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Honna Root Dec 2015
I was reaching, reaching for something that wasn't there.That sense of security with your arms wrapped around me, now but they were idle by your side.
There is no way to confront the reality in front of me.
Your face that once had a grimacing half smirk now turned to a frown of despair.
It is almost as if you vanished into thin air.
Somedays I’m strong.
Somedays I’m weak
and on those vulnerable days I just want to tell you all about it, but how that would be irony.
You’re the reason of all my pain,
so why do I want to chase that?
Why do I think I need that?
I look outside the window pane, just like the the movements of the bus’ wheels turn round and round, so does my thoughts consume my mind, reliving every moment in agony,
WHY did I do that?
Why?

Because I’m better off this way.
I’m better off living without him,
I’m better off not intermixing my emotions and complexity of the situation especially since he's not ready for.
So why waste my time,
if money is no object than why did he flee?
Off in the distance without a t

race.
ethnicity.
We simply were not meant to be.
Honna Root Nov 2015
When I think one way
the outcomes are all but the same.
Living with the repetition that resides in my head.

Disappointment
Resentment
Guilt
Shame

Makes me think that they're all right
and imperfectly the same.

Perhaps I am ill
for if I come to terms
what will be of me?

Could I live the my life
suffering alone?
I’d rather live alone
than voice my openness
about my

broken/ness.
Honna Root Sep 2015
why did i do this?
all the progress now dismissed,
i miss you, i love you, i can’t live without you.
i knew this was too true.
the wanting the yearning the ever blurring,
lines between us, perhaps even the falling is blessed.
I was your sweet succulent honey that you can’t get enough of. Good for you, good for your soul, the taste capitulates the lips around, glueing them shut so you can’t make a sound.
It’s all you needed, that little sweetness,
but honey is oh so bad for the bittersweetness.
for I am your queen, you’re life revolves around me to get one last taste of that golden empress.
You’ll do anything for that dopamine.
When you’re on that high, nothing seems to matter,
but why?
Can’t you see that intensity made you something, you’re not meant to be.
you’ve pushed your luck.
That honey bee just isn’t coming back. She’s stung you. Bled you, and now deserted you.
Wounded your soul, but little did you know, she’ll die too.
Her stinger forever in you, while you can go on,
a part of her will slowly die
in your bloodflow.
Honna Root Sep 2015
My beating heart has been ripped out my pulsating blood flow.
Those jagged claws dissects through my chest, one sharp finger at a time
I can smell the rust from my open wound traveling through the air. I glance at your left hand and saw the blood gushing from the artery.
My heart may not work but my mind will.
I wonder, do you feel remorse because I don’t, nothing but numb.
Yet you stand there too,
nothing but silence and your words lipping
“i love you”.
yet you bruised my black and blue soul, that was once gold.
Makes me think that is another fib that you tell, just because you might as well.

You try to bandage it up by shoving it back into my punctured chest.
but at this point I’ve become restless.
I fall into the ground wishing you’d save me,
instead following me to the ground but kneeling above me,
sewing my hole shut by gouging the tiny needle one thread at a time.
I am mangled.
Your thumb and forefinger held my wrist and led for a kiss
until you felt my pulse stop.
I’m sorry, this is all my fault.
  May 2015 Honna Root
Thomas Conlan
He lives through me.
He speaks to me.
He is a part of me.

He is on a different plane, whispering thoughts into my head.

They don't need me.
I don't belong here.
I am wrong, and
I long to be corrected.

He pushes these things onto me and I understand because it is Him.
His wishes and His desires must be met on a whim.
When my light shines too bright, He persuades the world to dim.

For every breath I take, He is the exhale; strangling me passively.
His whispers are the knife pushed up against my life.
Every word, a concluding phrase;
I LOVE YOU,
I LOVE YOU,
good-bye.
Completely unsatisfied until I've heard Him and have died.

He holds my hand gently, and pulls me down hard.
Guides me towards that beautiful, shining light;
The 4:08 train.

The Devil knows my name, and with it feeds me shame.
As the light begins to leave my eyes, I know that I have lived through lies.
All the words and evil things He said, were steps in every move He's led.
As I danced with the Devil inside my head, I knew that all I've loved was dread.

I can't tell if I am dreaming,
or if I'm already dead.
  Apr 2015 Honna Root
Thomas Conlan
My heart feels heavy,
And then it feels light.
My world is turning to the left,
And then it turns to the right.

One day I’ll be happy,
And then I’ll be sad.
Like waking up sane,
And going to bed mad.

This has to be a joke,
Or some kind of trick;
As to why I can’t relax.
I think I might be lovesick.

The world stands still
When I look in your eyes.
Eventually it’ll spin again
When we say our goodbyes.

Burning brighter than ever,
You’re the fire to my wick;
Melting me away,
I think I might be lovesick.

I’m on top of the world,
But I am falling fast.
Closer and closer to you,
But I’ll speed right past.

My heart stops for you,
Like a bomb that fails to tick.
Send me to the infirmary
Because I think I’m lovesick.

I've been to every doctor,
And they've ran every test,
Still they don’t know what
Is going on in my chest.

They say its racing back and forth,
To one pace, it won’t stick.
They say I’m losing control
Because I am lovesick.
  Apr 2015 Honna Root
Thomas Conlan
Like the blowing breeze through nestled trees, he walks through life, dirt on his knees. A boy, now a man, finally learned how to stand, and now he flees through this forest of dreams. Alone he must walk, until he finally sees, there is no home outside these trees.

A flower, picked up off the floor, reminds him of what she once wore. She was his core, his lost Lenore, who up and left right out their door, and like this flower, plucked from the floor, she would be lost forevermore.

As he keeps on through these dying trees, he steps on their rustled leaves. Each step echoes pain and agony, unified in a bitter sweet melody. She's gone, you pushed her, what you step on, was once her.

The cold draws breath that only he can see, illusions of what was, and what could be. He carries on with a heart well led, and although he is lost, he is not quite dead. Inside his head, a demon once fed, is the reason for what he once said, "be careful where you tread, for a man made of lead cannot be made to wed". With tears in her eyes, away she fled from this man who bled blue blood. Behind masks of frosted pain, he lifts his eyes and through his breath's cold lies, he sees his love once again.

In a floral dress she dances alone. Entranced by every sway and prance, his heart joins her in leaps and bounds. Captured by her sweet, sweet sounds, he can't believe what he's just found. A second chance to love what's lost, like how the sun gently lifts the frost from the ground. The earth does come back, full round again. He has come back to her as a friend, and he will love her until the very end.
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