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Morgan Feb 2014
the first night you wrapped your arms around my waist and kissed my forehead, i cried myself to sleep
and the first morning you called just to say "have a good day", i failed a math test
the first afternoon we spent lying in your bed, i screamed with the window down the whole way home
the first time we fought, i smoked a pack of cigarettes in my drive way with my hands shaking violently and my knees pulled up to my chest
and the first time we made up, i spent three days writing poems about the skin on your fingertips and the shadows under your eyes
"i didn't get home until pretty late, so i didn't want to wake you, but if you get this in the morning, i hope you have a good day at school... call me when you get home.. oh, and...
i love you, i love you, i love you.
okay"
i listened to that voice mail every day for the first week that we did not speak.
and re-read text messages for the first month and a half.
i still remember deleting it all. she held my hand and said, "you can't keep torturing yourself." i held my breath and said, "well there, i'm free."
but i felt the walls caving in on me.
and i couldn't understand why i needed the sound of your laugh more than the roof over my head.
and i couldn't understand how my skull fit into the bend of your elbow with more ease than my tempurpedic pillow.
"i'm sorry i haven't gotten in touch with you. i wasn't sure if it'd hurt you to hear from me... but i do miss you a lot and i hope everything is okay."
your name danced across the screen of my phone,
one time at 2:00 A.M. and i felt nauseous all of the following day.

my sister and i
swam in the hotel swimming pool
last weekend when we were away
and the smell of chlorine in my hair
made my stomach turn, because
it reminded me of the summer
we fell asleep on the floor of my living
room, with our bathing suits on
every night for three weeks straight

most days the sense of longing
is so strong that it knocks the wind
from my lungs
and i'm just afraid
that i'll never learn
to breathe easy again
Mitchell Nov 2012
Everyday
As I am lifted from
The depths of
Bullet transportation

Up
And
Out

To the busy city street
Leading me to where
I'm supposed to go

The word Conveyor Belt
Comes to mind

Every face
The same
As the day before

Clouds white and stained
Stupid, unworthy pillows
That the angels won't even touch -
They prefer that Tempurpedic stuff

Expensive taste
Those angel's have

God must have
Rubbed off on them

The belt spins
The bolts are stainless
Shining naked like a
New born baby in the
Sacramento River sunlight

The oil thicker
Than the first mud of Earth

Thicker than one-hundred faceless
Soldier's blood
Mixed to perfection
With sympathy and
Black newspaper ink

Thick as the human heart
In its final moments

The last three beats
Echoing loud like the screams
Within the insane asylums and
Delivery rooms:

Buh-bump,

Buh-bump,

Buh-bump.

Then,
At long last,

Silence
ash Dec 2020
Once upon a time, you and i ruled the world.
Our little piece of it, anyways.
We were the mermaids and the witches and the princesses of the best backyard i’d ever seen,
We perfected the art of microwave s’mores and
Cannon *****
And we cried the way that only prepubescent girls can.
We had each other until we didn’t
Until we did,
And so it goes.

Our lives look different now.
The world is bigger than it seemed before,
And crueler.
We always talked about how we’d get here one day,
We just never imagined what it would take from us.

Somewhere along the way,
You and i traded in chasing golf ***** for chasing highs.
And dreams.
And men who always seem to overstay their welcome.
At some point,
we learned how to swallow hard
and keep our heads down through the thick of it
And to fight like hell to get to the other side.
Neither one of us made it through unscathed,
We were beaten and broken until we weren’t sure if we even had enough left to make a life worth living.
I couldn’t tell you how we did it,
But ****, i’m glad we managed.


I suspect that you and i,
We’ll be sitting on one another's beds
Recounting each and every scar
until we’re 90.
Maybe one day we’ll upgrade to King sized tempurpedic mattresses with silk sheets.
Maybe one day you’ll be breastfeeding your (second) baby.
Or we’ll be going over my (second) divorce papers
Or we’ll be planning a wedding.
Maybe we’ll be somewhere warm and worthwhile
Or stuck in the same cornfields we’ve always known
(please, god, anywhere but the cornfields)


To be honest,
I have no idea what our talks will look like in 10, 20 years.
What i do know is that it’ll always be you and i
Far too late at night
Staining the comforter with tears and wine and our bleeding hearts,
And for a little while
We’ll remember what it was like to rule the world.
Even just a little piece of it.


a.m.

— The End —