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Sarah Camacho Jun 2013
ninety-eight degrees.
one single minute of blood rushing to the heart.
calmly, you turn away
and resume your day.
i'm aware that your pulse
is more regular than mine.

you flashed a brilliant smile
and forced your thoughts upon my own.
my heart was a lovely red
and the sky was my home.

soon later, i saw the darkness you saw in others.
this darkness is quite the affliction.
it is a prescription gone horribly wrong;
costly and effective in ways i wasn't aware.

you see, it is a drug
but it is more so a shovel.
eyes shut, i create my own spot within the earth.

not six feet, not ten, not thirty
but a quaint place exculsively
for my ninety-eight degrees
and my darkness.

subconciously, i've allowed layer upon layer of earth
to compact upon me until i could not feel
one single minute of blood rushing to the heart.

ah, but your obligation has saved me.
you reminded me of how
my ninety-eight degrees, my darkness, and my blood
flows ultimately the same as everyone elses.

you must be a saint to leave me in this quaint spot,
beneath these compact layers of earth.
you set me down gingerly
and strode away with my heart.
my body is here,
but my mind is in the dark.

so thank you for allowing
these roots to wrap themselves around my back.
what an astounding notion
to paint my heart black.
for now i see the benefit in the game.
flying is overrated,
and to feel is a shame.
Sarah Camacho May 2013
Do you ever want someone's
arms around you so needily,
you feel alone without them?

You want their voice to
fill your thoughts to the brim
but instead,
you are empty.

Their love should warm you,
but you are without it;
cold and lifeless.
Sarah Camacho May 2013
you, to me are
warm hot cocoa
and staring deep
into a flickering fire

you, to me are
drops of rain that bring
cool serenity to my
hair and skin and bone.

you, to me are
beams of sun that
soak me to the core
and fill me with
hope for another day.

you, to me
is not as i to you.
what good is it if
i compare these thoughts for you?

no, i can't help you see.
i can't help you breathe.
i can't help you think.

i am empty space.
i am writer's block.
i am confusion.
i am really no help and
no good at all.

you, to me are
warmth and
serenity and
hope -

and i for you,
would do anything.
Sarah Camacho Mar 2013
If the pain you've given me were to be
measured in droplets of water,
a sea would form before us and
i can only hope you drown
very,
very
slowly.
Sarah Camacho Mar 2013
br e aath e
me in and
let me go

say you love me but
don't forget
i won't forget
the things i know

the things you've said
the things you've done

you may be mine but
we're not one

i have thoughts and
i have words

you may have my heart so long as
i may have yours
Sarah Camacho Mar 2013
help me
fly from here
open up my mind and
dissect my thoughts

help me
see beyond it
take me from this place
before i'm destined to rot

help me
discover full potential
show me there's more than
what i've sought

help me
darling, please

help me
Sarah Camacho Mar 2013
It’s a weird feeling.

    To feel like you’re losing bits
    and pieces of yourself
    every day.

    Every moment,

    sitting back and watching it happen
    unable to stop
    or pull yourself away.

    It’s a weird feeling, to say the least.

— The End —