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Charlotte Jan 2018
When you’re not around,
I can’t stop myself from imagining
our future.

A little brick house
with a white picket fence and
two kids running around -
playing in a tree house.

Your smile could be my
favourite thing to come home to -
going on drives to the beach
on summer nights
diving into the
ocean feeling nothing but
safety and security because
you’re by my side.

I would trust you
with our children,
let you place rings on
my finger and
take care of you
when you need it most -

you just
need to let me.
idk just feeling the love
Charlotte Jan 2018
Light me up like a cigarette -
I’ll be the smoke you swallow in your lungs
and I’ll be the toxin that kills you
as you take your last breath.
Charlotte Jan 2018
we dance under the moonlight
until my mother
can forget the sin of
marrying my father.
Charlotte Dec 2017
The world watches you fall,
the largest proven oil reserves
but you couldn’t call out to your brothers
acknowledge your mistake
so that you may grow.

You **** children,
hunger grips every mother
and fathers struggle with
children of eight trying to earn a wage.

Your country is ****** up
holding it pride to its chest
waving the flag never admitting that
their force has killed eight thousand
or that their children are in hospitals
starving.

Kenyerber Aquino Merchán,
less than two starved to death
because hospitals have no formula
to feed the innocent.

Spine and rib cage protruding,
mourners with wildflowers from the hills,
and relatives cut out a pair
of cardboard wings from
empty white ration boxes.

Let you pass away,
sleeping now under my wings,
we’ll conger the wind
and ease the president's pride,
he is hiding under the cover
cowering the corner -
he has no one else to blame.
I broke down in tears writing this - I wrote it because of this article https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/12/17/world/americas/venezuela-children-starving.html - I don't know how to help because the president refuses to accept international help apart from loans from Russia which barely hold the country a float. So I did the only thing I know how to do to help - write.
Charlotte Dec 2017
I have a sign on my chest
that says "trespassers
welcome."

It's written in red ink,
the cheap kind that never really dries
and with each new boy
that invites himself into my home,
the letters become smudged.

I try to remove the sign
but it remains there
etched into my skin
and the more I pull at my skin
the stronger the pain
in my chest grows.

Trespassers are only temporary
and I pray that one day
they will stop reading my body
as an open invitation but

until that day.
My chest
will be painted
​red.
Charlotte Dec 2017
men who slam doors,
punch walls
are just making sure you hear
how much they want to
                                          hit
                                                you
                                                      instead.
Charlotte Dec 2017
I’m sure sometimes even
doctors
have to practice
telling bad news,

until eventually they
think they’re desensitised.
But I’ve seen when
they have to tell themselves
it’s a just story,
to deliver it without crying too.

A little vial of blood
determined the difference between
losing life and growing it.

You were something I never thought I’d have,
the news was delivered like a punch to my ribs,
even after the fist had left
I still felt the pain between each breath.

You
could have been gorgeous,
could have smiled at me from bed
every step of mine reminds me
of the ones you will never take
could have laughed at school and
become the cure to our misery.

Instead, you became the cause;
a tender bruise too new to touch,  
a ripping of my stitches,
the beginning of my end.

To this day
I imagine your smile
in every baby.
I hear your every laugh and every cry
through them —
every video of first steps
reduces me to tears
for they,
could have been yours.

It’s cruel of mother nature,
to remind us
something as common as life
can be so precious, so fragile
that just a crack in the window

in a sheet of glass,
thin as my patience,
lies  between
life and death
and can leave us both
breathless.
Losing a life is hard
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