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Leigh Jacobson Jan 2019
My mind is content
  
……… then
……… memories are stirred

A familiar smell,

A song we sang,

and here I am missing You

Again.
My brother died last year. During the summer. I have so many good memories. Even the last days we spent together. I am so grateful to have had that time with him But today my heart aches and my eyes are overflowing with tears.
Grace Jan 2019
When did we lose the good in good morning?
When did it become acceptible to wish each other "morning"

You know what morning sounds like?
Mourning

Mourning for a world that is broken and lost
Mourning for a child that will never know love
Mourning for lives that will never see light

Maybe that's why we wish each other "mourning"
So, I'm not completely sure where this came from but here it is.
Dear Ghost,

Would it be easier for you
if I ignored you,
blocked you, hid you,
and came back later
after an 'appropriate' amount of time?
Or is it easier if I stay,
patient and persistent,
occasionally dropping my two-cent
invitations, heart, and laughter,
gently
(repeatedly)
reminding you
that in spite of everything
I still give a ****?

I ask
because I do not know,
just as I can not ascertain
whether to hope or to mourn.
I hypothesize that neither
will improve this situation,
but I agonize over which
might make it worse.
Your input on the matter
would be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,
Lost in Limbo.
A Jan 2019
In moments I become enraged
That I am left without choice
To call your name with no reply
As if you never breathed a breath in this life

And I know that is a wicked lie
Because you were one of my most intimate gasps
The two of us colliding like planets out of orbit
Connected in such a scarce fashion

I’ll never be me without you
The day your heartbeat died
My own heart shattered
And all the world caved in
For Raylen
Amanda Jan 2019
she wept near the grave of her father,
knees digging into the fresh dirt.
her tears watered the earth beneath
her limbs.
deep sobs escaped her throat.
her father stood near.
not yet enough energy to form
and apparition for his daughter--
maybe some day.

he could see others pacing beside
their graves--wandering.
with a slight tip of the hat
to another nearby soul
and a sigh towards his kin,
he vanished with a gust of wind.
she turned, rubbing her puffy eyes
wishing it were him.
disappointed, she lays down
on top of the soil, six feet between her
and the freshly departed.
as Oct 2017
There was too much life in that man for him to...
2. It is possible to associate sadness with your name.
3. Strength now walks without a counterpart. She is tired.
4. Your un-presence billows louder than your renditions of "O Sole Mio" ever did throughout this home - throughout this heart
5. There will be no more music. Only everlasting echo
6. The sound of shuffling slippers was my favourite song
7. This house is now a museum. I am 5 years old, flashlight in hand, creeping creaky corridors. I stare as each of his artifacts slowly disappears before my very eyes.
8. We share the same shoe size
9. Now, when I remember him, I think of his hands - sturdy as he grates orange peel, fennel, Parmigiano-Reggiano, smooth as he stirs his shaving cream - Forever moving
10. This hospital is now a museum. I am 21 years old, sister's hand in hand. We all stare as he (yes, you) slowly disappears before our very eyes
11. There was too much life in that man for him to be ever silenced by un-music box
12. There was too much life in that man for anyone to be able to fill his shoes
13. There was too much life in that man for him to disappear with artifact body
14. Now, this man, he is somewhere untouched - the smell of orange and fennel fill his pockets (saved for rainy days). He lives inside and out of The Music, with soles(souls) bouncing.
There’s I place I go to
When you cross my mind
It’s almost as if your still there
By my side
Whispering in my ear
Caressing my palm

We called it the bridge to nowhere

I remember meeting you there
Sitting near the end
Staring out towards the water
You approaching me

I remember looking up
At your perfect tanned face
Your messy dark hair
Your mesmerizing gold eyes
Casually wearing your football jersey.

I remember your simple hello
Your nervous chuckle
Your silly smile.

I remember smiling back
And inviting you to sit.

Our first meeting on the bridge to nowhere

I remember sneaking out after dark
To meet you there
Just to lay on the bare wooden boards
Staring at the moon

I remember the smell of flowers that spring
branches blooming nearby
The smell of smoke and spices
Forever embedded in your clothes.

I remember your singing
Sweet nothings
in Spanish
Softly in my ear

Entwined together on the bridge to nowhere

I remember your high school graduation
Your mother so proud
Your sister excited
Your father crying

I remember your first game in college
Your running onto the field
Pride and joy in your eyes
Though you didn’t play
Because of that sprained wrist

I remember your sweaty embrace
And your ramblings
of the game
Reviewing every play
Your eyes shimmering with excitement

Racing to the bridge to nowhere

I remember that call
Which changed my life
My heart stopped
I couldn’t think

I remember rushing
to the hospital
Crying with your little sister
Collapsed on the floor

I remember your bloodied face
Wrapped in linen
Tubes bursting from your chest

I wanted to race to the bridge to nowhere

I remember spending my nights
Curled by your side
Willing you to stay
Strong

I remember that endless tone
That said you were gone

I cried at the bridge to nowhere

I remember curling up in your hoodie
Smelling you
Pretending it was you
Your arms surrounding me

I remember lying by the stone
That recalled your name
Talking to you
Burning letters by the small candle

I remember cleaning out your room
With your mother and sister
Finding that little box by your bed
Your final gift to me

I opened it at the bridge to nowhere

I still go there sometimes
With a letter filled
With promises to you
And a flame by which to send it.
alexandra Jan 2019
I am cursed.I don't know how much sorrow I can  take.Hold me until I'm gone,until I leave my last breath.
Our hands always entwined and never apart.Our hearts exposed and our palms travelling through our soft breathings.Feel the sensations we carry.
No,it's not arousal.If it was arousal then there wouldn't carry any sympathy or even pity.I'm begging for several nights.I'm on my knees and waiting for your sweet embrace.
Your touch makes my eyes water and my mind ready to explode from it's many conspirancies. Conspirancies about love.Conspiracies about the future.
Oh how beautiful the wonders you have made.How pure thee are.
Thus,I'm building up myself.I'm preparing myself in order to face you.Face that unexpected comfort of yours.Face the rehabilitation of our romance.
Oh how many generations have been wasted.How much love has been gone through the ages.Through the stages of love.
Thus I'm still begging and crying and mumbling sweet nothings.But my words are filled with air and they can't fix what's broken.
And in the end I'm still on my kness,staring at the nightsky,eyes wet,voice sore from screaming,hands ****** from  open wounds,and soul ready to fade from what is gone.
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