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Something you can't see
that falls to deaf ears
You'll never hear her screams
or see her clear tears

Every night she wishes
for the same bohemian things
Beauty, Love and Truth
in a melancholic rhapsody

Secrets and scars
usual occurences in her life
the moonlight and stars
Keeping her alive

She believed in silly fantasies
She reached for unattainable dreams
Her soul longs for so much more
but her heart can't settle the score

Drowning in emotional debt
due to her misplaced bets
too many things to do
the only person she wished for is you

To be able to hear her song
that had been playing all along
yet no one could hear or see
her heartbreaking scarred melody
 Jul 2013 Skye Applebome
Rlavr
You are having 4 AM breakfast with the girl of your dreams sitting a few meters away from you. You glance at her, intently focused on her paper, crumpling her forehead in frustration, and you realize that she is real. Real, with her stupid brown hair, and her impish smile; her eyebrows, arching up to look at you. Yes, she is not the girl of your life dreams. She is the girl that haunts the blissful world of your rest - she is the girl of your sleep dreams.
Random thoughts at 4 30 AM.
Mommy wrote me a letter, a personal letter
To read on her passing, something special just for me
A last us, reminder of her last thoughts about me
Dad stole it and copied it, from my room
Without permission, how dare he!
Now when he wants to control me, he uses mommies last words
And asks did she raise you wrong?, something wring in the sentence
Should it not be did we raise you wrong?
This is how he choose to love me, with guilt filled words he stole
The letter no longer special, it was meant to be
I don’t even have mommies ashes, her sister took care of that
In the end everyone fights over pieces of her
It was not enough when she lived
They have to tare her memory to pieces
Greed the master of my family
Lord help us
dear somebody
what great tragedy have befallen you
a tragedy so powerful you folded under the weight
a tragedy you gave all your power to
a tragedy that **** the life and joy from you
a tragedy that left me a broken, bitter, cold and empty father that is incapable of accepting and loving me
i have never known the safety and security of a dad
i have never known the joy of having a confidant in my father
i have never known the pride of knowing i'm your daughter

this brought mum so much heartache
she often just shook her head saying he was not like this before
she made so many excuses for you
ashamed that she could not save you
she lost to mammon
i don't believe you are save-able

thanks to all your "fatherly love" . . . . .

happy fathers day
 Jul 2013 Skye Applebome
Just Me
For Her

The call came late that night. The voice on the other end asks for him; he answers in the affirmative. It then proceeds to deliver the dreadful news.

At first he does not believe the voice. He asks it to repeat it self. It does, this time offering words or sympathy and comfort.

But it's to late. She is gone. There are no words of comfort, no spells, no nothing that can bring her back to him.

The phone falls to the floor with a sharp clatter; he with a soft thump. He stares blankly ahead as his brain works to understand, comprehend, believe what has happened.

DEAD

The Word rings through his mind, his body, his soul. It consumes him. He understands nothing else. It traps him in its hold till he is numb, then it releases him.

First comes the grief and the tears. It washes over him crippling him once more. The tears stain his cheeks forcing him to remember.

Then the rage. Rage so red, so hot, it burns the Word out. He begins to blame everyone and everything. How could this happen? How could Fate be so cold? He blames and blames till there is nothing left to blame.

The rage passes as the guilt begins to seep in. It starts at the skin and slowly makes its way to his core. She had done nothing to deserve this! It should have been him, not Her! She had been innocent!

As the guilt reaches his core, his thoughts take a deadly turn. He could step off a chair, pull a trigger, take pills. Anything to end this pain and join Her. He could flood the tube, cut till he bleeds out...

Suddenly a cool calming sensation washes over him. His thoughts begin to clear, his emotions begin to calm. Her voice whispers in his ear, soothing him, begging him not to join Her.

For Me. She whispers then fades.

Her words strength him. They lead him away from the Darkness and Guilt and Rage. For Her. For Her, he must continue.

Day after day he gets stronger. For Her. He tells himself. For Her. Week after week. For Her. Month after month. For Her. Year after year. For Her, he whispers.

Till one day he sees her. she looks the same as Her, walks and talks the same. But as he begins to learn about her, he realizes she is not Her. she is like Her but not Her.

Month after month and year after year. Finally he has a reason to live, a reason to fight.

He realizes that She was right all along. Her words were right, for time had passed and he had healed. However he would never forget her. Every now and then he whispers softly to the sky For Her, Thank You.

High above She gazes down at the small family. The family she could have had. But She has no regrets. He his happy and that is all that matters.

A smile tugs at Her lips as She watches him. Finally he had found peace. Finally he had found love. Finally he had healed.

She would forever gaze down to watch and protect for though he was happy She knew She would be *forever in his heart
Note the capitalized Her and She verses the lower case her and she. They are two different characters.
Her/She= one character
her/she=another character
Hope this makes sense. It should within the poem but if it doesn't feel free to comment the questions below or message me. Hope you enjoy.
Lily
This is the very last love poem
That I will ever write
As a cold wind blew into the room
Snuffing out loves candlelight
Can't say I saw it coming
Has anybody ever seen the wind
I guarantee between you and me
It will never pass this way again

This is the very last love poem
From me that you will ever read
If love was a garden
There'd be no one to tend it's needs
No one there to cultivate
Or plant loves newly purchased seeds
This is the last love poem I will ever write
Or that you will ever read from me
 Jul 2013 Skye Applebome
marina
(when i was little i used to
stare at the sun)

(i would outstretch my arms
until i swore i could touch it)

(the one time i got burned,
no one was there to catch me)

(and now)
i refuse to be
icarus.
i don't know if this makes any sense. butyeah- i'm really scared of becoming icarus.
kara made me realize i should probably explain icarus (thank you).  so in short, it's a myth- daedalus and icarus were father and son.  daedalus built his son a pair of wings so that he could escape the labyrinth he had built.  the wings were held together with glue; icarus was told that if he flew too close the sea the feathers would become wet and the wax would harden and he wouldn't be able to move the wings, and if he flew too close to the sun, the wax would melt and the wings would fall apart.  when icarus started to fly away, he became overwhelmed with excitement and in his joy continued to fly higher and higher in an attempt to conquer the skies.
but in the end, his father's warning rang true- the wax melted, the wings fell apart, and because of his inability to keep himself grounded, icarus fell.
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