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Nov 2013 · 939
Inner Child
Taylor Smith Nov 2013
My inner child
is constantly trying
out the way your name
tastes on her lips
and she draws nothing but
your name in the sand
and she picks off the
petals of dozens of flowers,
reciting "he loves me,
he loves me not.
"

But just like a child would be,
she's terrified of losing you,
so she stops saying,
even thinking,
your name
and she washes away any
reminders of you from the sand
and on the last petal
she always says
(with hope in her voice)  
"he loves me"
even though she doesn't believe
someone like you could
ever love somebody
like me.
Nov 2013 · 536
Alone
Taylor Smith Nov 2013
I was given
two lips
two legs
two ears
two eyes
two arms
and multiple ribs.

I was only given
one half of a heart,
so I could find you
and fit our jagged edges
together.

But, you left
and took what
wasn't yours;
leaving me with
a hollow chest
and the worst case of
loneliness
known to man.
Nov 2013 · 591
Suicide (a Haiku)
Taylor Smith Nov 2013
I have never won
anything, so I guess that's
why I'm still alive.
Nov 2013 · 431
Beautiful Goodbyes
Taylor Smith Nov 2013
The story of her life
dripped from her eyes
and created intricate words
made of ruined mascara
and the ruby colored liquid
of her woven veins;
meant to be read
only by someone special
(oh so special).

But her story wasn't
discovered soon enough
and the last page
was nothing but a page
full of beautiful
goodbyes.

— The End —