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Emily Tyler Feb 2013
Livie told her parents
About the cuts on her wrists
From the girls at school
And the calorie counting
In a little green notebook shoved into pockets.

Livie's parents
Fed her
To the dragon called
Mr. Therepist
Who chewed forever.

And he plumped her up
With lies
So that they spilled from her mouth
Like a fountain.
And she threw up
So many times
That she started to believe them.

And
Mr. Therepist
Spit her out
In a big
Sticky
***.
Shaped my monster spit
And
Stomach acid
From when she threw up lies.

And though she was finally in school,
Livie stayed gone.

Livie had dissolved in the dragon's stomach,
Leaving piles of bones
And shadows
Under eyes.


She never came back.
I changed her name because the word Livie flows a lot better than her name.
Quand Auguste mourut, Rome, donnant l'exemple,
Sur le mont Palatin lui fit bâtir un temple ;
Et Livie y dressa des figures d'airain ;
Elle mit au sommet du fronton souverain
Neptune et Jupiter, et sous le péristyle
Le mime Claudius et le danseur Bathylle.
lizie May 31
julie is soft strength,
a quiet kind of knowing,
she says “i love you” like breathing,
and means it every time.

manda is a wildfire,
messy and loud and full of heart,
she will fight the world for you,
and never ask for thanks.

livie is my reflection,
stormy one second, laughing the next,
she understands me in a way
that doesn’t need explanation.

they hold pieces of me
i forgot i gave away,
tiny, stubborn fragments
i’d never find alone.

they are not the same.
they are not always gentle.
but they are mine.

and they are everything.

— The End —