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Starr Feb 2020
it’s not you it’s me

yet i’m the one hurting

it’s not your fault

why am i the one crying?

this just isn’t working

i thought it was working just fine

i’m sorry

then why do i feel bad?

- it happens so often, i'm beginning to think it's me
Starr Feb 2020
time and time again
I trip head over heels
I let myself fall
expecting your arms
to catch me
hitting the ground
hurts

less

each

time
Starr Feb 2020
I mistook salt for sugar
and it burned my mouth
every time I took a drink.
Sipping, I decided the sting
was more tolerable
in small doses.
But one accidental gulp
sent me running.
and now I’m just left with
a salty aftertaste in my mouth
Or maybe that’s my tears
Starr Feb 2020
the words seep into the pages
they slip from my mouth to my pen
leaking out on to the paper
        don’t read that
     it’s not meant for an audience
the words help me cope
make me feel less alone
numb the pain
        don’t read that
      it’s not meant for an audience
the words keep me up at night
chase away the demons
but make them seem all too real
        don’t read that
    it’s not meant for an audience
Starr Jan 2020
Watching through her window
she wonders the time.
The sun is slowly fading from sight
Closing the curtains
she slides to the floor
Hugging her knees
she aches for the morn
Flickering candles throw
shadows on the walls
She cries as the moon rises and the sun falls
Afraid not of the dark
but scared of the sleep
Her eyes threatening to close
with each passing hour.
Head drooping, she dips
into shallow dreams.
Though the nightmare will drown
her if she wades too deep.
Starr Jan 2020
The purplish fog of dusk sets in,
only minutes left before our childish fears
take hold again.
Walls hold dancing shadows, cold fingers reaching
out, inviting me to play.
Pale hands on mine, pulling me towards the gates
Smothering my cries, they take me away
taking me away to their sire.
Flames lick my hands as I’m pulled through the fire.
Finally the hands let go, I look around
only to find myself alone.
I’ve been here for ages now, the nightmare replaying in my head
Only minutes before I am free to dance with the rest of the dead
After the purplish fog of dusk sets in.
Starr Jan 2020
Colors stretching across the used canvas
Colliding, interlocking fingers
Grasping for understanding
Brush raised, hovering, shaking
Each stroke only adding to the pain
Hues of sorrow, shades of hurt
filling the spaces.
Soft pattering breaking the silence
as the tears spill over the edge,
streaking the freshly painted facade
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