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Katelyn Billat Nov 2017
She took the joy.
She took him.
She killed me in the process.
My carcass decayed.
I was left for dead
But life began to make
Its way through me again.
Coneflowers sprouted from my ribcage.
Vines began to tangle up my spine.
Lilacs grew through my skull
I was alive again
with new strength and a
Bliss that came from within.
Aleeza Nov 2017
if there is anything in this world that I know
it is that sadness doesn’t just leave
it prefers to hang itself on my almost-sure shoulders
it prefers to kiss my knuckles when I am at peace

if there is anything in this world that I know
it is that darkness doesn’t disappear during the day
it loves sneaking into the cracks in my troubled thoughts
it loves the solace of my empty bones

if there is anything in this world that I know
it is that nothing will ever be quiet for me
there are the words I shove back down my windpipe
there are the blue symphonies crying for me

but then again
there are early-morning greetings
and the promise of a cup of coffee that I won’t touch
the chill of the morning seeping into my pajamas with the stars

then again
there are tangles of phrases between my fingers
and the music of leaves dancing
the sun turning my eyes into different worlds

then again
there’s your shadow on the vandalized walls of this city
and the tilt of your smile that I’ve tattooed somewhere in my mind
the tug of your hands on my wrists


so for days that I stopped counting
all that I was sure of was the way I belonged in the crook of your neck
I felt the uncertainty unclasp itself from my spine
the choke of my tears faded into a memory

the dusk paints masterpieces on your serene features
you weave another story of your day
I hold onto your words like they are the only magic I know
I hold onto the bumping of our shoulders in the dying light

the dawn illuminates your drowsy stumbling through the streets
I hold you as we walk through abandonment
you laugh at the sound of your name
and I laugh at the thought of what we could be

for a time that I all but forgot
the sunshine somewhere in me ceased the rain
all the songs sang of you that I found
it was I who kissed your shaky hands

and still time finds a way through the ties around our wrists
maybe it was a lost cause from the beginning
how we fall into each other to fill in the gaps the universe has left
and how once again all of who I am is too much

the promises we made during midday hazes
the dreams that we recited with every flower we picked
the hope we had instilled in each other
the goodbyes that I knew would never be the end

and now all I know
is that the unquiet will never leave me
even when you do.
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
Some of your 'friends' will come to
see you on your knees,
broken. Be sure to
disappoint them.
Stand strong, ok?
xmelancholix Jul 2017
I woke up. it was Sunday morning and the air was cool. I wanted to move but the air seemed heavy and soft.
So I laid in bed for a while. I wanted to rest my spine.

the air feels warm as I move into the upstairs living room. I sit in the rocking chair and deep breathe.
I will go downstairs. But I wanted to rest my spine.

I made my way to the stairs when I heard arguing. The kids were in the car and my mom and papa were arguing about something.
I didn't go downstairs, so I sat down and continued to rest my spine.

The door slammed. I got a text from µˆ˚´ . I replied and looked out the window. My mom got out shortly after.
I wanted some coffee while I rested my spine.
my breathing is quiet and deep. my lungs are full of the strange haze and my stomach is aching.
I made some toast with my coffee and sat down at the dining room table,
so I could rest my spine.

The door burst open. I set down my coffee.
my father walked in and the air got slightly colder,
"the family is gone for five minutes and that's when she gets up."
I looked at him and said words. He slammed the door to his bedroom. I sipped my coffee again and held it to feel some semblance of warmth.
I continued to rest my spine.
He came out of his room and slammed his door again. He went through the others to leave and slammed those too.  
He got in his car and left. I watched through the big window and laid down in my chair so he couldn't see me exist.
I rested there with my spine.
Epilogue:

I sat up and opened my sketchbook. I was trying to capture a feeling in my spine. I told µˆ˚´ and he replied to say that I should text him when I was done. I told him he was a part of this. I think I captured the feeling in my spine from this strange morning. I'm finishing my coffee as I received another text... "i hope the air give your spine a hint on how to say it"
Zero Nine Jul 2017
Stand alone
scratching the spine
of my open book.
I alone
touch this book
manipulate the spine.
They warn of the bright outside
When I see only dark
mjad May 2017
the touch of someone's skin on another's
has been written about plenty already
but I swear to you
his touch is like no other
so innocent and fragile
but commanding and strong
yet gentle and caring
while he bites me all along
the sting and the numbness
the tickle of his tongue
his touch is like no other
so right though so wrong
all my softness in his clutch
his being needs no guide
he knows where and how to touch
as his eager mouth finds mine
his tracing fingertips bring chills
up my chilly and bare spine
his touch is one that nearly kills
but I am on cloud nine
Maria Etre Apr 2017
My paper
ached to feel stories of you
on its pages

yearned to taste the adventures
you had with my heart with every
curve of a letter

and craved to vicariously
enjoy the pressures of pleasures
on it's blank slate
every time
you trace bedtimes
stories up and
down my spine
Chloe Chapman Mar 2017
Blood drips,
            oozes,
                      In lurid globes
Down the shadowed folds of heavy velvet.
            cloying stench,
                      shattered china.

Your spine is twisted under stretched yellow skin,
Disjointed vertebrae break through, glinting white.
Your lost words heavy on your tongue,
Ringing in my ears.
Every villain believes
   they are a hero dear.
         even me.
Not a huge fan of this one if I'm honest. Thought I would post it anyway.
Jeremy Micallef Mar 2017
Every time it rains and I'm walking I
Step into a puddle, leaving my socks wet.
Every time this happens, I don't mind. I don't
Regret it, despite my feet being cold.
Even though it's not the greatest feeling, I'm
Happy to have stepped in this puddle. And
This time, my feet may never get dry.
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