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 May 2015 Shuvangi Khadka
mel
lately it's been a mix of cold hellos and trying to drown out the unnerving voices inside my head telling me it's the perfect day to ******* and die. mostly, it's the latter. my teacher taught me that every 10 years our skeletal system regenerates itself and we, in the literal sense, become new people again. it's been eleven since you left and i still can't get the scent of you off my skin. how long does it take for a person to forget someone who made them feel like the neon lights that led to home? the answer is twenty bottles of ***** and a stranger's body to kiss, maybe even to hold afterwards. breakup ***, makeup ***, **** me til i pass out ***, it doesn't even feel the same without you ***, just come back i miss you so much i don't know who this person is please come back ***. my hands are weak and my body is shaking as if the tremors that quaked california five days ago were suddenly reincarnating as the sobs in my head. twenty bottles, eleven years, i'm still counting, still counting, still counting, still counting. i don't know what i'm waiting for.
Your poetry is like
Stockholm Syndrome,
I'll follow you 'til I die...
Rest. You did well
Today.
Smiled when you didn't have
To. Worked when you
Didn't want to.
Rest. You

Left nothing for the next day  
That was truly
Critical.
You've earned

All the trust that tomorrow
Requests;  
The hopes you have for it seen as
Solid matter.

Listen to the wind moving
The branches of the Tree of Time.
It sings of you.
It sings of how good you are
At Life.

Listen.
Listen and
Rest. Rest
Knowing you can do it.  
You already are.
death of a poet,
in retrospect
it starts out
ever so gradually,
ink dries up
without warning,
and veins purged
of blood, are now empty
chambers of depleted poetry
 Apr 2015 Shuvangi Khadka
Kristin
Leaving had always been an easy concept for me to grasp
Especially when my dad left
And I was left with nothing but sad, withered letters
And the instillment of trust issues was ****** upon me.
It was even easier when I found out my grandpa left my grandma
The one healthy relationship I had held onto falling apart before my eyes
And yes, although they are still together
Every time I ask about my grandpa to my grandma
I can see in her eyes that she wished things went differently,
That maybe if he had asked to marry her
Then maybe she wouldn't be second guessing if he loved her everyday.
Maybe I truly understood the art of leaving when
My stepfather kept leaving at regular hours during the day
And coming home and odd hours of the night
And my mom was left to cry in our bathroom
While I called my brother on the phone begging him to make me understand what was happening,
Until all my brother could say was, "Kris..."
And I knew, just knew, this was him breaking my mother's heart
For the second time in her life.
With you, I began to understand that leaving happens in two parts
Emotionally and physically.
I felt you leave emotionally
So I was the one that left physically.
And now that I know you'll never be in my life again
And I left my heart with you
The art of leaving has become a foreign concept to me.
How does someone just leave?
How do I leave when so much of me is left in you?
She sat beside me in a cloud of smoke,
Ash falling to my knees like a tree that just gave up on standing straight
And finally lay its head on the ground.
I am tired of feeling rooted in an earth I no longer believe in;
Tired of climbing trees to defy gravity and I know I can't win.
Not this fight, nor the next, or even a game of poker as my lips
Just can't stand being straight.

I am that fallen tree and sometimes I forget to breathe,
Leaving each breath like my car keys you tell me I don't need.
Who needs the earth when I have you landscaped before me?
These foundations are ours and you build me these walls
Just so I can knock them down.

I'm destructive like that, we are indestructible like that
So lets take a page from my book and draw ourselves a map
Right to this moment in time,
Where I whisper *"I've fallen for the girl, and you know what?
It's fine."
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