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Little Bear Feb 2020
a tempestuous storm
blows through
the hollows
of her eyes

whining on the wind
as if a wolf,
howling it's sorrow
in cries of loss.
it calls
the blackened sky

between the gaps
in her fingers  
the dust consumes
her skin
to bone

where brittle
wedding bands
from her fingers
into the sodden grass
full of
mourning dew

dropping like cymbals
upon uneven ground.

thundering gales
tear through her ribs
borne of heartbeats
that roar misery

her bones
excavated marrow
bleaches white
in the sun,
dries to dust
and gladly falls
to nothing

her sorrow leaks
into her veins.
unrequited love
at her torment

that ebb and flow
wither and die
gives her
in her isolation

an eternal grounding

as loves tempest
wreaks utter

she hears the
wolves cry
  and she is too empty
to reply
smol edit, i hope it reads better now :)
Armand-DeamoJC Sep 2018
The night before
Your fingers carefully slid down my seams
To understand exactly
What holds me together
With patience
You brutally and ruthlessly
Pulled me apart
So here am I:
Broken, but alright
Alone, ever so slight
I wrote this poem a very long time ago and found it among all my papers and crap, then decided to publish it
Delta Swingline May 2017
I would still apologize.
But I would ask why it was so easy for her to leave me.

I would ask...

Can't you just...



Don't leave me.
Nothing happened if nobody talks about it. And yet, it all really happened.
Delta Swingline May 2017
I promise you I am safe every night.

I don't need a bodyguard.
I don't need a guardian angel.

I know you're out there somewhere away from me.

And that's okay.

I should tell you I still imagine myself in the hospital.

I sometimes wish I was in critical condition just so you would have a reason to talk to me without feeling weird, awkward or forced into it.

Although hospitalization is a weird way of forcing you to see me out of guilt.

Mostly because if I was dying...

You would show up only if you really did care.

It is not enough for me to just let you go.
I may have stopped talking, or stopped crying.
But I never stopped hurting.

And I reach out, I hope for you with all I can. I'm still on your side.

So if you end up at my hospital bedside...

I want to hear you say it.

That you care.
That you never stopped caring.
That you actually want me around.
That you want me to live.

Or just that you don't want me to die thinking that you didn't give a ****.

Because that's what this still feels like.

That's what walking away does to a person.

I'm safe here. I will not go anywhere.

But I still hold out optimism for you.
For us.

But I was told, "Things will not go back to the way they were."

So I guess that optimism is just ******* right?
It doesn't mean anything.

I know you wish I would just simply tell you this face to face.
But in all honesty...

I'm not brave.
I'm not as strong as you thought I was.

So I write instead.
You told me I could write to you anytime.
And you would be here.

But now you're gone.
And I can't do anything about it.

So I will continue to pray for your safety for as long as I can.

Because I don't know when I'll see you again.
And I've told you I fear the day when I don't.
You told me I would.
But that was before...

Things are different now.
And despite all the pain...

I'm still safe.
And I'm still...

Holding on.
I'm still broken when I see you sometimes.

— The End —