I crave, loving it when she screams.
I loved her tongue, which used to belong to me, it tasted like
red candy apples, the ones you get at a carnival.
the cinnamon would claw at the back of my throat, but I didn't care
I couldn't get enough.
your eyes are light, almost too light, blindingly so
where mine are dark, like the other side of the moon.
and how ironic is it that the universe would have us collide?
I huff
what? she says.
I notice her eyes are starting to lose their color
pale blue fading to grey, the color of a corpse.
I speak
leaving your body covered in marks.
I didn't mean to cut you, to make you bleed, to cause you pain
but I have a bad habit of destroying things are are not mine.
now your covered in red clay, I've painted you copper.
she speaks
don't leave I say, my hand extending forward
I burn her, but didn't mean to
the monster in my heart did that, not me
she screams from the touch
I should feel remorse but how can I when her scream sounds so lovely?
I can't bring myself to explain
she turns away, but I don't want her to go
please, save me I plead
She doesn't turn to face me again but I know
her eyes are white now, purer than the color of bone.
she leaves anyway
leaving me alone with her fading presence still lingering in the room,
enough to form a memory to bind her to.
she's might be gone but in my mind, she is there
with the others,
treasures I keep close.
I place her wings in my trophy case.
SAM May 2016
you look at me waiting to hear the next word
what do you want me to say?
my tongue is a bridge between truth and lies,
each word delicately placed but still at the edge of falling.
eyes shoot down only to look back up again.
moons dance in your eyes and I can't seem to touch them.
heat is pressed against me, insects crawl on my skin.
you huff
what? I say as my head snaps up
you look at me again,
moons are morphing into constellations
and I can't see you.
your tongue is sharp as it cuts me from left to right.
so sharp that I don't notice the pain
not until I see the trickle of blood flow across my pale skin,
I am the canvas you painted.
I am covered in rust, like an old car left outside for too long
forgotten as these years.
I need to wash myself
don't leave you say, with your hand reaching out,
you touch my arm and I holler in pain
a burn mark where you touched me so softly.
I look up, there are no longer stars gleaming, sparkling against the night sky but black voids in your eyes.
I need to leave
my hand grazes the golden door ****
the gold is soaking into my skin.
please, save me you say
sounding so smooth, so rehearsed.
I don't look back as the door behind me shuts
my eyes are open but suddenly I see.
SAM Sep 2014
She was a dancer
And I a writer  
Born of the same day
But different hours
Barely friends
But almost lovers
Destined to be connected
But never together
For I am winter
And she is summer
SAM Sep 2014
They are strange little things
Always biting
Leaving their crescent, jagged mark
Tough bone, made to last
They say a smile on your face
Is the most beautiful accessory
A person can have
But no perfect smiles are without
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