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Rebecca McDade Feb 2014
I want to be the quiet girl
   who every boy falls in love with.
I want my sideways smile
   to steal the hearts
   of anyone who steals a glance
   at it from the side.
I want to be fragile,
   so that people want to
   take care of me
   as soon as they see me
   with my knees curled up
   on a chair that is too big.
I want to be the stuff of novels,
   and of films,
   and of love songs
   whose melodies are
   picked out on a guitar.
I want the idea of me
   to be so delicate
   and so alluring
   that I’ll never have to worry
   about being hurt.
I want to be a beautiful
   heart breaker -
   the one that they tell their
   brothers, mothers, and sons about.
I want to be
   what they describe as
   the best thing that ever happened
   to them.
I want to be
I want to be
I want to be all the things I’m not.
Korey Miller Oct 2012
he was nearly twentynine and he still hadn't figured himself out,
still dedicated nights to the process of tearing up his moral ground,
laying his foundation, caught up in vacillation
between acts of possible valor- the ones to turn his life around.

he knew he would know somehow when he finally got it right
he was looking for that one sign-
the one they talk about in movies and
all the books which leave you shattered at the end,
the ones no one else has read but those who do
swear upon like they've never heard of the bible,
try to imitate the main character,
stumble into chaos and think they'll end up all right,
like in the movies-
a lucky plot twist and they'll own the night.

he wandered aimlessly,
up until the sun came out and the vampires went to sleep,
accompanied by cigarettes and the sound of his own head,
burned dirt and the cold of the city,
until the time of night where his words stalled
brain froze
and the space in his head became suddenly visceral,
paralyzed by feeling until his tongue and the roof of his mouth
sought each other out, pressed in a warm embrace
until the pain went away
until he closed up the wound behind his eyes
forgot the torment of seeing
until the night tore him open again.
Rebecca McDade Feb 2014
Count the times
that you feel fine,
and hang them on
a long wire line,
and hang that wire
above your bed
right above
your resting head,
and watch those
memories you keep
help you calm
yourself to sleep,
and remind you
when your day’s not bright
that your world is filled
with small bright lights.
Wordfreak  Sep 2017
Counting
Wordfreak Sep 2017
One round
In the chamber,
Thirty in the magazine,
One moment makes a lifetime,
Two seconds taken to breath.
Three brothers at my back,
Four wolves in the hunt.
Five miles to ruck before rest,
Six hours to sleep tonight.
Seven days left for another week,
Eight civillians lost as collateral.
Nine houses cleared without incident,
The Tenth is where they're waiting.
Eleven minutes for the firefight,
Twelve rounds taken to the legs.
Thirteen minutes until Medevac arrives,
Fourteen month recovery.
Fifteen minutes left before lights out.

Mag is half full.

Sixteen hours to rest and clean weapons,
Seventeen men play cards in the barracks
Eighteen minutes left during fire guard,
Nineteen year old soldiers miss their family.
Twenty minute call home to loved ones.
Twentyone shots over a white headstone.
Twentytwo streets left to clear before dusk,
Twentythree families bustle in the bazaar.
Twentyfour hours in each day in hell.
Twentyfive men craving cigarettes.
Twentysix reports of gunfire this morning.
Twentyseven combatants killed.
Twentyeight days left in deployment.
Twentynine years old at honorable discharge,
30 family members waiting to welcome you home.
31 days in every month spent in the devil's sandbox.

Click
Mag is empty.
Drop mag
Draw new mag
Load into well
Hit bolt release
*Continue fighting

— The End —