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 Dec 2013 standingstiill
daniella
When I was younger, commercials told me that depression hurt, and I had no idea what that meant. Flowers were flowers and the sun tanned my skin and peach tea ran through my veins and the world produced enough magic for me to be content.

How I ended up on my bathroom floor with a knife is a story for after my eulogy. Do not mention how the flowers died, how the sun burned my skin, or how the world is the worst it has ever been.  

Suddenly, I was mocked by every living thing on this planet. They sighed “you do not live.” Every frown was another twist of the barbed wire tangled up in my bones that clicked toward the destruction of my free will and the caging of my heart, brittle and broken and bruised and more than ready to stop its frail beating.

I used to want. Want to lap up the planet like a thirsty dog, satiated by the sanguine hearts that care for the earth, I wanted to glide through every part of history with my eyes wide open with a ribcage breathing energy and light, strength and confidence.

And here I am.

I wonder if any of it was real at all. Until I find out, I’ll make myself a part of history today. May you forever remember the pigment of my eyes when I cried from the joy of the moment.

This is the end of the road.



~d.a
 Dec 2013 standingstiill
R
should have
tilted my head  
                             up
                            
                             ^^
when he kissed my head i shouldve just  gone for it. i had a chance and i blew it ****.
 Dec 2013 standingstiill
Lizzy
The old blue box filled to the brim
With bandages, Advil, and what my dad used to call "magic healing lotion"
So that we would feel special when putting it on
After falling down
From the monkey bars on the playground across the street
Or that first time I fell off of my bike

Now my pain is more than skin deep
Not a simple dab of magic healing lotion and a Spider-Man bandaid
Will help stop the blood dripping from my wrists

The old blue box filled to the brim
With bandages, Advil, and what my dad used to call "magic healing lotion"
Now sits on the top shelf of the closet
Collecting dust
 Dec 2013 standingstiill
Emily
I may write about you
I may think about you
But it doesn't mean
That I still dream about you
Or that I still want you
I don't even think it means that I love you
These poems
These extra ramblings
Are my way of ridding my spirit of your toxic presence
I'm liberating myself of the constant feeling of rejection
I'm relieving myself of the tremendous feelings of guilt
But most of all
I'm shedding away all of the feelings of unworthiness and ugliness that you caused me to feel
You ripped me in two
These poems get rid of the brokenness
While I attempt to puzzle myself back together
You left me a mess
That's how I know you're not the best
I'm moving on now
And you'll be sorry
Because there will come a time
When you'll really need me
© Peyton 2013
 Dec 2013 standingstiill
Tylie
i think of his smile
and all his intensities
his anger, his love
he gets the best of me

his complexity is beautiful
his intelligence is ****
his flow of passion and ideas
caress me
and so does he

he treats me like a butterfly
something so rare
delicate
and marvelous

together we form some sort of metamorphosis
our balance so dependent on each other
we bring out the beauty
and disaster
found in the truth of us
 Dec 2013 standingstiill
Andrea
Pure
 Dec 2013 standingstiill
Andrea
She is stunning.
Wavy hair, the color of sand
on a calm California beach.
With wide, naïve green eyes.
Her lips,
the color of cupid pink,
slightly parted with confusion and distress.

Where is she?
She surrounds herself
In a field
of black roses
and tainted carnations.
Her mind is blurred,
Her movements are shaky.
She looks around,
Where can she go?
She wants to go back home,
Where the hopeful daises
and the white lilies lie.

She wants to look at the world,
and see the protective, green trees as she tilts her head up.
She wants to see
the bright, yellow sun staring at her,
with welcoming eyes.

She is tired of seeing
Air filled with smoke and despair and sadness.
She hates seeing the
grass on her lawn,
that used to be so clear and vibrant,
turn to utter decay and an anguish color of
Lost hope and defeat.

She wants it back, she wants it all back.

Little does she know, that no matter how long
she spends contemplating and compensating
in that repulsive field of black roses and tainted carnations,
She will always turn back to those
lovely,
hopeful daises
and white lilies.

*-andrea
 Dec 2013 standingstiill
R
she asked me specifically,
"do you have feelings for him?"
i laughed and said no.
he probably sees me as a daughter,
nothing more.
but, when i went to sleep that night,
i dreamt of him.
some of it was physical,
but, most of it was just us
talking.

talking about physics and
laughing at jokes and then
him accidentally touching my thigh
when laughing and then me looking
up at him, giving him that knowing look
saying, "i want you, all of you."
and then we just... kiss.

i think the sweetest part of the dream
was the moment before our lips touched.
the heat between us, the smile that slipped onto his
lips and the way i leaned to my right.
you could sense the hesitation, but you could
feel the complete desire emanating from the both of us.

i remember waking up that saturday morning.
i touched my lips and still felt the warmth there.
the dream felt so real. and maybe one day it will be.
but, is that what i really want?

i remember him giving me advice:
when i find someone i love, remember to double check and see if he is the one you want to wake up next to in the morning and live the rest of your life with.
i remember picturing mike... not him.
but, mike always be my first love. the one true love that i really could
never ever reach.

i guess since i have to ask if he is what i really want, means that i don't.
i guess i just... i just don't really even know.
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