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And if I could cry-
for just a little while
My body would run dry

Tear ducts, like air ducts
I need a replacement
The ventilation is all wrong

Misty and fogged glasses-
Impair my vision
Remove them and I am blind

Blind to the heartache-
the metaphorical bleeding
inside of my mind

Every day the pain grows-
Grows roots, roots that once
kept me grounded

Now I'm surrounded-
by the demons I once
banished

Rip the roots from my feet
and all I'm left with is nothing.

Nothing but darkness
and blank space

Dark and deep
The black hole In which I keep you
Swirls infinitely

I brace myself for impact
the meteorite sets it sights
on my chest
****** target, take aim and
gain flight

Don't miss, you'll regret it

I could be angry, but what's the point?

You're gone forever
and never coming back
© 2017 Christina Jackson
Happy birthday daddy <3 I miss you every day
C F Tinney Jan 2017
Great hallelujah!
Rejoice – a victory has come today!
In the face of society
I managed to fit in
Not one could tell I faked my way
through normalcy again

Rejoice!  Victory!
Exhausted, still I made it through
All the vomited “good mornings”
faux displays of real concern
and buried, silent yearnings

Celebrate!  Home at last!
Another day of tense smiles
Another walk upon the coals
I’m spent, completely done
I’ve paid my daily tolls

Hiding!  Alone at last!
No anxiety of interaction
No pretending to care
No people faintly catching
The way I deeply stare
Into their souls
with jealous disdain
Em Sep 2016
B
as in baby
as in babe
as in I adore you
as in be mine forever
as in maybe just till tomorrow
as in not anymore
as in strangers
as in strange
as in
S
Caroline Lee Apr 2016
and now we are here
starring at each other from across a table
a healthy divide between who I am
and everything you thought I should be
all the idealistic pictures you used to paint of the pronoun you exalted as the fantom:
'we'
all the messes we made and the even messier nights are on the table too,
I didn't forget one word.
and I know you didn't either.
and I might be sorry for talking **** and trashing the way you seemed to adopt every part of me
I might be sorry for making you cry that night I pulled away because I was breaking and you couldn't see outside of your own skin long enough to realize what your use of the weight of your skull and who's shoulder you carelessly used to prop it up for no reason at all was doing to me
what it did to me
I know what I did to you, just because I did something for me
I listened to you cry from the bunk bed below alone and tired in your forand now we are here
starring at each other from across a table
a healthy divide between who I am
and everything you thought I should be
all the idealistic pictures we used to paint of the plural pronoun you exalted as the fantom 'we'
all the messes we made and the even messier nights are on the table too
I didn't forget one word
and I know you didn't either
and I might be sorry for talking **** and trashing the way you seemed to adopt every part of me
I might be sorry for making you cry that night I pulled away because I was breaking and you couldn't see outside your own skin long enough to realize what your use of the weight of your skull and who's shoulder you carelessly used to prop it up for no reason at all was doing to me,
what it did to me
I know what I did to you just because I did something for me I listened to you cry from the bunk bed below alone and tired of trying to understand my ever changing disposition
And I too, was tired.
I was tired of you trying to keep me warm
I felt like **** but it ended up okay because you returned the favor two months later at my 18th birthday party
only I had a shoulder to cry on
and I should have seen it then but I didn't forgive you all those times I could have sworn I did
on my knees in the sanctuary begging a higher power to take the anger from me
I swore I never wanted to hate you but **** it maybe I did
fingers crossed dressed all white at the funeral
I always savored your spirals
but I'm moving on from that
and after three good ******* years of on and off behavioral tendencies
reevaluations and disconnects and fear of all that you saw in me
I'm not afraid anymore to say that there isn't any 'we'
at least not in the way you said it would be
and I don't want to pretend that I'm heartbroken over it
though I used to loose sleep at night
I don't want to pretend like there's still something here
moving on finally feels right
as we ******* over a couple cups of coffee I can see clearly that we are not the same and that we will never be
but you just keep on talking about your job and about the road trip that we'll never take and how good it feels for everything to be 'okay'
back in the old cycle of recycling the same five conversation topics trying to grasp at a singular old flame
a spark of the easy days
but all I can think about is how I've changed
I'm not the same
and the divide is clear
but here we are anyway.
Looking back but moving on.
Cat Fiske Jan 2016
Feathered head and weathered dreads,
no one comes out to play with me and my imaginary friends,
I promise were lots of fun,
we are we are,
I promise oh please,
come out and play with me,
were waiting to see,
we wait to see your fears,
and all your uncaught unsafe dreams,
fall right apart,
oh it'll be a blast, it'll be sweet,
this nightmare dream is totally neat!
don't be shy,
come eat a slice of america's mini apple pie,
but you're not allowed one bite,
until you come outside with me and my imaginary friends!
we can fake our deaths,
and rob our neighbors cars for cigarettes.
and if we see they don't have any left,
we will just borrow the money instead!
so why won't you come outside with me and my imaginary friends?
but first,
fly yourself on out the front door.
so we can destroy the world.
just you,
me
and my
imaginary friends.
idk tbh
I face that mysterious door,
Fighting my way
Step by step
Through mounds of paperwork
And applications to where I suited.

All for that intangible future
More fresh and striking than anything here
“I will go.”

My future is manifesting itself slowly,
Inexorably and inexplicably before me.

I choose to gaze at my future as infinite opportunity,
Infinite joy spread over infinite possibilities.
As that joy becomes tangible,
It also becomes more finite.

But from where I stand
I see everything ahead.
I can finally leave
Everything I’ve been tied to
And prove to myself, “I am myself.”

(3/21/14 @xirlleelang)
Jazzelle Monae May 2014
And I keep telling myself
I'm tired
When the truth is
I'm exhausted
Depleted
On the verge of
Giving up
And I keep telling myself
I'm fine
When the truth is
I'm morose
Melancholic
On the edge of
Bursting
And I just want you
To call
********
© 2014 Jazzelle Velazquez. All Rights Reserved

— The End —