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 Aug 2014 holyoak
L
butterfly
 Aug 2014 holyoak
L
Bad boys don't always come wrapped in leather jackets and cigarette smoke
But the scent of your Newport 100s stayed in my hair for weeks and weeks
And I scrubbed and scrubbed
And it didn't come out
It wouldn't come out
I remember your breath but not like yesterday
I wish your *****-stained lips had been on mine yesterday
I wish I didn't strain to remember
I wish I didn't beg to forget.
Last night I found myself smiling at the thought of your touch
I pinched myself
SNAP OUT OF IT WAKE UP NO NO NO
Reminding myself of the marks you left is worse than when you actually left
I'd like to think you were my knight in shining armor
But your armor was stolen and your knighthood was feigned and I'm just as dumb as the girls in fairytales for ever believing otherwise
You called me your butterfly
I never expected you to destroy my wings and leave me stranded
Your scar is still there, right there on my cheek, did you ever notice?
Did you ever see the others?
Did you ever care to look?
Your father never taught you how to treat a lady
Your mother never let you see her cry
And I never saw what was coming until it was too late right in my face no way to dodge or run or scream or get away
I wish I had gotten away
I wish I had known that not all bad boys own motorcycles and not all bad boys sneer and not all bad boys look like bad boys at all
Because you were a bad boy
And I still can't believe it.
 Aug 2014 holyoak
B
Night Thoughts
 Aug 2014 holyoak
B
I remember how it felt;
You fingers slowly touching my skin.
I can still hear the way you said
"I'll never let you go"

But I lay here and wonder
"Why did you let me go?"
Was it something I did or said?
Or did you decide I was no longer worth it?

As I close my eyes I still see
The way your sapphire eyes looked into mine.
My eyes open and I'm overcome with pain
Why did you leave me?

B.G.K
 Aug 2014 holyoak
Alberto Ruiz
I shall be telling this with a sigh.
That moment she put our heads together,
in the icy air of night,
seemed almost peaceful.

The sidewalks shone like alleys
of dropped maple leaves,
as we walked with a walk
that was measured and slow.

It was the darkest evening of the year
but between her and I,
all the heavens seemed to twinkle.
She was my North, my South, my East and West
in the heat and the cold
when no one else ever cared.

I thought that love would last forever:
I was wrong.
Her heart was learning to lie down forever.

To watch the woods filled up
with snow could be profound,
but only so an hour.
Then all is lost.
Stop all the clocks.
Cut off the stars.
Their greatness is a kind of grief.

I let her leave this place.
A final goodnight
as she drifted.
A black hole in space.
A final goodbye
as the stars started to fade.

I alone stay.
Last year is dead, they seem to say.
We cannot look back far
but not because of age.
Life is a stream
that sweeps us away.
The bitterness of the night matched the day.

As dawn goes down,
I have promises to keep.
Funny it seems, but by keeping
her end lost in dream,
I learned to walk without having feet.
Yet sometimes, in the distance,
I hear someone weep.
I taught myself to live without the constellations,
as I have miles to go before I sleep.

Miles to go before I sleep.

[ARH]
 Aug 2014 holyoak
Tom Leveille
and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

— The End —