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Sierra Primus Feb 2017
As I sit here
Watching the clock melt, like a Salvador Dali painting
The seconds and the minutes dripping down the wall.
The hours burning holes in my brain

All the time that I've allowed to pass
Without wanting to use it
Yet being afraid of it running out,
Of not having any time left to experience
When all along,
I could've put out the flames
That started in my head.

I have too many clocks
Reminding me of how much time I've wasted
How often I could've gotten in the car
Taken the road less traveled by,
Or gone the extra mile.
They say it's never crowded
But how am I to know
When I can't even clear the traffic jam in my mind?

As I sit here
Contemplating my worth, based on time used
I wonder how often the living truly live
Knowing that it is much more likely
That they are just shells of children
That were once alive.
The children that got lost
Staring at the overworked hands of Father Time

As I take the clock off the wall
And add it to my drawer of reminders,
I begin to wish that time didn't exist
Or rather, that we hadn't created it
Because too often I find myself walking the line
Between memorizing every detail of the clock
And ignoring its existence altogether.
  Jul 2016 Sierra Primus
There are hallways
and there are rooms.
Roads connecting to homes.
Paths leading to villages.

Vacant spaces brining me to nowhere.

Veins are lines on a map,
we are more than just bodies.
We are unfolded pieces of paper
creased in the corners with relevant urge.
With crests and valleys composed of experiences
and dreams
and adventure.

I have yet to unfold.

Doors whisper,
they invite you in.
So many locks and keys
and treasure chests full of passion
of determination
of unwavering will.

I’m locked and no key has ever fit.

Footsteps are history in the making.
Proof of the reason you stayed;
the reason you left.
The carved sand along the shore
making you wonder if they are running away
or going home.

I turn to only find my shadow.

Maps full
of all these hallways and rooms
and reasons
and unopened treasure chests.
Missing keys and ghostly whispers
before every door
and I begin to wonder
whether or not I was begging please
to the slurring headlights down the midnight road
or to somebody who could save me.
There comes a point when you need to realize that sleeping isn't a cure to anything.
Sierra Primus Jul 2016
My body aches.
It aches for your touch,
Your lips on my neck
Your hands on my hips,
Your chest against my chest.

My body aches
To feel your breath on my skin
To feel you pulling me closer
To feel your hands in my hair,
Your heartbeat in sync with mine.

I miss your voice;
Your touch, your smell.
I miss your rough hands
And your soft touch.

I long to trace your scars
To memorize your imperfections and
To be the reason you want to be better.
I want you to want me like I want you.
Sierra Primus Jan 2016
They were friends before Kindergarten, he and her
Long before either of their troubles would occur.
Laughing and playing from night until day
Neither of them thinking that the other would stray.
When elementary school started, they were the best of friends
But his parents were having trouble making amends.
When his father left the scene, he became home schooled
And for being his friend, she became ridiculed.

But not caring about the opinion of others,
She continued to think of him as one of her brothers.
By the end of elementary school, she was his only friend
But at the start of middle school her popularity began to ascend.
When middle school came about, it was as if she had been crowned
And slowly he began to seep into the background.
The years went on and it seemed as though he had disappeared
Which had been on the top of the list of things he feared.

What he did not know, was that his disappearances caused her grief
And despite her mother and father's warnings, she became a thief.
Being reckless and silly caused her mother's death
And her sadness had almost caused her own last breath.
After the tragedy, he came back to public school, hearing of her devastation
Soon after his timely return, he became her rock, her foundation.
She had crumbled on the inside, getting into alcohol and drugs
Walking around empty and lost, living life as if she were wearing earplugs.

For the rest of middle school through the end of high,
She was living in her mind, her life flying by.
He finally convinced her that she needed to change
Because she was being perceived as strange.
It took her a while to realize that she
Cared for him more than anybody.
The two eventually got together
Attracted to each other like birds to a feather.

They married young and had a child
Who looked like his mother an d always smiled,
The older they became, the more she remembered
That in her younger years she was very dismembered.
She thanked him every day
For saving her when she had gone astray
He told her that is was her friendship that he was defending
And their love was completely unending.
Sierra Primus Jan 2016
A new car without a horn
An old dress that was never worn.

A book with no pages
A year without ages.

A pen with no ink
The sunset without pink.

Love with no hearts
A play with no parts.

A desert without dunes
A night with no moons.
Sierra Primus Jan 2016
To promise is to create a bond,
A bond which cannot be broken
Except by lies and by hate.
So today I will make a promise to you.

I promise to be your's forever,
I promise to never say never.
I promise to put differences aside,
And to hold you through this wonderful ride.
I promise to stay fair and true,
And I promise that there is none other than you.

This promise I'm making is special.
It is real and genuine and your's to keep.
This might seem a nit overwhelming,
But, in short, I am saying:

I promise to love you, for you.
Sierra Primus Jan 2016
Keeping myself sane
And living the life of the insane.
Keeping my life,
And saving my sanity, but
Sanity does not exist.
However, being insane is very real, for
Insanity is the King of the subconscious.

— The End —