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 Feb 2012 Scott Swanger
Makiya
I can hear my voice:
it crackles like
burning
paper.
 Jan 2012 Scott Swanger
Odi
I heard my brittle bones breaking in your hands
As I collapsed
collapsed
I thought I was made of steel
Or rubber
something that bends.
But never
breaks
Your hands were not comforting they
seemed all too steady
and your voice
was too robotic
When asking me to
Breathe
How could you ask me such a thing?
At a time like that?
have you no heart?

I don't cry in-front of people
You could've had the decency to leave me broken
On the kitchen floor,
So I could carry on saying that
"I never really cry..."
as a testament to my strength

But you had to grab my bruised wrist's
and push denial away
"Shhh..its okay."
  I could've held on a little longer
Had I known
You weren't here to
stay
I'm done



with love.

with you
and
you

and you



and especially
you.


I don't need ***
i don't want
skin

i tear it all
away



and start over



but

please know

that i'm sorry
that i hurt you


but from the start,
i told you

that the boys fall in love with me

and i never love them back.
tall and soft,
strong and low
exciting and down to earth
quiet and thoughtful
kind and sweet

shy
but
so very

honest

and

smells like
lying in the grass

my first boyfriend, Jimmy Brennen
whose sweatshirt always smelled of cheetos
and Axe

or the man who sat on the waterrushed rocks
and kissed me,
tongue tasting of
lake water


or when i held a girl's (Debbie's)
breast
cupped in my hand for the first time,
pressed closely together in secret
how wonderfully soft and warm


but
this person

doesn't even have to

touch me

and i smile from

ear to ear
just looking at

his

hands
.
ever cared to find
your rent due,
on this planet?
There was nothing plastic
About the way your smile showed
Or about the way your arms felt
But a voice in the back of my head told me so
And last weekend
I melted a carpet I thought was wool
You could have fooled me
Except now there is a hard, shiny, iron-shaped mark
Plastered into the carpet's soft mat
To be honest, I was a little disgusted
When I pulled the iron away and found
Strings of green and red clinging to it like bubblegum
And to be honest, I felt a little disgusted with myself
Not to mention you
When I left a handprint in your soft back
And strings of skin still sticking to my palm
Prove you, my little plastic boy, are just a doll
By all the tests that matter
A human illusion too easily destroyed
By an excess of warmth
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