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Hollow Jul 2014
I felt her presence,
hovering over my grave like a mothers last prayers
Like a fathers burning sorrows after thirty years drunk
Alone she stood, framed against the soft blowing trees,
and the dancing wildflowers that were placed as an ode to the dead
She held orange petals to herself,
close to her chest, as if to let them hear a heartbeat,
but the ear of a flower only picks up meaningful noises,
not the slow tempo of a withered muscle,
overworked from exhaustion

She wore black, knee high leather boots,
and a matching jacket
Her hair was wild, and she looked *****
She smelled of ***** and no showers,
cigarettes and sweat and blood
She looked of regret,
and her eyes sang tunes of pessimism
Anxiously she removed the bright flowers from her *****
Poppies, by the look of it
She presented them to the face of my headstone,
cracked and eroded with age, my name barely recognizable
Left with nothing, her fingers went to her short blonde hair,
matted and encrusted with dirt
She ran her hands nervously throughout, eyes constantly distracted

Suddenly, she focused ******* the headstone
A tear fell from her eye, and I watched it soak into the concrete
Her lips moved in familiar shapes, but words were lost to me
Every word
But one
A name

Abigail

And she turned away, walking crookedly into the wind and rain
And though I know she was talking to me,
I could feel the name on her lips, see it in her eyes
She scratched the insides of her arms as she disappeared from sight,
and I felt a longing in my own

"I walked away from myself that day. I gave it all up for hope. I guess this just goes to show what it's worth. Maybe I'll understand it one day, but for now, I am dead to everyone including myself."

Abigail Hollow
Jan 1992 - Aug 2008
A loving daughter, sister and poet.
This dream needs no interpretation, and at first I didn't want to share this, but I know I have to. It's for me, this poem.
Dhaye Margaux Jun 2014
Oh man, tell me...
Is there wrong in loving?
Is there sin in believing?
I have been searching for the half of my soul
I've crossed the hanging bridges with fear
I've walked a thousand miles with tears
Don't I deserve even a smile,
         a kiss, a hug or just a simple touch?
I have done everything because of love but I know there's no wrong in it.
Mariah May 2014
i cannot seem to forget
that sentence.
it burned into my brain like a
cigarette,
left a wound inside me that does not seem to heal.
eyes opened as the
blistering
syllables seeped out through broken sobs
reducing me to nothing but ash.
when she spoke those
seething words,
it must have been like
acid
scaling up the sides of her throat and diving off the tip of her tongue.
it must have
seared
her skin,
scarred
the sanctity of her sanity.
tears swelled in her eyes,
spilled over,
filled mine.
i held her as she sobbed the way a newborn would;
the realization hit,
festered, and boiled
inside me.
her other half is gone.
there's no retrieving the
fragments
of his soul,
no joining his with hers.
no amount of love can fix her.
no amount of love can make her whole.
no matter what i do,
i cannot fill the
void
she's condemned to live with.
"my mom's twin brother passed away."
Me
Vanity
Me?
Me?
Heightened sense of security
Me?
Me?
Vanity
Felt through everything
We’re the echoes through eternity
Me?
The fibers snap, snap conduct
Feverishly
Sending to benevolent web
Me?
I was there it was a ******* tragedy
You remember
That day?
Vanity
Me?
We’re more important than anything
This is the turn of the century
What we do
Echoes through eternity
Me?
Heightened sense of security
Big bro
He knows everything
Me?
We know everything
Anything we find
Quite conveniently
BLIND
Me?
A sarcophagus of time
This happened before in some other land
Before we knew of this
Time
BLIND
Me?
Vanity
Me?
Me?
Heighten sense of security
The fibers they snip snap tap
Feverishly
Conductivity
But we still don’t know ANYTHING
Me?
Vanity?
I was there it was a ******* tragedy!
Why’d they take the towers away
Did it really happen that day?
To
Me?
***** Monster
Narcissist Pharisee
Conscripted pet
Atrocity
I was there it was a ******* tragedy
Why’d they take the towers away?
Must have been vanity…
I'm very very proud of this one. But hold reserves for my generation....
www.eugene-moon.com
talaina sorensen Apr 2014
Your are the beautification of love,
that has been held as a prisoner, of war.
The war of life.. The fight..we fight inside
inside of ourselves..with ourselves,
to learn to love ourselves
so we can love someone else
right at least, so we can be at peace..
At night as we sleep,
And give God our souls to keep,
but your heart.. Its safe with me.

— The End —