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BraveCurled in a ball at the foot of your bed makes it easy to think there's nothing in the world but you.Brave by Blue-Jester
Reviewing the day, you had seemed off; detached. Now you sat at the side of the bed, staring out the window, a hand on your dog's head.
I just wanted to see you end the night with a smile.
"I know it sounded like I was joking when I said it earlier, but you know I was serious, right? You are my hero."
'Why' is a cold word. An unsure word. A word that's been broken and shakily put back together to form some semblance of what it once was and begs for explanations that don't exist.
I hate it the second it leaves your mouth.
"You're the most certain person I know. And always so brave".
You turn your head only a bit from your seat at the side bed, a sadness tugging your lips up in the slightest of smiles before you speak softly.
"You make me brave".
I want a different smile.
You and IThe door is thrown wide open as you come running out, direct and focused as ever.You and I by Blue-Jester
You still saw me and paused though you were heading for your hideous car.
I was sitting on the stone wall thirty feet away past the garden and benches, barely in the light from the bright church window.
You changed course and slowly approached my wall.
I was looking at the silhouette of tree branches against the night sky.
You were looking at designs and blueprints.
I contemplated jumping off the other side and going for a walk.
You would have caught up.
I never knew someone so genuine.
Your long limbs make it easy for you to climb up next to me.
I looked at the flowers on the ground.
You looked at me on the wall.
I calmly say "nothing" when you ask me what's wrong.
You don't believe me.
I'm carried in your arms from the wall where you plucked me to a bench under a vine canopy.
You set me down with surprisingly gentle movements.
I clutch my fists on my lap and try not to shake.
You lightly put an arm arou
Three-Term ContingencyI've been thinkingThree-Term Contingency by Blue-Jester
of bad habits I broke.
But maybe now isn't the time.
It hurts to breathe
and I exhale out short sentences
raspy with razor blades and viral mucus in my throat
making it hard to maneuver my voice.
When did I last eat?
I keep losing weight.
I've got all these apologies bubbling
in my chest for faults and failings
so that I can't help but to believe I'm lacking
in the substantial things.
The important things.
This must be my punishment.
I'm missing the things that make me an acceptable person.
The digits reading 100.3 every day don't surprise me anymore.
No, now isn't the time to talk.
These consequences are too weak for my actions
I know the diseases are still there
from the lumps on my neck
and the tired slouch in my usually straight back.
And they just don't hurt like they used to.
They're too weak for me.
They don't hurt enough.
I've been thinking of bad habits I might pick up again.
Untitledcan you pinpoint when it got so complicatedUntitled by Blue-Jester
when i became everything you seem to hate
'cause it's a mystery to me how we went from something more to something less
and the fact that it kills me is something i can't and won't let myself confess
it can't be him because even he knew
i'd leave him in a heartbeat for you
was it when i was gone 'cause even then i tried
but seeing some stupid words and i as good as cried
and i don't know what caused this and i'm too scared to ask
and the time spent apart is time gone too fast
how long will this go on or will it even end
or has it already stopped with no hope to mend
and i know you see right through me, you always have i guess
but maybe you're better without me and this is for the best
i can't just say "i'm sorry" and have it all washed away
i'd just get angry back at you and all the things you say
'cause it isn't just me who is broken you see
and that thunderous crack was only part me
faults between the lines - cthe moths are dying, and shefaults between the lines - c by choirsoftheheavens
is sitting on a swing screaming silently
into the sky.
the lamp is fading, and he
is standing by the table tinkering tirelessly
with an inkless pen
and three sheets of blank paper.
she doesn't see
because she is too busy hating herself
for the creak of grease
and the corpses that litter the floor like leaves.
he can only see
because he is too free wishing for autumn to come quicker and
scrubbing the stains from echoing floorboards
and where her footsteps used to be.
it was on a rooftop in spring.
they were sitting among loose tiles holding hands.
he said, 'sometimes I think I don't exist.'
she only laughed.
it was on a porch in fall,
they were sitting on opposite ends of the swing.
she said, 'I know what you mean now.'
and he said, 'now I don't.'
they became strangers to each other.
they kissed in the locker room but it wasn't the same.
his laughter awkward and stumbling from his teeth.
she smiled so much her lips peeled. she didn't
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