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cover your eyes.i remember i came over to your house
and we watched them fall.
we crouched in front of the dimly glowing box
and tried to figure out what we should be feeling while we watched it all unfold in front of us.
we knew we were watching people, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands leave this world.
but we just saw smoke and we heard reporters screaching over one another trying to comprehend
it while maintaining a professional appearence.
but we knew that all humans watching this were trying not to break from the completely overwhelming
flood we were all feeling.
i noticed you were crying.
you didnt know anyone personally, but your heart was always the biggest and i'm sure you were trying
to make peace with someone up there and wondering why them, and why not someone else.
and i know you were never a religious person, despite your upbringing, and in that moment when people
were emerging, exhausted, confused and thankful, i knew you never would again. how could any god possibly
at best.i tired to sum it up in a way that i knew your addled brain could grasp.
i'd gotten used to simplifying things for you when you were like this.
but from my perspective, this give and take of ours left me feeling like i was
chasing that bus that turned up earlier than my brain or the timetable was
ready for, and i try and run across the street to reach it. sometimes i do,
and i get to rest and breathe. other times i almost reach it, but as my foot
hits the other side of the road it pulls away and i have to sit there and hope
it comes back around before it gets dark.
it was a clumsy way of describing it at best.
but i felt right with how much of it was up to some
higher unseen power that most of the time seemed against me.
against this cold.maybe if i had drunken more milk my bones would have been stronger,
maybe if i had not read so many magazines i wouldn't have spent
all of my senior year tearing myself apart and trying to puke my insecurities out.
maybe if i hadnt had spend so many nights out with him,
maybe if i had have gone to colorado with you that summer.
maybe if i had have picked those fucking secrets out from beneath your teeth,
and peeled them from under your tongue.
maybe then i would have been able to stop you.
maybe then i wouldn't be here.
maybe you would.
theres got to be another way.you made me so damn sure if i ever had the chance to burn something more substantial than just some metaphorical bridges.
like maybe i could set myself of fire and be reborn or just have a complete re do and try my luck at the draw of life again and hope i get an existence that doesn't make me want to just go extinct or curl up in a ball.
or at least one that had some better timing cause i'm sick of finding my way back into your life on days when all you smell
like is death or him (which to me is the same thing) and i always smell failure and utter rejection on myself when i finally make it back to my apartment after shuffling around the city like a lovesick zombie or just a lesser version of whoever i think i would be if you would stop choosing him over me.
like last night when he left, you came around and it was like once he leaves your field of vision you forget about him, like hes a god damn doctor who villian. and we talked about pocket relics and how you found the movie stub from
your parents dont need a ghost.i couldn't sleep last night
cause i kept picturing you
and then my memory tripped
and i remembered the summer we spent
cramped in your tour bus
and how before i opened my eyes completely
you and him
looked them same.
and i felt my heart stop
imagining how your parents must feel.
and then i stopped again
thinking how he must feel
every time he looks in a mirror.
Death isn't a fresh perspectiveI saw my mother
swallowing something small
when I was just a child
The anguish in her eyes
faded, as she told me
it was just a
with a little extra kick
maybe years later,
that's how I convinced
to swallow fifteen,
give me a fresh perspective;
in the end,
my breath reeked
instead of mint.
fall in love with (splitting hairline fractures)we swallow blues instead
of talking them out. oh,
kids like us are specters,
spectacles: boys counting
rib(cage)s & (de)composing
don't you hate
is a vessel
we're deities or tomb-raiders; no
in-betweens for writers these days
Dark SideThere's another side of me
A side I barely show
It's my dark side
And my pride
The time I showed it to my friends
They were shocked, worried
I will tell you what they said
Decide for me
If these are what you call
One said 'just be happy'
One said 'that isn't true!'
One said ' but I've got it much worse'
One said 'don't be annoying'
One said nothing at all
Only One listened
That could be you
This is my dark side
The one that tells the truth
It makes me write
It keeps my dreams
It is everything I have
But no one knows
i'm not going to lie and say she was perfect.her skin was spotted with what she passed off as freckles,
but what were really scars from a thousand summer suns
as she ran about outside,
climbing trees and treading rivers,
pretending to be an american bomber
in the midst of WWII.
she kept crimson stains on pearl pink lips,
which always had the habit of getting on her teeth
because she put on make-up after dressing in her car
and ordering coffee in every way she hated it
as she drove to the record store three times a day,
ignoring her job downtown.
she owned four and a half hairbrushes exactly,
i took count on the first night i stepped into that whirl-wind room,
though her lopsided up-dos of messy blonde hair revealed just how much her fingers
never broke the dust.
she had these lovely fragile hands
that showed each and every vein and bone,
the type of hands made for tearing boys like me apart.
how could i have even expected to survive,
a paper poet
held against a reckless flame?
I died todayI died today
Took my own life
I was tired
I was desperate
And now I'm dead
People never cared
So I left them behind
Now a new life awaits
Beyond the gates of Hell
each kiss carries
context and content,
sad eyes pour into mine
like a swimming pool
being filled with angels’ tears.
i cup her face in my hands,
trying to hold all of the water
that escapes her
as i gently kiss her forehead.
i will cradle her cerebrum
and maintain our composure.
i will protect you.
refers to the hands on a clock,
as well as the anatomical.
and this kiss is subtle,
but it represents our passing of time.
i started this with my mother at 13,
and only a few embraces away from 18.
with our fingers locking
themselves to adolescence.
i never have visibly blushed,
but i swear my flushed cheek
burned where your left your lips
for nearly a lifetime.
at least that’s what it felt like.
i kissed the blinds
that covered the windows
of your soul
to let you know
the sun still shone
even if your eyes were close
bone brittlethey say that love is like an ocean and you can feel the waves
filling up your stomach, saltwater rolling against your nervous system.
they say that when you're in love and you curl your toes in pleasure
you can feel wet sand between them, warm against the skin.
but your love was like a desert.
our love left me parched, throat raw, the taste of grit in my mouth.
my stomach empty, growling for some sort of sustenance,
something you always refused to give me when i needed it most.
you told me you loved me, like a mirage floating amongst our heat.
if love is like an ocean then you were loneliness, i guess.
every saltwater tear you cried evaporated into thin air.
you were the Sahara and i was the Atlantic.
we collided every time we met.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More