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She follows the words with grace.
The happiness of being alone
Holding the key to a new reality
Is all too familiar
To this little girl
(c)ibarker
the familiar feeling of a tear running down my cheek
comforts me, inviting
a wave of sadness
I know that feeling of being lost
I know that feeling that there is no one out there who understands
What you're going through and the emotions that you have

But listen to me
Hear these words that I'm about to say
I understand what you're going through
The emotions that you are feeling
I understand and I want to help

Because once ago
I was going through
The same thing
(c)Ibarker
dead memories hang
reflections entombed within

residing on string
'you're such a good girl'
beep beep beep

unfamiliar breathing, followed by
silence. my naked body is
alone on my bed sheets.
loneliness breaks my own hand and
morals for a way to get
off but i don't. i sit there and
conjure up sweet whisperings
of how i want you. *******,
deep and hard and cold.

if i'm such a good girl, then
tell me. why do i wish my flesh
will melt away like the leaves?
masochistic idiosyncrasies
wrap my vanilla heart up in
a pretty little bow. your fingers
beg to scratch off my humanity;
they have to wait their turn.
This is dark and raw and real and no one will like it
'people come in your life, and people go,'

that phrase is sinful, that phrase is brutal.

if you come across a gentle soul, one that touches your heart,
don't let them
go.

if people move your soul to dance,
keep them there with you.

Maybe the good in your life is meant to come in,
and
stay,

for more than a little while.
in 2013, a few months after I was released from a long term treatment facility that tried to heal my depression, my want to die, I met a boy. His name was Zach, and we fell in love. We didn't fall sexually in love, but we fell into a slow progression of an understatement for one other. We became connected spiritually. However, after a few years, our love for one another faded. He wrote me a love letter in 2014, sprayed it with perfume and colored the paper in water colors. That was around the time we stopped talking. Now, years and years later, he's gone. Like a ghost of a dead person. All of his social media is gone. I don't know whether or not he is still breathing . It hurts terribly not to know, though. I should've kept him closer. I regret the loss of him more than almost anything.
eyes soaked in day-old makeup,
hands numb from sleeping on them too long,
hair with enough grease to shine a car,
picking at my head, just to see it snow
in the fall when everyone goes back to school
in the autumn where children learn apostrophes
and commas and semi colons
when they learn being creative is breaking the rules
and rule breakers often go to jail, or even prison
I remember hearing the sound of crackers clanking
and smashing around in my mouth when I was
around 4 years old
I couldn't understand why I heard such loud sounds
and wondered if anyone else heard me?
I still wonder if anyone hears me
that the words don't just go through the optic nerve,
but they travel to the heart sooner
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