Posts
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What Is Left?
When all we have is spent
What will we have left?
Like an animal that runs through the forestSearching for the last of its kind to go
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If Only I Could
I could worry about the little things
The little things that don't matter
The material things
The things nobody but myself sees -
When it's time
When I am no longer myself
And you are no longer yourself
Will we meet again? -
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A piece of my past
"After time passes it'll hurt less"
But it never did
"Just forget it, it was so long ago"
But you told me always to remember
And each and every day
A little reminder in my eyes -
I'll miss you
I'll miss you
I'll miss you every time I hear that song
And every time I feel the need to tell someone something
That I know they don't need to hear
I'll miss you every fall
And every winter
Loves
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Pen Pal
I write in pen
to get comfortable with my mistakes
to catch all my thoughts
scatterbrained
and fleeting
pens scratch the itch to write
better than any graphite
the use of ink before pencils
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The Season of Death
Death reaches his hands
Shrivels leaves
Rips them up
Soon the ghosts and ghouls will scream
They've waited all year for Halloween
But this death is not a scary thought
In fact it's comforting
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With My Mother in My Chest. My Chest
Eight AM, I wake in my father’s home with my mother in my chest.