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sometimes late at night,
around three in the morning or so,
i pretend that you are by my side.
i use your old pillow to wrap my arms around,
and put my ear to the cold cloth
but can’t hear your heartbeat,
a once familiar sound.
i can’t feel the rise and fall of your chest
beneath my cheek where I’ve placed my head,
or your fingers dancing
over my exposed flesh.
your warm lips don’t brush mine,
and I can’t taste your sweet breath
but in the dark of night,
when the world is fast asleep,
and I am most vulnerable,
it is at that moment where
i most want your arms around me,
keeping me safe and secure,
because though I pushed you away,
i only ever wanted you here.
 Dec 2013 sleepyphantoms
SES
This is my letter to you,
you will never read it
unless by some tragedy
my phone is laid open to the world.

I want you to know
you
are
worthy.

You worthy of love,
and a father,
and place to call home.

Lay your head down
and let me tell you a story
of a boy who felt the weight
of the world.
Nothing like Atlas
the Titan.
But he felt the weight
of his very own,
surprisingly tragic,
world.

He dealt with the issues
that plague us all.
And he took them all in stride.
Sure, he made mistakes
but who can throw a stone?
He feels the haunting
of his past
every day.
The remarkable thing is,
he keeps going.
This boy stays strong.
He believes in something more
even if he doesn't believe in himself.

The hate,
and sorrow,
and guilt,
and anger,
and depression
he feels hurt those who care for him
because they know that he is so much more
than the ugliness he sees reflected.
I actually wrote this in August oops!
 Dec 2013 sleepyphantoms
SES
Tell me when.
That's a common enough phrase.
Is this enough dressing?
Tell me when.
Is this enough to drink?
Tell me when.

But curiously,
it's never used when we really need it.
Is this enough pain?
Tell me when.
Can you handle more sorrow?
Tell me when.
Is your plate full of enough worries?
Tell me when.
You want to be happy for a few days?
Then tell me when to end the pain.
You want your heart to soften?
Tell me when to stop hardening it.
You want to be free?
Tell me when to start trusting you.
You want to grow up?
Tell me when to let you make your own mistakes.
Tell me.
Tell me.
Tell me when you've had enough.
Please, please tell me when your back is about to break.
I'm asking you to tell me when your arms are too heavy
with the burdens that keep being laid on top of your bruised and broken skin.
Tell me when and I'll give you back your childlike hope.
Tell me when and I'll let it be okay.
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