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Tara Marie Jun 2018
A vat of toxic thought
is stirring in my brain.
Suffocating, paralyzing
and driving me insane.

It's been awhile since doubt has
corroded conscious thought.
Plagued and convoluted,
insightful - yet distraught.

The memories are beautiful,
the skies so blue and pink.
The abstract conversations
without even one drink.

The softness of skin contact,
and the kiss that draws me close,
Adrenaline so constant;
it had my brain engrossed.

But what of all the struggles:
the crying - all the tears?
The boring, simple lifestyle:
the overgrowth of fears?

All the dinners wasted
ignoring everyone around;
while staring at a scrolling screen
and not making a sound.

The arguments to argue,
and to never admit wrong,
the lack of admiration,
and the gazes were all wrong.

The persistent ambiguity..
Absence of determination..
The lack of loving sentiments
and the grand insinuations.

What of all the struggles,
do they outweigh all the skies?
Do they stomp over the memories?
Cut each and every tie?

A vat of toxic thought
is stirring in my brain,
Comparing, captivating,
and driving me insane.
Tara Marie Mar 2017
I'm living in a tiny box
With pin pricked holes around
I see the light reflect on skin
And hear most every sound

The walls -- opaquely vivid
I see all that is to be
But sometimes I only wish
I was a different me

A me that didn't have a box
A me that interacted
One who could live out loud and wild
One that's less distracted

One that didn't have restraints
Who filled her life with fun
Because living inside my box
Is dulling heat from sun

See, some can live without a box
Smiling through their skin
They dance and run under the sun
The world is but their kin

They go on great adventures
Capture potent smiles
Dance under the raining sky
And sing out loud for miles.

I'd like to say my box protects
From ultimate demise
But the things that worry me the most
Are the things that lie inside
Tara Marie Jan 2017
7 little mason jars
in a sequenced line
filled with 7 spices
displayed much like a shrine

I thought I'd have a use for them
to steep myself some tea,
yet they have remained stagnant
on this wall, they stare at me

one contains dried rosebuds
pink and red and pale
confined within a little jar
their fragrance growing stale

another holds some cardamom
and one is filled with cloves
slowly drying on this shelf,
labeled and enclosed

someone picked these rosebuds,
and dried all of these leaves
so they could sit within a jar
with nothing to achieve

tonight these 7 mason jars
all look at me, so somber
their families enjoyed a breeze,
had sun-soaked days to squander

they've not reached expiration
yet soon, they'll be disposed
no longer trapped in bottles
in death, they'll be exposed.
Sometimes simple gazes at simple things make me think about abstract things.
Tara Marie Oct 2016
Piles of papers glaring at me.
Signed, stamped, copied, for time and a fee.
Words and no promises, on the bark of a tree.
While you're somewhere else rapidly growing.

Days pass, we punch clocks, adding the time.
As the papers, they sit in the back of my mind.
She thinks wanting to see you is none but a crime.
While you're somewhere else distantly dreaming.

All the jabber and frenzy of what's wrong and right,
While no one observes our rigorous plight,
The lack of your presence haunts him at night.
While you're somewhere else sharing your laughter.

Your room is filled with your toys and your smiles,
Waiting for you to play in it awhile.
Waging war with the enemy goes on for miles.
While you're somewhere else slowly forgetting.

To say sadness is present does not quite explain.
All the stress, anger, longing inside of his brain.
Constantly trying to distract from the pain.
While you're with those who want to restrain you.

I believe there is good in the hearts of the wise,
Yet, some will use pawns to harvest the lies.
While the ones they need dearly are hung out to dry.
While you're somewhere else coloring pictures.

In the end, we will see you again and again.
No matter how many papers or strokes of a pen.
We love you, bubba, and we WON'T give in.
Cause you're somewhere else, incomplete.
Tara Marie Oct 2016
It hurts.. to watch you slowly fade away
I used to smile when skies were gray.
It seems so long ago.

It hurts.. that I'm not your first thought.
That you're used to what you've got.
It's all become a show.

It hurts.. every time you promise me
Things will change and I will see.
But it all stays vaguely numb.

It hurts.. to be sitting here in pain.
Not wanting to be blamed.
My feelings have succumbed.

It hurts.. that you can fall asleep so fast.
With your head held in your grasp.
I'm awake and you don't care.

It hurts.. to want it all to go away.
But my heart wants me to stay.
As my tears fall in my hair.

It hurts.. as I'm dying in my mind.
All I wanted was your time.
But that's too much a price.

It hurts.. that tomorrow I'll be strong.
And you'll still ask me what's wrong.
But my words will not suffice.
Tara Marie Sep 2016
You look at the world
Through a plate of glass
Beneath your finger
Passing constantly.

I look at the world,
Gazing at you,
While you're gazing elsewhere,
Wasting precious minutes.
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