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  Apr 2014 Zabada Zipporah
Carsyn Smith
Walk with me, if you please,
in the graveyard that was once
our Eden.
Every flower seems to perk at your touch,
our rose bursting into crimson bloom.
It was easy letting you walk from Eden,
my heart was ready,
the Goodbyes were prepared --
It was the realization at startled me:
this blossom is nothing more than a ****
through the eyes of the next person I invite.
Never again will I plant another flower like that,
not exactly,
not with your touch and your embrace.
No one will ever see the beauty that we see,
forever will the rose be something only you and I will share.
More and more flowers will be planted,
more and more will shrivel into barren hips,
and maybe one day I'll find someone to stop the infestation.
Until then, I cherish the beautiful roses,
the ones planted in laughter and love,
not the ones thrown to the earth with rage and sorrow.
You will not be forgotten,
the rose will not allow it.
I know you will not want to walk with me,
but know that the flowers will remain
just as your good memory hovers above the roses.
  Apr 2014 Zabada Zipporah
madison
Deep.
So deep,
The knife slices and dices up her skin.
On her arms and legs. Trying to feel something, anything.
The old scars fade but new ones will soon form whenever she is left alone.
Her mother pesters her with questions,
"What happened dear?"
"Are you alright?"
"How did these get there?"
She brushes it off with an, "I fell." or "It's just a scratch."
She climbs the staircase to her room,
Finds the secret drawer and pulls out her biggest blade.
Sometimes she cuts a little, and sometimes she cuts a lot.
But this time, she aims it at her throat
And cuts as deep as she can.
Slowly watching the blood run down her neck,
Until things start to become fuzzy and dark.
She gives one last cut, deeper than ever before.
And for the first time in a long time, she feels.
Feels pain, but at least that's  something. Anything.
Her body slumps to the floor
And she lets out a whisper,
*"I'm free."
  Apr 2014 Zabada Zipporah
Jessie
I walked for eternity
and could not find one place
to sit and rest my tired bones in peace
that did not have car atrocities echoing in the distance
and did not have styrofoam cups poisoning the ground.

For once, I would like
to know what it would be like
to find a clear creek and
scoop up the crisp water
with my bare hands and naked soul
and drink its essence
without disintegrating
from the chemicals.
belated earth day poem
Zabada Zipporah Apr 2014
where the looming darkness is like searing 50ton gold up against the sun, and the only light is of the moon yet some hides in the hearts of the brave.
only to dance behind the eyes of the innocent.
our sky is not for limitless reaching but for ghosts of memories- tossed over the heads of the hurt. lingering in the air like thick fogs of thunder stinging those who wish to feel.
with each silky wave our seas gray of emotion, step by step its potent.
******* you of all your insecurities and restoring serenity.
we were broken stones unturned in the fields of the weak.
letting fear just dwell..
to a place where emotion is delusional!
because our hearts are cradled by the dark.
emotion is just a seduction of the mind, so we go to a place
where the broken is redeemable
and fragmentary souls mend themselves.
it is only here where the rain cries for the dried eyes
and wraps coldly around the lonely
given a sense of mother to child security.
almost like heaven but not quite there yet.
almost lifeless but you've reached a place..
almost like a different dimension,
something the ignorant would call "rock bottom"  
but I've witnessed the stench of  death the remains
on the gallows dangling like swing sets
because it is not often that the weakened can just stand alone.
i too was a victim of cherry blossom red against silver.
substituting pain for just 2 seconds of a blissful reality.
more accepting of the physical because i could not explain
what my brain was bawling to me.
then i found myself at a place
where it was okay to scream and i could finally breathe
i gave up my old habits when the darkness
started fighting internally.
the a place where my demons could no longer conquer me.
this piece was kinda hard for me, but please gimme your thoughts on it! thanks!
  Apr 2014 Zabada Zipporah
Carsyn Smith
If you don't want me to go,
don't push me away.
If you don't want me to stay,
don't pull me closer.
If you don't want to remember,
don't ask me to explain.
Tell me to leave
only after you've held me close.
Tell me you hate me
only after you've stolen a kiss.
Tell me you're sorry
only after you've left bruises.

Tell me you love me
and I'll stay.
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