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We made wishes on dandelions


Tried to find images in the clouds


And at night


We rearranged the stars

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Do you ever feel like


Broken glass


As if


The peices do not fit


And


What you see


Is distorted


Nothing


Just is


 

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Tired of these four white walls suffocating me


Tired of this ceiling encaging me


I will break through this room and set myself free


Walls crumbling, windows crashing, ceiling clashing into the floor


Busting through and there will be wall no more


Tired of this patch of tile


Can’t wait to walk on grass


My feet are sinking, sticking, staying on the floor


Wish I could fly and not touch this tile anymore


I’m going to run out


I need to break through


To the other side, that’s where I’ll see you


Tired of all these walls



 


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Teach me how to embrace your lips


Don't lecture about social sciences


Instead conduct an experiment


Fit me into your equation


Help to find the critical value


Explore our correlation


Form a regression


Forget the intervening variable


Instruct me through a research examination

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It's actually rather brilliant the way he did it, as if we were pulled together by some universal bond.  


However, this reaction penetrated the series of walls I've carefully constructed.


He's shown me how to maintain bouyancy.


Density.


Showed I was a waste of matter, was comfortable floating.


Was once hot.


Then expanded to cool these particles.


We went out with a bang.

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I see him watching out of the corner of his eyes


The gentle stare that invites you in


I want to kiss him touch the corner of his mouth feel his lips pressed against mine then more within time


Even though we know each other it’s still as if we were strangers


And I know my wants are strange than fiction


The only thing that stands between us is this imaginary wall we can’t break through


The only thing that should be in this room is me and you


Over taken by the thought of him


Us alone that could be dangerous but I have a taste for danger


The only thing that stays between us are these seats


Binding us lining up every disc in are vertebrae making us stiff and numb


Emotionless unable to stand up


What lies between us is this floor


Unable to move our feet


This floor can destroy us this chair just annoys us this wall will fall and you and I will be left


Get ready and catch your breath


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maybe is false hope


maybe is a broken promise


instead of no


might be, we'll see, could be


maybe.


statistics show


that maybe is linked to no


don't lie to me


simple question should be answered with a simple yes or no


not a maybe


don't beat around the bush


be blunt


don't be a maybe

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I imagine she's lovely


With long gold locks to her shoulders


And eyes as clear as the sky


With legs that float on sidewalks


And a sense of humor approved by your guys


She must own every room she walks in


She probably has a voice as soft as butter


That melts on any ear it touches


She must be cunning


But I'm a zero


With short hair as brown as the mudd you track


And my legs, well they make side walks crumble


While my eyes are indecisive when it comes to color


And my sense of humor is rather dry


I slip under the radar


My voice is robotic


Making the ears it lands on kick into overdrive


I stutter when I'm nervous


I'm far from perfect

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        Some lessons in life cannot be learned from a text book.  What I’ve learned about life I’ve learned from rowing.  It’s the start of the race and the coxswain controls the direction of the bow ball.  The current pushes me back as I wait for the regulator to yell, “Attention row”, on his megaphone.  I’m at the start of the stroke with my inside arm brushing against my knees, between my bent legs.  Then I jump off with my legs and feel the weight of the boat which makes the first couple of strokes the most difficult.  From a young age I was in and out of family court watching my parents fight for custody.  In a way the judge showed more compassion about the situation than my own parents.  I remember speaking to her and she kept reassuring me that the mess was not my fault.  She kept repeating in a soft voice, “Everything will be okay.”           


        I keep pushing off with my legs as hard and swiftly as possible to the finish of the stroke to feather.  Then I slowly come back up to the catch, pushing my arms away from my body, bringing my upper body over so as the oar passes over my knees and began to roll up to un-feather the oar.  I’m going against the current trying to pick up speed.  According to statistics, like my mom, I too should have been a teen mother and in a sense I was.  I cleaned the house, cooked dinner, and watched my brother and sisters while my mom was at work.  In a way, I was a parent to her as well.  I had to step in when her abusive relationship got out of control while stopping my siblings from seeing the violence.  It took me years to put things into perspective and to understand my mom.  She sacrificed her youth for her children and possibly more with the benefits of having another income being brought into the home.


       The boat builds up momentum.  The coxswain plays with the rope to move the tiller and it cuts through the water.  She is in complete control as the direction the vessel shifts.  The speed increases and the weight of the boat begins to decrease, making each stroke easier as I move with the rhythm of my seat.   The wheels start to move up the track effortlessly as the boat moves beneath me.  What happened in my past did not stop me from becoming the first person in my family to graduate High School with honors or being the first to go to college and stay.  There’s an underlying emotion of inferiority with each step.  All the pressures of home life began to fade.  The wind kisses my face as it dances through my hair.  I began to feel far less pressure as I jump off the foot stretchers with the strength I have left in my legs.  The wheels on the bottom of the seat move with no hesitation as the vessel races beneath my body.  The current is too weak to slow me down with the more strokes that I take.  The weightlessness, the jerking forward and the rhythmic motion does not tie me down.  The simplest feeling of all these factors makes it seem as if I’m defying gravity, as if I were flying over the water, against the current and through the wind.  The voices that told me I wasn’t good enough vanish.  I feel free

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Mother,


                Down to my core I was infected before you.  Hearing your screams late at night made it impossible to sleep.  Watching you spend hours trying to cover up your black eye so you could survive another day at work.  Yet you still let him stay.  This is when the disease took its toll.  I wasn’t even eight years old when I started to decay.  You were so dependent on him or did you just want to be loved?  It’s pathetic how he’d come crawling back.  In a short amount of time evolution came to play.  His back straightened out and one foot followed another as you followed him town to town.  His hand still not let down.  This is when my plague peeked. You chose him over me.


                The disease took over.  I couldn’t control my speech.  I spoke my mind mom, I wasn’t happy.  I tried to fight it.  I kept bitting my tounge, forgetting to think before I speak.  But your words were no remedy.  At this point there was no cure.  I need you to feel how I felt.  A choking when you cry, suffocation when being hugged, to feel nothing around the person you love.  I had succeeded.  You say I’m a virus that makes you sick, but I’m more than that.  I’m crawling inside your head, borrowing inside your brain.  I’m the last thought you have before you drift to sleep and that slowly kills you inside, doesn’t it, the fact that you can’t control me. 


                Your eldest daughter


 


Ps,


                I will always love you.


 


 


 

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Why couldn't you just love me


I hoped I was what you wanted me to be


You told me you were sorry


And my reply wasn’t sincere


Then you told me the two of you weren’t working out


And your voice is all I hear


I wait at the door hoping you would come through


But the only time I see you is when I don’t want to


I don’t want to believe them but the rumors are true


And I have many regrets but never the day I met you


I want to believe you when you say those three small words


Even though I know it’s a beautiful lie

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You draw a map


Of my body with your hands


I nibble on your bottom lip


Bite into a Sunday school apple


You undress me


Raking autumn leaves


Cold sheets pressed against my back


Making angels in the snow


An ocean of pleasure


Summer waves that rush the shore


I feel you swelling


An expanding canal after the rain


Brush my nose against your cheek to meet the small hairs sprouting


Dew in the evening


Arm stretching across my chest, hand embracing my breast


My fingers dance through your curls


Hated haircuts


Listen to your breath


Swimming in shallow lake


Feel the pounding of your encaged heart resting under my head


Playing with sand


Forgotten


Dusty toys in the attic


 

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This could be dangerous


nothing to claim


Kiss


huanting


Creeping up


want him so bad


In a different way


Simple


Careless


Call me heartless


He gets jealous


Young and allowed to be reckless


All I know is


This could be dangerous

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