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You are my dearest posession,
The one I keep in a locket around my neck.
But you see, the thing is-
No matter how beautiful the locket is,
I'm still allergic to silver.
Facts. I'm still going to wear it though, **** my skin.
B D Caissie Sep 2019
If I could save time in a locket, I would wear it around my neck and sail the seas. Thus being immortally known as the father of time travel.

©
A locket of gold hangs on a chain
Around your neck always
By your heart it remains

Engraven with words, only for you
“I am a child of God”
Provides comfort anew

Open your locket - reread the words
Remember the message
Let them often be heard

A happy, joyful, prosperous flow
Will stream from your locket
You received long ago

Emblazon the words into your mind
Let hope spring eternal
And your treasure you’ll find
This is Prosperity Poem 44 at ProsperityPoems.com  and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background here http://prosperitypoems.com/delivery44ALocketOfGold.html
all the while I will love you because I’ve never been good at stringing the little locket heart into my chest. It’s always just dangled in my hand clumsily. People always tell me “kid you gotta hide that. Don’t you know where you are.”and i want to laugh. And say “ I’m in the jungle baby”, proceed to sing the rest of that song, and not let them get me down. Cause **** the *******.

It is what it is, the sadness, but with it
also the love
so,
why suffer.

little locket in hand and the nearness of the you, jazz standards floating through my head,
are enough.

It is what it is.
I’m in Love with you. Thousands of Motown songs and R&B 2019 top charting singles running, forming hills in my mind
mounting
so ever slowly, but continuously that everytime I walk past one of those hills, I fail to recognize it.
They’re becoming mountains

They are what they are,
as this is what it is.
kaycog Jun 2016
For my sixteenth birthday she gave me a locket
Which I keep inside a bag, inside a box, inside of my drawer
All shiny and silver, with initials engraved
Carved on its back the date forever saved
It is resting undisturbed, never worn out
Though I try it out from time to time
Put it on by the mirror and wonder to myself
This is who I would be had things stayed the same
I shake my heavy head, unclasp it from my neck
The last piece of you at last is removed
And yes, I do try to forgive
But to this day that locket stays
Inside of a bag, in a box, at the bottom of my drawer

I don't put it on anymore
This one was published
Spenser Bennett Jun 2016
I've got vines for my veins and roots for my laces
Leaves for my hair that hangs over empty eyes, graceless
It's coming from up under my branches
All this air could've been wasted on dead faces

Tell me what you're thinking
Put it into words for my inkling
Tickle me with jokes
But watch out for my ribbing

Power only consumes
But love it always feeds you
And I love it
When you breeze through

And I'm moving
To windy grooving
As you sing me
All your favorite musing

So baby won't you cut me
Down but don't you burn me
Wear me as a locket
Don't you ever lose me

Or I'll lose me
I'm not really sure.
Kerri Apr 2016
The cold locket
She gave you
Slipped from your neck
Falling between
Your bare breast
And down past
Your broken heart

You hugged
Your knees
That they might
Save you
And hold you
Together
For just a
Little while

Staring at your
Reflection
In the
Lukewarm water
That stagnated
At your thighs,
A white
Porcelain refuge
Surrounded by
Moldy tiles
Was your solace

The salty leakage
From your
Forest eyes
Fell faster
Than the
Squeaky faucet
That never stopped
D R I P P I N G

The cool
Air grazed
Your spine
And sent
A peppered
Patch of
Chill bumps
Down your arms,
But you
Didn't seem
To mind

All you
Could feel
Was the
Broken pieces
Of your heart,
S c a t t e r e d
In the water
Slicing your body
Like tiny
Razor blades
By their
Jagged, Uneven
Edges

With one
Flip of
Your toe
You whispered
Goodbye,
As the necklace
That she
Gave you
And the
Pieces of
Your heart
That she
Took from you
Slid down
The drain,
Into the
Place Where
Broken Hearts Go.
A story of the place where most girls go to deal with their broken hearts: A good cry in the bath tub.
Mollie Grant Mar 2016
The duvet is disheveled—
hanging onto the mattress,
half draping the ebony stained
floor. Admiral Blue walls are illuminated
by two brass pendant lights
that have sprouted from the ceiling
and are growing off of
the bitter ends of
the anchor rode.

My attention is pulled down
by the locket
weighing from my neck
as the silver braid bites
with chill and I stay on the bed
and focus on that brightwork
laying on my chest and
I keep trying to ignore
the far corner of the room
by the vanity because
I keep trying to ignore
your blubber-skinned suitcase
painted in barnacles, sitting on the floor,
mouth wide open, like it is just there waiting
to swallow you whole and
spit you back out at the next harbor—
I swear, I think it is trying
to rename you Jonah.

Tonight, like every other night before
that you have stepped from my deck
to throw yourself into the sea,
I will find myself,
after the moon has risen,
after the tide has shifted,
and after the town has fallen asleep,
wandering aimlessly down the hand paved
roads that weave along the port to sit
with *your life, your love, and your lady.
Keep me in your locket, doll,
Keep me tied real tight.
Keep me safe, my love,
Or I might die of fright.
And fear.
And Paranoia
This is nothing to kid.
I am totally, and incidentally afraid of my mirror.
And my friends.
And enemies,
Frenemies,
They're truly out to get me.
Ghosts around every corner and skeletons in e'ry closet.
I am trying not to cry and dying to avoid it
This hell that holds me
Baby
Lock it
Lock it
Lock it
Baby, keep me in your pocket
Baby
Lock it
Lock it
Lock it
Baby, keep me in your pocket
Oh, lock it
Lock it
Lock it
I'm crying.
Keep me in your locket, doll,
Keep me tied real tight.
Keep me safe, my love,
Or I might die of fright.
©LogenMichel copyright 2015
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