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 Jun 2015 smallblank
Hallee
let's get drunk and tell eachother everything we're afraid to say sober. and by that I mean you sit and listen to everything I'm angry about. if your voice mail was set up it would probably be full of venom. id like to repeat to you every lie you ever told me over and over again until you're sobbing. remember when you told me I was the last girl for you? that's my favourite. sometimes I read the letter you sent to me and I can't help but laugh. thanks for proving "just because they said I love you first doesn't mean they'll love you last" is true. what's it like realizing you let the best thing that ever happen to you go? I hope you're happy settling for second best. remember that time you chose drugs over me? I can't keep count. I'd like to pretend that you really care how I'm doing but I get the feeling we both know it's not true. remember that time I told you to run if you were going to leave because it was now or never? you told me the same thing; your now must have been more extended than mine. sometimes it comforts me to know we live under the same sky, then I think about the time you told me you would box the sky up for me if you could. how does it feel to know I can't see a sunset without cringing?
 May 2014 smallblank
g
I'll never forget the way the sun
Hits your eyes, but I've
Forgotten the shade of
Ocean they resemble.

I fell in love with the trail
Of flowers that led from
Your grandmother's garden and
To your father's old wooden
Front door, through the kitchen
We once danced in and into
Your bedroom.

On days I cannot forget you,
I scrub a little harder in the shower.
I'm sure you no longer have
Your fingertips lost somewhere
Between my pores
(Better safe than sorry,
Like you always said).

You left me breathless from the
Day you told me I never
Deserved what he had done,
To the day you told me I never
Deserved you, either.

I sometimes catch myself
Screaming your name
In my dreams.
 Apr 2014 smallblank
JDK
Lacuna
 Apr 2014 smallblank
JDK
I swear I used to care
before I met you.
There was nothing left
after all you put me through.
They say I'm better off
but I seriously doubt it.
You stole all of my sympathy
and now I'm lost without it.
 Apr 2014 smallblank
JDK
How did it happen?
I didn't even like you at first,
and now you're the first thing I think of when I wake up,
if I wasn't already dreaming of you while I slept.
When I look into your eyes I feel short of breath.

I want you the way suicidals want death.

But I cannot have you, and I resent the fact
that you somehow stole my heart and now won't give it back.
And yet, if I had you I know I wouldn't want you anymore.
I'd come to loathe you in the way that a child hates chores.
But you've melded to my mind;
you're burned into my brain.

I want you the way that a moth wants the flame.

It's a paradoxical ache.
A feeling so strange.
In the English language it doesn't even have a name,
but I believe this is what the french refer to as
the exquisite pain.
 Mar 2014 smallblank
g
Rewind to the first day you
Asked me to marry you.
It was raining, I wanted to kiss you.

December of our first year married;
You woke me up every morning
To watch the snow fall.
I rolled my eyes as you
Watched like a child.
You looked at me the same way.

Our first Christmas together was
About the same. It was
Only two years prior to our marriage
And you bought me a necklace.
I wore it every day
Until the day you left.
I hope the river likes jewelry
As much as I did.

Fast forward to our
Second spring together.
You pulled the car over on the side
Of the road to pick a wild flower.
We were already running late.
We always seemed to do
Everything too late.

Fourteen and a half days later
You told me you wanted me
To buy a nice dress for myself
And meet you at a restaurant.
I told you no,
I had work in the morning.
You drank every night
For a month after that.

You sang to my small unborn baby
Bump every night before bed.
Our next trip to see our baby's face
Did not go as planned.
You never could get me out of that
Black dress after her wake
And your eyes matched it
Perfectly every day after.

Fast forward to the day before you
Asked me to sign the divorce papers.
We made love.
I cried and said "this isn't working."
You said "I know."

I could hear you cry from the
Other side of the bed
And your hands felt miles away.
I remembered the first time
You touched me this way,
Long before your hands
Were calloused.
We were Hell bent on doing it
And I could hear the same lack
Of hesitation in your voice when
You said you had to leave.

Flash back to the first time I told you
I loved you.
I said it too soon. You said it back,
I didn't expect you to.

You left your ring on the
Coffee table our last night.
Suddenly I missed the rings
Of condensation marking the
Table every night and the
Clanking noise your ring
Finger made against the beer
Bottles after every fight.

I wish I could have been enough
To stop you from drinking.
I remember when you drove away.
"Turn around and beg me to stay.
Turn around and beg me to stay."
You didn't turn around and
I did not stay.

I passed the garden we were
Married in on my way to the court
House to sign the final papers.
A couple was leaving, newly wedded.
I find irony in that.

A few years later I passed you
On the street.
It was snowing, you had that same
Look in your eyes.
You smiled at me, a distant
"I'm sorry," smile.
I nodded, but I could not smile back.
You see, I never stopped loving you,
But I was never sorry for
Letting you leave.

I still find your cuff links buried
In my jewelry box some days.  
This is the day I watched the
Locket you gave me
Sink to the bottom of a river.
I think you could find my
Hope lying there, too.

Remember the time you kissed me
In the rain?
First slow and timid, then
Passionate as if it was the
Last time we would ever kiss again.
I apologized thirteen times that day
For things that had
Not happened yet.

I think a piece of me knew all along
I would have to let you leave.
The day I said good bye
The words burned my lips
Like acid exactly like they did that day.
I said "I'm sorry."

Seven hours staring at empty
Beer bottles as you
Slam them on the table.
In fact, it's been months since
You slammed anything but beers
And I think that is where
We started to fall apart.

Three years since you left and
I cannot bring myself to love another.
I bet she is beautiful and
Kind and loving and
I bet she does not cause you to
Drink until you cannot feel.
Three years later and I realize now that
I will love you until I die.
 Mar 2014 smallblank
g
An earthquake for every single
Time you said "I love you,"
And it went unnoticed.

Is it chronophobia,
Or is it the fear that time will
Run out for us both?
The earthquakes will become
Forest fires and
You will forget me.

I am going crazy imagining
The shape of your lips
When you whimper for me to
Stop the pouring rain.

Shaking fists and broken glass;
I wish you'd lower your voice
And lower your walls before
The wind takes us both.


Sit up straighter, don't let them
Know he took your frame and
Smashed it against the wall.
"I'd calm the storm if I could,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Will your ghost be joining us for
Dinner, or have you finally
Collected your bones from what is
Left of the dining room closet?

Let her voice echo through the halls
Of an abandoned house just to
Remind you of the state
She left you in.
 Mar 2014 smallblank
Tom Leveille
i am seven and in your living room
with antiques & photographs
of family that are more like strangers
and handshakes at christmas
there is a jar of circus peanuts by the armchair
and i remember being told that these are here because they are never out of stock
and that they are the only things
children will not want to take from me

i still do not like the color orange.
i am eight and round the bannister
to an upstairs that reminds me
of heaven in that
place i can't go sort of way & i am
knuckle deep in your pumpkin pie
wiping it on my uncles suede jacket
our hands still shake but the jury is still out
on if he looks at me and napkins the same
i hope you do not sleep
with my apologies under your fingernails
i will not say them out loud
i know i should have mowed your lawn
i should have been a home
for second hand smoke
if i could go back i would be your ashtray
i remember the day you forgot who i was
i bound into the room and throw my arms
around you like an armistice
and you ask who i am
we are not in church
but everyone stops singing
i am passed from child to child
while we all laugh
but my lungs feel like
they've been mugged in an ally
who's son does he look like, mom?
my father says like gospel
you pull on your cigarette
sip from your watered down wine and shrug
and i am neck deep in forgetfulness
i imagine alzheimer's
as being born again every day
so, we will spend ages
looking at captions to photographs
telling your stories to strangers
as my father begins to forget
and when i imagine probate
an unfamiliar hand unfolding a will
to be read to wayward angels
i want to burn down the house
and sleep in the ashes
 Mar 2014 smallblank
JDK
Vertigo
 Mar 2014 smallblank
JDK
Staring back into nothing
I felt a compulsion to fall
It felt like my spirit was leaving my body
It felt like my soul was drowning
inside of myself
and I thought

If nature is heaven
then concrete is hell

In the face of
a neon ancient god
once worshipped by the indigenous
peoples of the amazon
I had a sense that He was angry with me
that I'd done something wrong
He took something from me
but I don't know what it was
and I thought

If I'm just a stack of molecules
then I'm falling apart

I pooled into my shoes
which sunk into the earth
and I thought

If I ever have to die again
then I'll pass on rebirth
Samsara
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