Lynn
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Written by Lynn

I no longer want to be alone

I have found myself walking away from so much this year. I have left behind hands that held mine a little too tightly. I’ve cried over the body of someone I never got to know. My father's lungs have been deteriorating for almost a year now and the possibility of losing him is still one I refuse to face. I openly turned away from the eyes of people who cared because I couldn’t be bothered to ease the helplessness they felt towards a mass crushing my father’s heart. I haven’t hugged my mother since my father’s diagnoses. I can’t bare the thought of collapsing into her arms and admitting I’m not strong enough. In that scenario the greatest weakness I could have ever imagined was needing someone. I wanted to be better. Stronger. Is it fucked up to believe isolation is some kind of ultimate strength? I craved the touch of someone whose eyes used to hurt for me whenever we were in the same room. We said all the right things at all the wrong times. I gave him the space I thought he needed while I was left wanting something he couldn’t give. He’d pull me back when it was convenient, and I didn't mind. He made me believe there might be something worth holding on to. He told me- well, I guess it doesn’t matter what he said. I could say any number of things; that doesn’t make them true. He’s the one person I hadn’t tried to push away, but he was already gone. I remember the start of this year. I was optimistic. Hopeful. Excited even. I hadn’t known what I was wishing for; but I was wishing wholeheartedly and unregrettably. I wouldn’t say that it got me anywhere. Well, it got me crying uncontrollably on a yellowed linoleum floor, wishing again. Just this time a little more aggressively. I isolated myself. I gave myself distractions and excuses to ignore my pain and the pain I saw in the eyes of others. I was selfish. I knew it, too. I could feel the distance growing between myself and from my surroundings. I made a choice to limit the amount of hurt I experienced and, in those months, it felt so good to feel nothing.

It felt so right to be alone.  

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Written by Lynn
I no longer want to be alone
I have found myself walking away from so much this year. I have left behind hands that held mine a little too tightly. I’ve cried over the body of someone I never got to know. My father's lungs have been deteriorating for almost a year now and the possibility of losing him is still one I refuse to face. I openly turned away from the eyes of people who cared because I couldn’t be bothered to ease the helplessness they felt towards a mass crushing my father’s heart. I haven’t hugged my mother since my father’s diagnoses. I can’t bare the thought of collapsing into her arms and admitting I’m not strong enough. In that scenario the greatest weakness I could have ever imagined was needing someone. I wanted to be better. Stronger. Is it fucked up to believe isolation is some kind of ultimate strength? I craved the touch of someone whose eyes used to hurt for me whenever we were in the same room. We said all the right things at all the wrong times. I gave him the space I thought he needed while I was left wanting something he couldn’t give. He’d pull me back when it was convenient, and I didn't mind. He made me believe there might be something worth holding on to. He told me- well, I guess it doesn’t matter what he said. I could say any number of things; that doesn’t make them true. He’s the one person I hadn’t tried to push away, but he was already gone. I remember the start of this year. I was optimistic. Hopeful. Excited even. I hadn’t known what I was wishing for; but I was wishing wholeheartedly and unregrettably. I wouldn’t say that it got me anywhere. Well, it got me crying uncontrollably on a yellowed linoleum floor, wishing again. Just this time a little more aggressively. I isolated myself. I gave myself distractions and excuses to ignore my pain and the pain I saw in the eyes of others. I was selfish. I knew it, too. I could feel the distance growing between myself and from my surroundings. I made a choice to limit the amount of hurt I experienced and, in those months, it felt so good to feel nothing.

It felt so right to be alone.  
#nonfiction  #imsorryivebeengone 
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Prose Challenge of the Week #21 in partnership with The Micropoetry Society. Use the following word to create a piece of micropoetry: “Lines.” The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100, the runner-up will receive $25. When sharing to Twitter, please use the hashtag #poetheme and #micropoetry.
Written by Lynn

but baby, we're just lines and fragments hoping to connect; parallel lines that people forget. 


one life leads to the next. 

we don't live; just die. this is death. 

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Prose Challenge of the Week #21 in partnership with The Micropoetry Society. Use the following word to create a piece of micropoetry: “Lines.” The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100, the runner-up will receive $25. When sharing to Twitter, please use the hashtag #poetheme and #micropoetry.
Written by Lynn
but baby, we're just lines and fragments hoping to connect; parallel lines that people forget. 

one life leads to the next. 

we don't live; just die. this is death. 
#micropoetry 
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Prose Challenge of the Week #9: Write a 20 word story about heartbreak. The winner will be chosen by Prose based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. Winner will receive $100.
Written by Lynn

||beautifully||

It's not that you're not beautiful; it's just you're not beautiful to me, but I will always love you, beautifully.

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Prose Challenge of the Week #9: Write a 20 word story about heartbreak. The winner will be chosen by Prose based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. Winner will receive $100.
Written by Lynn
||beautifully||
It's not that you're not beautiful; it's just you're not beautiful to me, but I will always love you, beautifully.
#micropoetry 
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Prose Challenge of the week #4 Write a piece of poetry or prose continuing this sentence: “He watched her in her deepest sleep…” The winner will be determined by the most bookmarks and shares once the results have been reviewed and verified. Winner receives $100.
Written by Lynn

vi.

hewatched her in her deepest sleep;

for a moment he could swear he almost saw her breathe.

i. Before

1993: sitting at his step mother's house where she kissed him on the mouth and he almost touched her blouse.

ii.

1996: he kissed her neck and she cradled his head as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he laid her on her bed.

iii.

20 weeks: the house slept as her cancer repulsed and they sat together as her shoulders convulsed.

iv.

16 weeks: he remembered the dress she wore when her hair fell out in fistfuls to the floor and her mom said she was adorning; she burned that dress the next morning.

v.

8 weeks early: he clutched her hand and held her too close and she slipped away as her bones turned to shadows.

vi.

for a moment he could swear he almost saw her breathe.

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Prose Challenge of the week #4 Write a piece of poetry or prose continuing this sentence: “He watched her in her deepest sleep…” The winner will be determined by the most bookmarks and shares once the results have been reviewed and verified. Winner receives $100.
Written by Lynn
vi.
hewatched her in her deepest sleep;
for a moment he could swear he almost saw her breathe.

i. Before
1993: sitting at his step mother's house where she kissed him on the mouth and he almost touched her blouse.

ii.
1996: he kissed her neck and she cradled his head as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he laid her on her bed.

iii.
20 weeks: the house slept as her cancer repulsed and they sat together as her shoulders convulsed.

iv.
16 weeks: he remembered the dress she wore when her hair fell out in fistfuls to the floor and her mom said she was adorning; she burned that dress the next morning.

v.
8 weeks early: he clutched her hand and held her too close and she slipped away as her bones turned to shadows.

vi.
for a moment he could swear he almost saw her breathe.
#poetry 
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Written by Lynn

jade and ice laced eyes;

you look better in black than

you ever did white.

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Written by Lynn
jade and ice laced eyes;
you look better in black than
you ever did white.
#haiku 
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Written by Lynn in portal Philosophy

Euthanasia

You named

the crystals

beneath

my skin

and I

the freckles

on your knees;

I kissed the

crease of

your chin

and

the amethysts

beneath

your cheeks.

You said,

the heterochromia

in your iris

is god's way

of trying

to make

you see

and

our bodies

were meant

for art

and a heart

lain across

our sleeves.

I wonder

if you see

phosphene

or if your lungs

are strong enough

to breathe.

I wonder

if you can

hear my prayers

or if you're

able to miss me.

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Written by Lynn in portal Philosophy
Euthanasia
You named
the crystals
beneath
my skin
and I
the freckles
on your knees;
I kissed the
crease of
your chin
and
the amethysts
beneath
your cheeks.

You said,
the heterochromia
in your iris
is god's way
of trying
to make
you see

and

our bodies
were meant
for art
and a heart
lain across
our sleeves.

I wonder
if you see
phosphene
or if your lungs
are strong enough
to breathe.

I wonder
if you can
hear my prayers
or if you're
able to miss me.
#poetry  #death 
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Written by Lynn

Pale pink sadness

The smell of pennies filled the tiled floors and fluorescent lights with a thick, wet urgency that seeped from the cracks in the pale pink walls and weighed heavily on her broken wings. Blind heat shone through her fractured ribs and quarts of quarters billowed out between her lips. With her hands slick with metal and eyes tired with lead she began to slip; falling into comforting cool darkness that reminded her of the feeling of your temple pressed to a glass on the road to nowhere on a subway train or a car filled with people you've known all your life but have never really known. Her heart flew out of chest and reached up her throat. She could almost make out her own voice catching on the air as she gasped for redemption.

Crescendo Crescendo Crescendo.

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Written by Lynn
Pale pink sadness
The smell of pennies filled the tiled floors and fluorescent lights with a thick, wet urgency that seeped from the cracks in the pale pink walls and weighed heavily on her broken wings. Blind heat shone through her fractured ribs and quarts of quarters billowed out between her lips. With her hands slick with metal and eyes tired with lead she began to slip; falling into comforting cool darkness that reminded her of the feeling of your temple pressed to a glass on the road to nowhere on a subway train or a car filled with people you've known all your life but have never really known. Her heart flew out of chest and reached up her throat. She could almost make out her own voice catching on the air as she gasped for redemption.

Crescendo Crescendo Crescendo.
#lyrical  #metaphorical 
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Written by Lynn

lavender hazes and murky skies

i left you out in the pouring rain and let the cold sink into your bones: i let her hold your hands and kiss your lips and watched as your cries turned to moans. and that hurt. more than i’ve ever known. but i knew i had to. you were all i’d ever known but i had to let you go because distant memories always seemed better in your darkest places. i can’t handle all these ghosts in lavender hazes. i remember you used to sing to me. lyrics never meant so much and i’d never heard singer-songwriters filled with that much love. that much angst and regret. they never sang the blues quite like you. you were a romantic and i was quite the hopeless case: you had eyes only a writer could describe and i was hopelessly lost in space. i have a lump in my throat from holding back sobs but i know it’s all for good. i know she’ll love you more than i could.

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Written by Lynn
lavender hazes and murky skies
i left you out in the pouring rain and let the cold sink into your bones: i let her hold your hands and kiss your lips and watched as your cries turned to moans. and that hurt. more than i’ve ever known. but i knew i had to. you were all i’d ever known but i had to let you go because distant memories always seemed better in your darkest places. i can’t handle all these ghosts in lavender hazes. i remember you used to sing to me. lyrics never meant so much and i’d never heard singer-songwriters filled with that much love. that much angst and regret. they never sang the blues quite like you. you were a romantic and i was quite the hopeless case: you had eyes only a writer could describe and i was hopelessly lost in space. i have a lump in my throat from holding back sobs but i know it’s all for good. i know she’ll love you more than i could.
#romance  #poetry  #indie 
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Written by Lynn

i tried to be your heroine, but now you're just my heroin

i'm hooked on your wide eyes and you get hooked on your highs

shades of brown and gold light your dimming smile while hues of grey and blue ignite your eyes

i hate the drugs you smoke and the thought of the women that you see because one's been killing you and the other will kill me

i cannot stand the thought of your feet tempting that ledge

your cigarettes freestanding on the edge and a bottle in your hand

i know i can't save you from the drugs you've come to love but i wish i didn't tease that line with the taste of your lips still on my tongue

i can't fight the sleepless nights

you've been gone for a few weeks

there's puffy clouds beneath my

eyes as your puffs caress your cheeks

i've been shaking all evening with your name grating against my teeth but i'm afraid i'm confusing my need for love and your love for the need

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Written by Lynn
i tried to be your heroine, but now you're just my heroin
i'm hooked on your wide eyes and you get hooked on your highs
shades of brown and gold light your dimming smile while hues of grey and blue ignite your eyes

i hate the drugs you smoke and the thought of the women that you see because one's been killing you and the other will kill me

i cannot stand the thought of your feet tempting that ledge
your cigarettes freestanding on the edge and a bottle in your hand

i know i can't save you from the drugs you've come to love but i wish i didn't tease that line with the taste of your lips still on my tongue

i can't fight the sleepless nights

you've been gone for a few weeks

there's puffy clouds beneath my
eyes as your puffs caress your cheeks

i've been shaking all evening with your name grating against my teeth but i'm afraid i'm confusing my need for love and your love for the need
#poetry  #addiction 
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The ultimate demise.
Written by Lynn

falling

there are cracks

in the foundation

where she stands.

crumbling and

consuming her

problems as she

she stares out

at the fading sunset

and imagines her life

is the same way:

it's changing and beautiful

but disappearing

all to soon. she can't

decide if the sun is

willing to disappear

or if it's forced to.

if the sun pleads and

implores to stay

but the moon

casts it away,

or if the sun is tired of

being the light

in our world

and wishes we'd

leave it alone

to burn out.

she's come to find

people are committing suicide

either when everything's dark

or when a new day

is on the rise.

she would rather

have one last taste

of the sun's rays

caressing her face

before she decided

to completely

fade away.

she didn't want to leave

while surrounded by

darkness; her life's

like that as it is.

now some say it's a

fitting time to die

when the sun is

returning. a sign of

a new beginning

and of new life,

but she couldn't say

there would be a life

to start after this one.

her life doesn't

give her much hope

for another one anyway.

she just wants peace.

she wants full breaths

that don't feel like

violent threats

and suppressed memories.

she inhales the

city air: it's still warm

from the sun's charity,

and she embraces

this newly found

warmth.

she knows it's now or never.

she wants the sun and her

to fall together. she wants

to hold the sun's hands

as she falls into

what could be.

the closest thing

to love and intimacy

she's ever been,

or ever will be.

maybe the sun will

pick up her spirit

and cradle it

until they burn out

and consume our neighboring

planets in a wisp

of white,

blinding heat.

maybe everyone else

is wrong: what about any of this

is defeat?

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The ultimate demise.
Written by Lynn
falling
there are cracks
in the foundation
where she stands.
crumbling and
consuming her
problems as she
she stares out
at the fading sunset
and imagines her life
is the same way:
it's changing and beautiful
but disappearing
all to soon. she can't
decide if the sun is
willing to disappear
or if it's forced to.
if the sun pleads and
implores to stay
but the moon
casts it away,
or if the sun is tired of
being the light
in our world
and wishes we'd
leave it alone
to burn out.

she's come to find
people are committing suicide
either when everything's dark
or when a new day
is on the rise.
she would rather
have one last taste
of the sun's rays
caressing her face
before she decided
to completely
fade away.
she didn't want to leave
while surrounded by
darkness; her life's
like that as it is.
now some say it's a
fitting time to die
when the sun is
returning. a sign of
a new beginning
and of new life,
but she couldn't say
there would be a life
to start after this one.
her life doesn't
give her much hope
for another one anyway.
she just wants peace.
she wants full breaths
that don't feel like
violent threats
and suppressed memories.

she inhales the
city air: it's still warm
from the sun's charity,
and she embraces
this newly found
warmth.

she knows it's now or never.
she wants the sun and her
to fall together. she wants
to hold the sun's hands
as she falls into
what could be.
the closest thing
to love and intimacy
she's ever been,
or ever will be.
maybe the sun will
pick up her spirit
and cradle it
until they burn out
and consume our neighboring
planets in a wisp
of white,
blinding heat.
maybe everyone else
is wrong: what about any of this
is defeat?
#fantasy  #fiction  #romance  #poetry  #spirituality  #SheWasTheKindOfPersonYoudNameAGalaxyAfter  #EditedRepost 
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