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 Mar 2016 Sydney Marie
Morgan
I'm rain
but not the kind of rain
people drink coffee and stare at
from studio apartment windows
and under pretty white gazebos ,

I'm rain
but not the kind of rain
that falls soft at first,
and then harder,
and then soft again,

I'm rain
but not the kind of rain
that smells sweet
and makes flowers grow
in the spring time,

I'm rain
but not the kind of rain
that collects in pretty puddles
in the pavement
so that toddlers in rubber boots
can jump in and splash
their parents,

I'm rain
but not the kind of rain
that lulls crying teenagers
to sleep in their warm beds
or makes lovers miss one an other,

I'm rain
but not the kind of rain
people watch and listen to
with gentle acceptance,

I'm the kind of rain
that falls fast and hard,

the kind of rain that is cold
and hurts sun burnt shoulders
when it hits them,

the kind of rain that washes
pretty chalk paintings off of
drive ways in suburbs
without a second thought,

the kind of rain that
seeps through ceiling tiles
turning cozy little homes into
chaotic whirlwinds of
anxiety and destruction,

the kind of rain that
makes your joints ache
and your eyes red,

the kind of rain that
gets the kids out of the pool
and sprinting inside,
cold, wet, and uncomfortable,

the kind of rain that
washes leafs into
your gutters,

you curse it all week long,

the kind of rain that
only wanted to touch the earth,

to feel some semblance of warmth,

but the kind of rain that
doesn't know how to
leave the thunder at home,

the kind of rain who
breaks the things
it loves,
no matter how
hard it tries to be
gentle...
Broken hands built the house
Broken bottles buried the owner
Everyday is the same,
Sitting here all alone,
While you play your ******* videogames.
I'm on my phone,
Each day while I wait,
Is anything ever gonna change?

We may not have much money,
but attention & communication doesn't cost a thing baby,
I only ask for your time, but I guess watching all those zombies dying from your shots is alot more entertaining.
Sitting by on my phone typing this...
 Mar 2016 Sydney Marie
Holly
It's not fair you know.
Leaving a girl alone so late.
The lights are dimmed and music plays.

You could be here, where I lay.

You're temptation.
Poison to me.
But your lips pierce deeper than any spear.

Your skin is electric beneath my finger tips.
My skin melts like butter under yours.

Your eyes are simple.
Full of confidence and determination.
Unlike mine...
Timid and shy.

But the way you make me feel inside...

When your hands run down my body,
The air escapes my mouth.
When my hands are in your hair...
I want nothing else.

Your looks, they **** me.
Your smile alone.

I hope one day I look at you and feel nothing at all.
 Mar 2016 Sydney Marie
Lunar
The last thing i remembered
Was falling asleep on you.
It started with us talking in bed,
You were still in your white cap and i was still in my shoes.
And vaguely but imprinted in my mind,
i recall you taking off your pullover,
Putting on a plain shirt,
My eyes, i tried to cover.
But to see your arms, your neck
Sculpted with veins,
I know you're ontological,
Despite your occasional back pains.
Then you slipped under the sheets next to me, stared into my eyes and said:
"To see you last before i close my eyes,
to see you first before the sunrise,
To hold you in my arms this way,
Tell me, is it with me will you stay?"
I moved my head onto his chest
Your breathing was steady, but loud and bold.
And on your heart, my hand did rest,
My breathing, did i surprisingly hold.
"With you, I'll be, forever and always,
To sleep to your voice like a lullaby,
To wake up to it like an alarm on days,
To be your warm hellos and good goodbyes."
I feel your chin nod against my head,
Your exhale makes a few hair strands fly.
Before we knew it, we fell asleep to each other,
And we didn't even have to try.
This is how it should be
Before every time we fall asleep,
Wjh.

PART I: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1592481/waking-up-to-you/
 Mar 2016 Sydney Marie
gothicc
I am a liar
I told her I loved her
so as not to start a fire
but now that she's heard it
I must say it again
if I said "I love you" 7 times
I have lied 7 times
I don't even know how many lies I've told
even though the context of every one is the same:
I love you
this made a new truth in me
a truth I tell myself as often as I tell her a lie:
I hate myself
now that feels much better
the twisted honesty of it restores me
so that I look for a reason to say it again
I love you
I am a liar
I hate myself
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