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as Oct 2017
There was too much life in that man for him to...
2. It is possible to associate sadness with your name.
3. Strength now walks without a counterpart. She is tired.
4. Your un-presence billows louder than your renditions of "O Sole Mio" ever did throughout this home - throughout this heart
5. There will be no more music. Only everlasting echo
6. The sound of shuffling slippers was my favourite song
7. This house is now a museum. I am 5 years old, flashlight in hand, creeping creaky corridors. I stare as each of his artifacts slowly disappears before my very eyes.
8. We share the same shoe size
9. Now, when I remember him, I think of his hands - sturdy as he grates orange peel, fennel, Parmigiano-Reggiano, smooth as he stirs his shaving cream - Forever moving
10. This hospital is now a museum. I am 21 years old, sister's hand in hand. We all stare as he (yes, you) slowly disappears before our very eyes
11. There was too much life in that man for him to be ever silenced by un-music box
12. There was too much life in that man for anyone to be able to fill his shoes
13. There was too much life in that man for him to disappear with artifact body
14. Now, this man, he is somewhere untouched - the smell of orange and fennel fill his pockets (saved for rainy days). He lives inside and out of The Music, with soles(souls) bouncing.
There’s I place I go to
When you cross my mind
It’s almost as if your still there
By my side
Whispering in my ear
Caressing my palm

We called it the bridge to nowhere

I remember meeting you there
Sitting near the end
Staring out towards the water
You approaching me

I remember looking up
At your perfect tanned face
Your messy dark hair
Your mesmerizing gold eyes
Casually wearing your football jersey.

I remember your simple hello
Your nervous chuckle
Your silly smile.

I remember smiling back
And inviting you to sit.

Our first meeting on the bridge to nowhere

I remember sneaking out after dark
To meet you there
Just to lay on the bare wooden boards
Staring at the moon

I remember the smell of flowers that spring
branches blooming nearby
The smell of smoke and spices
Forever embedded in your clothes.

I remember your singing
Sweet nothings
in Spanish
Softly in my ear

Entwined together on the bridge to nowhere

I remember your high school graduation
Your mother so proud
Your sister excited
Your father crying

I remember your first game in college
Your running onto the field
Pride and joy in your eyes
Though you didn’t play
Because of that sprained wrist

I remember your sweaty embrace
And your ramblings
of the game
Reviewing every play
Your eyes shimmering with excitement

Racing to the bridge to nowhere

I remember that call
Which changed my life
My heart stopped
I couldn’t think

I remember rushing
to the hospital
Crying with your little sister
Collapsed on the floor

I remember your bloodied face
Wrapped in linen
Tubes bursting from your chest

I wanted to race to the bridge to nowhere

I remember spending my nights
Curled by your side
Willing you to stay
Strong

I remember that endless tone
That said you were gone

I cried at the bridge to nowhere

I remember curling up in your hoodie
Smelling you
Pretending it was you
Your arms surrounding me

I remember lying by the stone
That recalled your name
Talking to you
Burning letters by the small candle

I remember cleaning out your room
With your mother and sister
Finding that little box by your bed
Your final gift to me

I opened it at the bridge to nowhere

I still go there sometimes
With a letter filled
With promises to you
And a flame by which to send it.
alexandra Jan 2019
I am cursed.I don't know how much sorrow I can  take.Hold me until I'm gone,until I leave my last breath.
Our hands always entwined and never apart.Our hearts exposed and our palms travelling through our soft breathings.Feel the sensations we carry.
No,it's not arousal.If it was arousal then there wouldn't carry any sympathy or even pity.I'm begging for several nights.I'm on my knees and waiting for your sweet embrace.
Your touch makes my eyes water and my mind ready to explode from it's many conspirancies. Conspirancies about love.Conspiracies about the future.
Oh how beautiful the wonders you have made.How pure thee are.
Thus,I'm building up myself.I'm preparing myself in order to face you.Face that unexpected comfort of yours.Face the rehabilitation of our romance.
Oh how many generations have been wasted.How much love has been gone through the ages.Through the stages of love.
Thus I'm still begging and crying and mumbling sweet nothings.But my words are filled with air and they can't fix what's broken.
And in the end I'm still on my kness,staring at the nightsky,eyes wet,voice sore from screaming,hands ****** from  open wounds,and soul ready to fade from what is gone.
I never fully understood the meaning of the  word “mourn” until this year -
To truly feel the loss of another concentrated in its purest form.

I never believed when others would say
“I miss you more, in  each and every day” or
“There’s not an hour goes by, without a thought of you on my mind”
As if Loss is an unforgotten constant in the trails of the trivial,
We are only human after all.

But I was naive, through and through.
Loss never leaves your side once you meet
Loss is a friend for life.
The kind that shows their face in the most unpredictable moments,
Who never fades away or falls out,
Becoming more aquatinted as we go through life.

Loss is selfish, wanting our undivided attention,
Expecting us to indulge in its deep dark thoughts with strong pretension.

Loss is harsh, not hiding nor sugarcoating any enemy attack,
Facing us with the reality of control and just how much we lack.

Loss is bitter, Loss is unkind
Loss is a thief, stealing our piece of mind.

Loss is jealous, Loss is sly.
Is it absent of Love,
Or has Love left it’s side?
Breon Jan 2019
The lights stretch back for miles, hollow stares
all trained toward the twisted, shattered steel,
waved on in pairs and threes like visitation lines
at ******'s speed, slow enough for a glimpse,
high enough for everyone to get a turn.
The night turns every shade of paint black,
each window to a tinted mourner's veil,
glass shards strewn by an uncaring hand
to scintillate like starlight in the glare,
sirens wailing away like the bereaved.
Ian Robinson Jan 2019
It was reddish with the sky all to white
a silent wind hushed the painted day sky
And forward I faced my back towards the night
and I soared with that warm wind ever so high

Up so high where I can breathe so clearly
Fleeing with the storm clouds drawing so near
I attempt to escape my hate hastily
The cleaver draws ever closer to my dear

Flying up to the man's neck with my shear
Without saying goodbye i take my stride
and quickly "He's dead, gone" i clearly hear
Again i take to the wind and the morning
I save time by changing and taking sides

I hope to get home swift before scorning
And go join in the day break aborning
This is what i call a broken sonnet as it has 15 lines instead of 14 but it still has 10 syllables per line
Ring... ring...

Pick up the phone,
Knees chattering,
Where’s my breath,
Oh god,
Ten minutes till my shift,
Kyles dead,
I just hugged him
12 hours prior,
I said goodnight,
I love you,
See you tomorrow,

But for him,
Tomorrow never came,
Why did I answer the phone,
How can I face the space
That you no longer occupy,
Why couldn’t you resist
That sweet high,
I miss you,

Another friend gone to early,
Every hit you took a gamble,
Your bed became your grave,
You sister just got married last
Week,
You were the best man,
This was suppose to be
The happiest time of her life,
Instead of planning her honey moon,
She’s planning your wake,

You never wore anything
Other than black,
Always dressed like
You were going to a funeral,
Now we’re at yours,
It’s a closed casket,
You sister is sobbing,
Your best friend is broken,
Your girlfriend lost her voice,
I’m hoping your body isn’t really
In that box,

You loved jack Daniels,
So that’s what we drank
Until the sun rose
For the first time
Without you,
It’s was August 25th,
I never did go back
For that last shift,
How could I without you?

It’s December now and it’ll
Be your mother’s first Christmas
Without her son,
Your sister has been taking
Care of your girlfriend,
They cling together
So that they don’t succumb
To the numb,
It’ll be the first time in three
Years I spend New Years
Without you,
Your best friend moved away,
It was too painful to stay,
Cause every place in town
Feels empty without you,

We don’t go to grand central anymore,
Cause it was your favorite bar,
And the memories are still too fresh,
God ****** Kyle,
Why didn’t you tell us you had an addiction,
God ******,
Why didn’t we notice
Until August 25th.
We miss you Kyle, more and more each day. Rest In Peace my friend, until we meet again someday.
Kyla Plummer Dec 2018
She is with you Sir,
But you pummel her so.
It has been five years.
Torturous, agonizing
She is without child.
You know she cries herself to sleep?

For only you and child,
Her heart bleeds.
No longer red
Black blood she bleeds.
Every night you try
She cries, she pleads.
Yet she is without child.

It's safe to say her name
Has changed for love this cannot be.
You made her hatred thick.
A blade she
Takes, she draws in big -
Block. Words. 'SORRY'

I hope she doesn't strike
That vein. May not, she may.
She prays endlessly to Hera.
Her heart is dead,
Her soul is red.
A furnace for her spirit.

Hera take pity on thy soul;
Take this ache away.
Here again you pummel her so.

Bright light and now-
She sits before the King's feet.

On bended knee,
Gabriel by her side.
He dried her eyes.
'Don't cry my child-
For you are now home'
The right side thief
Looked down on she
'You are with The Father, your mother
And father.

Do you now see thou cruel
Sir? You granted her a wish.
Something she never asked you for.
She looks down on you
And now she smiles. Her ex-
Husband, lover, friend has made her happy again.

Do you now see thou cruel
Sir? You shall live in guilt.
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