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Miranda Huff Aug 2017
Maiden, sweet,
Hair the color of sunset wheat,
The cloth slips and reveals skin,
But hold your soul still from trembling,
Because her eyes are pitch black,
And there is no knowledge that they lack.
Miranda Huff Aug 2017
I've wrinkled up the letters,
Wet with ice and tears.
And there's no point in,
Putting them in between the old pages,
Of books to straighten them.

It's likely that you'll find me,
In the windowsill, burning,
Tiny shreds and throwing them down,
Hoping to burn a piece of my memory,
Hoping they disintegrate into the ground.

"The letters aren't gonna do it for you,
You have to go, too."
My thin dress is exposing my heartbeat,
Racing fast as the grass gets closer to me.
Crackling of bone and flames.

On the old apartment building,
The ***** bricks are sticky with something.
A couple screams and runs away.
The sirens are so faint.
There goes my dreaming days.
Miranda Huff Jul 2017
The grim reaper is collecting,
Cigarette butts on your doorstep.
I bet you're wishing you could adjust the angle,
That you see your insides from.

I see all the frills,
That you can't live without.
I see all the signs of your demise,
In your little checkbook.

She thinks she's a killer.
Do the stigmas hit you hard,
When you smoke with her, baby?
She's bleeding alcohol when you crush her.

I am even lesser.
I dare you.
Step down to my level,
So that we're both trying ourselves.

How ungrateful of me,
To see another truth,
And hide it out of sight.
Unfaithful to myself.

Always gasping in my sleep,
"You, it's you."
I'm living on the other side,
While your riches die.

But this moment is golden.
Miranda Huff Jul 2017
Loudly, she dreams today.
Everyone can hear it while they're on their way.
Sickly, is the girl in the window,
The seasons and the people passing,
Same old, same old.

Loudly, he dreams tonight,
Mother is loud again,
The sweat and the substance abuse,
Wafting up the staircase.
"Someday, I will leave this place."

More seasons, more seasons,
And the window is the scene of,
Newfound love and freedom.
Wind chimes, hands extended,
"I will take you away."

CRACKLE!

"I can't!"
And her tears drip down his ***** cheek.
"I'm sorry, I'm too weak."
His eyes darkened and he disappeared.
Yes, it was just a dream.

Sickly, is the young woman by the fire,
Window covered, no light in her.
Strongly, did the door open,
And he stood there dressed as a prince,
A new wheelchair, a throne.

Her eyes flooded like a well in April.
The scars in her heart shattered,
In the wind of the open window,
The smell hit her sniffling nose,
The flowers and the big tree, maple.

She stood, falling on her knees,
He bent and held her up, "Please,
Will you marry me?"
The love was heard by everyone in the town,
Clearly, loudly.
Miranda Huff Jul 2017
Slightly does the wind *******,
And the smoke off the sky,
Its face... Ah, the red across the blue of the night.
The blinding performance of the fakers,
Gives purple hope to the papers,
That I will drink from the fountain.
Please, God, let me step carefully,
I can't forgive myself.
None of it is enough,
And the pictures are shredded up into the dust.
How tiny is the tear dancer,
I can't make it pause with these weak gestures.
Let it come through,
But slowly... Please, not fast.
Fading words in my head
Love... All that is owned.
Love... Please, quiet, let it be...
Love... Only... So much...
Yes, so much.
Miranda Huff Jul 2017
Did I ever tell you that,
The truth was d
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                                            down,
The pillars to the future?
Come to the play room,
The screens show the ugly.
The blank is beautiful.
Why is the distance of the room so hateful?
The birthed dissonance of the words,
Is crashing into my skull.
Her womb was empty,
I just had to be full,
Of the doctrine.
The bedside manner of the freaks,
Was so intriguing and seductive,
I fell onto the floor,
The spawn of Satan against my breast.

The screens went black.
Miranda Huff Jul 2017
I started as a madwoman deep in my heart,
The paint on my face,
The stick figure on paper.

I kept going like a madwoman,
The school pencils as my main utensils,
And the lined paper as my trusty canvas.

I gave up like a madwoman,
Blinded by society,
And believing that I'd never be content.

I broke through the barriers like a madwoman,
Scribbling left and right,
And embracing the drive for betterment.

If I can just continue on,
Unsettled and free hands running,
I'll always be happy to be a madwoman.
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