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jess Apr 2017
in the middle of the street at night, back on pavement
i can't count the stars, the city lights ruined that for me
(but that's is not the point, maybe i'll write about that tomorrow).

i'm here so i can think
similarly to a fire,
the brain needs oxygen otherwise it shuts down
maybe i should rather be giving it water

i carry a cigarette in my jacket pocket, just in case
i have some liquor in my closet, just in case
it is a precaution for the case in which i lie in the street

it is a bit like:
-having your mom on speed dial
-checking your bank account
-getting tested for ******
jess Apr 2017
i am filled with air

i will blow away some day

the wind will take me
jess Apr 2017
Everyone wants a piece of the sky
Someone told me in a dream
The dome of blue blanketed them
As they lie in green grass

This hand pulled away from that one
(And in a quiet solitude,
that hand slowly moved to that side)
This ached for more than that

Then, someone, somewhere, said it
Everyone wants a piece of the sky
This they know from quiet solitude
To want more is to touch the sky
jess Apr 2017
the first is the old sad looking man
he lives in the group home
i bet he’s supposed to have a walker
perhaps he refuses to use it
his body resembles a skeleton, and
he always goes through the sad park
the one that gives splinters
the one with far too much garbage
he follows the path all day,
usually pacing back and forth
i said hello once,
he did not hear me
(or maybe he just didn’t care)
i always see him, even in the cold
he is the most common of all

then, there is me
(the girl with the short hair)
she goes nowhere in particular
dark clothes, tired gait
i saw her light a cigarette once
although she never put it to her lips
she never really says hello
she just looks at you,
like “what’re you waiting for?”
she walks in the middle of the street
at midnight, all alone
she steals flowers from her neighbor
and carries them away
to the tiny house on the corner

lastly, there's the boy with the bike
he has autism if i remember
alex with the sandy brown hair
blue house, chipped paint
he never wears a helmet
i am curious if his parents mind it
when he leaves the house,
does he tell them he’s going?
he constantly talks to himself
he said hello to me once,
but called me by a name i didn’t recognize
he always bikes in circles
maybe he’s looking for something.
jess Apr 2017
“Do you still want her?”

(I still have a shirt she gave to me
I never wore it, nor washed it.
Yet it still haunts my wardrobe
Because it carries her scent.

She used my cherry chapstick once,
I never let it touch my lips again.
I like to think it’s a kiss to keep,
That I carry with me wherever I go.

I listen to the songs we used to like,
I hear them even more than we ever did.
The melodies remind me of only her,
And words are only ever about sad things.

I trace the lines on my hands sometimes
To think about when she did the same.
There seems to be a crevice in my palm
That has her name boldly engraved.)

“No, I’ve moved on.”
Comments are always appreciated
jess Apr 2017
he lived in the mud house diagonal
with short hair and quiet eyes
he divorced an april
bad intentions with a may
strange relations with a june
july never arrived
jess Apr 2017
let her know you’re ruined now that she’s gone
write down every mistake she has ever made
collect all your dignity and pour it elsewhere
always ask whether or not she loves you
feel sorry for yourself every single day
ignore her if she tries to atone to you
pretend you never cared about her
compare her love to being in hell
make sure she feels remorseful
fall in love with someone else
tell her she ruined you again
do not ever apologize for it
use her words against her
make yourself indignant
let yourself lose touch
fill others with hate
ignore her entirely
she ruined you
**** her over
lose control
neglect it
be cold
leave
go
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