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Path to FriendshipWhile I may not be ready to be friends just yet I am willing to take the first steps down a long road. Even if I trip up and fall I am willing to pick myself up and try again. I am not aware of how long this road will be however I know that it is longer than I thought it would be.
Are you willing to hold my hand as I travel along it, to hold me up as I fall, to put the daily effort into the journey? I am willing to venture on the path less traveled. The path is wide enough for two and if you wish to not travel with me you will be staying behind me watching my back as I walk proudly forward. However if you choose to stay behind my hike will be a lonely one.
I would wish for you to travel at my side, both of us guiding the other along the way. I have been waiting for your answer, and only just have you giving me any response. However your answer was vague and worrying to me.
So I ask once more will you walk the dark forest trail with me? Tripping and falling along the way. Holding and gu
NorseThe sight of the two acting as if as one is enough to release the chains of fenris
Tempted to release all of the words learned by Ratatoskr onto either of the two
And just like the hand of Tyr bit off by Fenris my hands are no longer under control
Just like Frigg parading her son Baldur around, Loki is once again tempted to ask the mistletoe to help bring them back down to a mortal level
Poison forever dripping upon my body to writhe in agony until the end of days
But yet holding it all inside churning and boiling the linings of my stomach until she fulfills her promise and lets loose all of the secrets she is hiding in fear of all of this
Until that Promised day I wait with an open mind, open arms and closed hands.
With no end in sight and no mend within reach, most of the poison has already spilled
Some of it onto others, innocent bystanders seeing the struggle of two lovers whose hourglass has long been emptied
A glass of which neither touch in fear of the remaining poiso
The Cycle of HopeHow complicated is it when two like each other?
~Enough to scare some off for life.
How difficult is it to choose to end it all before it takes a turn for the worst?
~Enough to weaken the strongest of men.
How brave one must be to stand in front of another to voice ones opinions that will injure the other?
~Enough to make the most courageous quiver.
How magically it starts, how majestically it escalates, how wonderfully it climaxes, how tragically it falls, and how disastrously it terminates.
~Hope to passion, Passion to romance, Romance to love, Love to fear, Fear to hope.
How does one pick up pieces after they are dropped?
~To numerous are the pieces for even the most capable to do alone.
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
specter boys have always looked best sinkinghe says,
i want to count all 206 &
feel the notches of your ribs -
i want you, weary boy, to
phase yourself down while
you are burning inside out.
i will seethe inside your skull
like thoughts, like cigarette filters;
you will thank me as i molder in your marrow.
Moira (Excelsior)Moira (Excelsior)
hands clap over my eyes
like a chain clasp
linking lace around my neck.
and our clutch.
splitting into a wide upward curve,
canines and incisors cut through screens.
time rotates in a downward degree
360 degrees infinitely,
but the days are confined to finite.
and if i could, i'd connect the 12 lines
and walk along them endlessly.
i'd lose the ability to dream
and i'd never have to mingle
with the cousin of death.
living forever as a verb,
until time laps around the track
about 10 million times before
it has lost its legs.
i don't wanna sleep,
i want to dream
in an empirical reality.
hold the old time in my hand
and let the prospect bleed
into the prophecy.
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Tonight, I finished a roll of toilet paper
that I had started
a month, 8 days,
two hours, and 21 minutes ago.
Its genesis, June 11th,
one of the worst nights of my life,
I took a roll from my small bathroom,
and silently tucked it under my arm.
I couldn't let my girls know.
They couldn't know
I was going to use this as my broom.
They couldn't know
that I swept my shattered heart
under my bed.
And I wept.
My pillow taking my abuse,
my suffocation and my attacks.
My fingers squeezing it for dear life
and my knuckles as I punched it,
imagining it was her.
Then hugging it.
I only cried that hard
when I was about 6.
She was gone.
And so was I.
I cried every night
which would've marked
our 7-month anniversary.
And in the late days of that month,
I lied to myself.
And for that,
I regret every moment.
I wasn't ready.
At least I stopped it,
before we drowned each other
like the last woman.
Two weeks lat
EmberWhere once there was excess now there is absence
The heart that once skipped only for you
Now is filled with an unforgiving silence
Never forgetting the pain of the last injury
Where once my heart fluttered now it only beats
The beats fewer and further in-between than before our meeting
Before our kindled flame and our roaring flames
Where once the beats were strong and musical
Now are just simple and necessary to function
The embers of what was had are still burning
Different from the flames that crested high
Before yellow, red and orange now just a faint glow
This glow is all that can be seen in the dark
The dark of the unforeseen
The black of the unknown
The uncertainty of this, our new surroundings, we stare at the glow wishing for the fire and flames to crest high once again, or yet even put off heat to warm the cold of the night.
Neither reaching to rekindle the embers waiting for the other, but one must start.
One must brave the dark the black the uncertainty the unknown.
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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