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X-23Maybe her name was Lily: a beauty like no other.
In the summer you would see her in the park,
Bright and graceful, her arms opening,
her fingers stretching, a bright red in her cheeks.
She welcomed all, she welcomed you.
Whenever I needed, she even welcomed me,
her eyes holding specks of her adventures. A mere peek
into her existence.
Maybe her name was Iris, a pleasant voice to have around.
She was kind, one of a million,
but one nonetheless.
She had a whicker chair in the garden. On days
that held summer breezes I sat with her,
her breath of watermelon and voice of divinity.
I would listen to her tell a million stories,
none of which I could understand.
Maybe her name was Ivy and she looked frail and dull.
She was ordinary by visage, but I'd witnessed
her amazing strength, her lengthy patience. Her ability,
one to conquer any task. She waited and prevailed.
When she spoke her words grew,
they slipped through stones, but never once
did they skip your mind. She broke through
Never Grow UpMaggie was four when her family moved to a subdivision, a new one. One with houses that held no people, one with no children to play with. Maggie bounced a ball against the garage door and Maggie played the piano when her mother told her to. Maggie read the books her parents gave her about fish and giants and princesses and dogs and boys who never grew up and Maggie played with her dolls. In the evening she watched tv with her daddy, curled up on his lap, and as he ran his fingers through her hair he explained it all to her. Wars, money, disasters, heroes, religion, people she needed to know about, people he despised She sat and listened to him speak, but never understood a word he said. Instead she'd put one ear to his belly and as she'd listen to him talk she'd listen to his insides make foreign noises and giggle and he'd smile at her as he ran his fingers through her hair and explained it all.
As time went by the houses filled with people and furniture and pets and children. Lots of
wearing all the cool clothes
boys looking at her like she's a treat
give the dogs some bones?
the scale went down since yesterday
maybe if she hits the double-digits?
pretty yellow skin, dry like a desert
distinct ribs caging a fragile heart
wrists like pages from pop-out books
just another mile... another mile... one more
she's so cold, turn up the heater... higher
and it's not even winter
another mirror check, keeps it in her pocket
sharing all her secrets with a porcelain toilet bowl
riding in a beautiful ambulance on prom night
wrap your hand around her thigh
your fingertips touch your palm
skin stretching over a skeleton
she's so cold, just so cold
lying in a pretty coffin
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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