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Salomé Albrecht Aug 2014
I'm a servant to my dreams
As bitter as it seems
I'd say no, not today it isn't

Assumptions you made to pain
the every word that comes out
of your mouth, that falls from
your lips so to say

I'm a servant to my memories
As bitter as it seems
I'd say no, not today it isn't

Throw away the regret
left on the outside of my own
faceless fears and weaknesses
Salomé Albrecht Aug 2014
Tap, tap, and tap faster now
to the beat she’d exclaim

Her fingers would dance over black and white keys
as her expression screamed passionate
She held herself up with ease, dressed in love
Poise could very well be her middle name
Patience and respect dangled, I imagined
from her tousled brown hair
Laughter to be thankful for in her piano lesson

Clap, clap, and clap faster now
to the beat she’d exclaim

- salome albrecht
For my piano teacher.
Salomé Albrecht Aug 2014
Awake to your heart beating
      in your stomach, in your thoughts, in your skin,
wildly
      Awake to your fingers clasping your
own chin
     As what sounds like another man
but isn't, he's you
     screams aloud words you can't make out
Awake to your chest in a cold sweat

Only then,
Awake and
tell me
about your
so called
          nightmares

- salome albrecht
Salomé Albrecht Aug 2014
"Amy's eyes are the color
of loneliness
If loneliness were a color"

So they said, but who were they anyway
to judge a girls face

I had thought until the very day
loneliness caught my eyes
and held my  stare

My heart sank and I was apprised
Of the loneliness trapped
in those young girls eyes
Salomé Albrecht Aug 2014
Six O’clock knocking on the shadow
of an older generation
He’s blind, imprisoned
after a lifetime of adventure
Screaming out loud
through his expression, motionless
Mr. Lovemore,
blind grey eyes capture me and leave me heartbroken
Fascinated by the walk of his past,
he’s a teacher , I’ll push him in a wheelchair
He can imagine I’m pushing him through Africa
Six O’clock, a listener
as I read out loud to him, old aged

- salome albrecht
I went to visit an old aged home a year or so ago where I ended up reading to Mr.Lovemore, a blind man. I wish I had gone back a couple more times, he had so many stories to tell me. Many more than I could read to him.

— The End —