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Tara J Williams Nov 2018
You say so much so much is wrong with you
I see an ocean of blue eyes I want to dive into.
Because you are a beautiful place,
I want to scuba dive.
Tara J Williams Nov 2018
She’s dying from life.
She doesn’t have cancer, she’s not sick, but she is suffering
And she’s dying from her own life.
She’s dying from the nazis taking her childhood away, she’s dying thinking about the first time her husband asked her to dance, and she’s dying because her husband left a note and she found his body.
She is dying because she did so much, and was so strong. She tried so hard and now she is tired. She is still strong, but she is oh so tired.
And she’s still being stubborn but she can’t leave bed. She can’t move, she can barely speak, I feel what she wants to say resting on the tip of my tongue.
She is dying.
Tara J Williams Jul 2018
want to escape to somewhere I don’t know.
Some town upstate when the leaves grow stale but the sign outside the movie theater is still glowing
I don’t know what I want to see.
Tara J Williams May 2018
I grew up here felt like nothing could go wrong, go astray,
now I’m sitting here finding anything could happen any time, any day.
A yellow little school bus going down the highway.
One stupid move bodies are flying every way.
On the median grass lives lay.
The cold morning crosses over but the pain it will stay.
That little yellow school bus driving on the highway, the highway, the highway.
A couple moments later I’m at a memorial service the next day, the next day.
My fifth grade teacher and a student are let down to lay.
I couldn’t ever even imagine this pain in my heart,
This pain has torn my hometown into parts.
God rest my teacher and god rest that girl,
I just hope I can make a good impact on this world.
Tara J Williams Jan 2018
I’ve wrote you for years and years
You don’t seem to respond
It always gets cold again. The green never stays. I feel you always get your way.
I feel the wind going so fast between houses right now and I wonder where my happy thing is. That’s you. Why do you stay for three months and then you’re gone again.
I can’t go to the ******* beach like this. I can’t have a ******* drink on the boardwalk with your warm salty breath around my ankles.
You’re just gone. You desert me into half a year of cold.
When you’re gone the cold of the night echoes through the windows and I can see shapes and shadows like never before.
They’re all so blue. They’re so cold. Blank tree branches outline what I feel for when you go away. I think they’re waiting for you too.
And I’m always just waiting for you, my ankles dipped into your waters, they’re ******* freezing by the way. just waiting for you to come back.
Tara J Williams Mar 2017
The day I died was the worst day of my life.
My last moments were filled with red and blue police lights, EMTs shouting to "just hold on" as they pulled me from the ruins that used to be a car. I don't like police lights anymore.
The day I died started with morning coffee as I hurried to get my things together for school, giving my mother a kiss on the cheek as I ran out the door, her rose perfume still lingering around me for a few minutes.
It consisted of me going through my morning class, taking my smoke break, more coffee from the little stand in the lounge.
Then I was driving back home on the turnpike, summer wind in my blonde hair, radio cranking, feeling happiness because the weekend was coming and I had plans with my boyfriend.. we'd been dating since the 9th grade. I died at 24.
And just as I was putting together in my mind what to do when I got home, just as I was wondering what my mother had made for dinner, just as I was having all these average every day thoughts,
I died.
Death hit me like a ton of bricks through my drivers side door. It pinned me down and took me.
I felt myself leaving and saw everyone else coming to the scene. I saw people stop and cause a major traffic jam. I saw an extremely intoxicated man be put in handcuffs. I saw the road, a deep tint of red to it.
I followed my family to the morgue. I held my mother's hand when she screamed my name and saw my body. I was there when my father had to restrain her from sprawling her body over mine, clinging onto my gray face,
And then I was screaming too. Except no one could hear me. Or comfort me. No one to even hold me close for a moment.
As you people don't know yet,
Death can be very lonely.
Tara J Williams Oct 2016
7am, off work
8am, first person on the liquor store line.
Raise a bottle to my lips as I sit in the yard
Sun growing throughout the sky, getting brighter,
Everything is so light and warm. And I hate it. Make it go away.
Half of my liquid confidence is gone now, and I still can't drift off.
Time for the top of the fridge where the pill form of sleep is kept.
Popped one. It doesn't work. Pop two and maybe it'll be alright.
Drink the rest and finally I feel like the day can fade away into the back alleyways of my mind. So much like the ones I used to live in.
This needs to stop. I feel like ****. I'm not even a ghost, I am a ******* skeleton of a human being.
I am as dead as the graveyard I live across from.
Take me back. Take me back home before I find a needle in my arm.
I don't belong here.
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