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  Mar 2014 Marly
Kasey
You are a rainstorm in an Arizona summer.
I don't know whether I should hide
Or bathe in you.
Marly Mar 2014
death would be easier than dealing with this.
or would it?
i can't be trusted with this decision.
it'd be comforting to know for sure that my life is being controlled by something else.
my veins are aching, leaking out through tiny holes you poked with your teeth
my once full energy supply is now depleting,
battery life draining down to 5%
warning, warning. connect to charger.
1%.
i'll shut down, soon.
hopefully in your arms.
how difficult is it to understand
that people like me never sleep soundly?
i'm sick of you(r) people
and your UPPERCASE letters
UPPERCASE standards
UPPERCASE expectations
you, better than me?
hah.
please.
whispers drawn from scratchy throats,
whispers being the loudest they get,
coated in alcohol and ash.
you try to scream
but your voice is muffled by
the weight of your decisions
i told you to stay with me forever
no way to say no
you're stuck heading in one direction
promises are promises, dear.
you told me you'd rather die.
i'm feeling cold
no shivering, waves of frost wash over instead.
they're much worse.
i keep on tucking my hair behind my ear
it won't stop falling from the perfectly made groove
curved to perfection
signed and dated.
it falls how my best friend "accidentally" fell off of a balcony
mom always warned me about balconies.
why do you think i always walk with one hand against the opposite wall?
it's reminder that you can stay away from the gravitational force that is Earth.
at least, for a bit.
why do spaces matter, anyway
jus ta wayt odi st ance
things that should be,
that belong,
together.
the boy who sits behind me in class
plays with my curls, and then
one day,
he cut them off.
i trusted him.
kinda still do.
trust is a weird thing.
trusting someone not to look when you change is hard,
they could turn around and you'd never know.
somehow,
trusting someone not to tell everyone that you want to die is easy.
i'd trust you even if you held a gun to my temple.
i remember this day. lots of paper.
this day is every day.
  Mar 2014 Marly
Vivian
he's
tripping, but not
coerced by gravity;
rather a Molotov cocktail of
endorphins lobbed straight at his
prefrontal cortex.
some find this
distasteful,
some find it
deplorable;
god help me,
I find it adorable.
(it's the only time he'll
admit he loves me)
Marly Mar 2014
i am beautiful
                                                                                      but i am not breathtaking.
i am smart
                                                                                           but i am not ingenious.
i am kind
                                                                                                 but i am not cordial.
i am a person.
                                                                                                  i am not perfection.
Marly Mar 2014
the thing is,
i don't know what i'm doing;
i don't know who i am;
i don't know why you came back;
and i don't why i let you.
i'm done with this, now
Marly Mar 2014
if i confessed my undying love for you, kneeling next to your tombstone, would it still be considered too late?
Marly Mar 2014
I trudged through the snow in the middle of the road to get home today. If you had voicemail on your phone, I'd probably leave never ending messages.
This is a little bit late. Better late than never, though.
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