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 Feb 2014 Vivienne Luong
Jay
Please, touch me.
I can't remember how long it's been
since I've felt skin against mine.
I've been in such a horrible rut.
 Feb 2014 Vivienne Luong
Jay
I find myself waiting
         for the   words     she
has
                        to say.
                           Because
I can't lie to myself-        
                                                 ­          I care.
And I still long
          to be      
                            warm.
I wrote this a long time ago..
I never posted it, but I find that tonight may be more appropriate for it anyhow.
It's freezing out.
 Jan 2014 Vivienne Luong
Gabriel
Memories hang around, like cigar smoke in the air
Memories hang around like indentations in carpet of a couch that isn't there
They stain you like the pigment that paints the yellow lanes
They stain you like that naughty thought that live inside your brains
They restrain from thoughts, actions, and feelings you hold inside
When they are of a lost one we like a piece of us has died
Sometimes they warm us up and yet they bring us down
They can often be the reason we cannot escape the ground
They are always with us as the crows keep them all
Memories are often the best things when we have no ability to call
More than love,
sometimes it is
the fear of being alone.
Because loneliness
creates a haunting echo
of our silence.

Isn't that why
we seek broken things,
and broken men?

So that we
fix instead of break
at least for once.

So that we
leave our signatures
in the loosely filled
cracks and scars.

So that they
cannot recall life
but after we set
their hearts beating again.

So that every time
they take their clothes off,
they can see us
sewed to their skin.

And be proud
to call it ours.
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