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Molly Dec 2012
This bed, though twin-sized,
is still too big and too cold
without you in it.
Molly Dec 2012
Warm lungs hide soft words, say it fast, faster.
Poetic dark room, grow teeth and watch closely because
believe me, life was, at one time, meant to be worth living.
Broken means finally perfect, wings heavy, sinking,
Iron-sure anchor felt like smoke,
looking from tree to tree as the leaves flutter down like pages,
mirrored birds watching, walking the covered ground, actions set in silence,
golden and grey, tell me you understand because someone has to.

Blame the glass oaks that swore not to bend,
blame loud smiles and blame body and tongue,
eyes held leftward, downward.
Different years feel shorter, the farther they get behind us
the harder they are to see.
Feet fell flat on rough asphalt, try to work no matter how you feel,
new talk brings new futures,
forced laughter leaves curves smooth
between silences.
I’m sorry.

Hard head made of clay from the ground he learned to walk on,
Dad told him when he was young, "Son,
there is a whole world past these city walls, but you will never see it."
"The wind is made of hardship, dad.
Everyone knows that."
He remembers the grit of his father's palms, rough on the back of his neck.
Righteousness is not always painless but it gets the job done.
He figured if he wore his roots simple and strong,
slung them over his shoulder, they’d hold him to the ground.
And he would bite through his own tongue,
for what else do his roots do but hold him to the ground
when all he really wants is to float away?
He wonders, singing out of open windows,
is any of it worth fixing?

Bring the winter, the shallow dove
writing bitter songs beneath the edges of her sleeves.
She caught happiness in her butterfly net when she was a kid,
but she packed that away long ago.

Raising a match to his cigarette, fighting tremors in his jaw,
he sees Satan across the street but he doesn’t wave.
Hell is a short walk from here in every direction,
any direction,
and despite what she’s read she decides hanging
is the best way to get there.
After ten Hail Mary’s and five Our Fathers,
she ties her best sash around her delicate throat
and makes the short jump
to forever and ever, amen.

Pressing intentions found in old books, fighting flames,
unpleasant conversations,
"Christ man, can’t we talk about something else?"
But she reminded him of satisfaction, of branches perfectly bent,
frozen, refracted and solid, fitting.
Shivers run rivers of liquid metal down his spine, amorphous.

The eighteenth time unfounded family found him
he blew the fire out in one quick breath
closed sleepless eyes tight
and wished with all his strength for death.  

Whispers grow, stone walls grey concrete,
rocks, trenches, I’ll be home tonight, he lies.
Paint burning skin with red lips, heavy breathing,
they could have danced forever.
They could still dance forever.
Molly Dec 2012
The consciousness and the being are two separate entities. When the consciousness falls in love with its being, then the two will both find true satisfaction, contentment, and happiness. That is the only way to true peace.

The person in the mirror is a whole new person. They embody who you are in reality. All the failures, the sadness - they are only your body wrestling with the will of is consciousness. If your consciousness can look into the mirror and understand that the image is its one true equal, the only person who can truly understand every part of their being and make them happy, then can the entity find true satisfaction and contentment.
TL;DR - You are your own best friend.
I was drunk last night and somehow found myself staring into the mirror. This was the end result.
Molly Nov 2012
If the world caught fire tomorrow leaving we two the only survivors,
I think that things could be alright, because I think that you and I could 
Sift through the ashes, make morbid jokes and talk about the rain 
and the things that we missed and the things we did not and thing things we wished hadn't changed. 
And if, when the flames subsided our living hell were to freeze over,
you and I could keep each other warm, sleeping close, each other's cover. 

Because you are all I need in the world.  It is that simple.

Darling, if only you would pour your heavy heart into my hands 
I'd let the coals slip through my fingers until gold was all we had. 
If you and I were the last on earth, well, that would be alright,
Because no one else has ever loved me, ever proved that they would fight
For me the way that you did the night I dove into the sea
and you braved the waves and rising tides and swam out after me. 
I don't know what I was looking for, out there in the ocean.
Maybe it was a trick of the moon, a spell cast from perfection.
I was convinced that once I'd hit the bottom, I'd never again look the direction
of the surface.
But. You reminded me to come up for air.

I have everything I need in you. My terra firma, my everything. And I promise, on my love for you, I won't go back out to sea.
Molly Nov 2012
I would now like to relate to you
the dilemma with which I am faced:
Not to be morbid or anything, but.
Despite my best efforts
I am still alive
and must go on living
the same life I thought I had abandoned for good.

So, what in the name of the holy ******* ghost
am I supposed to do  now?
Because, I hate to be a ******,
everyone,
I hate to **** the vibes
don't wanna harsh the mellow or anything, here,
wouldn't want to put you out or anything,
but nothing has changed.
I mean, it's a little unsettling to just
jump right back into the shark tank
with the stitches from the last attack
still fresh from the needle.


Anyway. That's all I needed to say.
I know this isn't a blog, but. I really like to put the words down.
Thank you for your time.
Molly Nov 2012
I dove headlong into the sea two weeks ago.
Grey clouds
grey skies
reflected gray waters.
Rain fell, ambivalent,
hiding the sun, obscuring the soul
if soul there was. I don’t know what the rain believes,
but I knew it meant well.

I kicked off my shoes; shed my sweater, draping it across a rock
beaten smooth by crashing saltwater assaults,
misery endured silently for millennia
solid, solitary, solemn.

I walked, barefoot, across the stones.
I listened to the ringing of the silence
to the roar of the ocean.
Rain-soaked and reverent,
I willed myself to the edge of the rocks,
where I watched the waves seething below,
calling, inviting
nagging, inciting
persisting, requesting
insisting, infesting.

Turning my face to the absent sun,
I closed my eyes
felt the sting of the icy wind
felt the hairs on my arms begin to stand,
the frigid air aching in my lungs.
My breath caught, shivers interrupting a sigh of submission,
and I told myself
Peace.
You are not afraid. Not anymore.

And I smiled. And I felt warm.
And I was happy.
I counted one, two, three,
and I fell.

You see beauty every day,
but tell me,
do you ever feel it?
Molly Nov 2012
I hope and I wish with all my heart
that I can make you as happy as you make me,
because I swear to god you’re everything I’ve ever wanted
and ten times what I’ll ever be.

I have, for whatever reason, been given a chance with you.
and I am so
*******
terrified,
because now that I have you
the only thing left to do
is to lose you.  
(The only thing that hurts more than unrequited love
is having loved and lost.)

But believe me when I say that I’m going to work.
I’m going to try
so ******* hard
to be half the person you deserve,
to be everything you want me to be.

I just hope you know
that you’re not obligated to stay
just because of everything that’s happened.
I hope you’re still here
because you want to be
and not because you feel like
you have to be.

I love you.

But if you need to go, well.
I already know what it feels like to die.
Could a broken heart be worse?
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