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God, he is smiling at the waitress with big eyes as she brings him his dinner. i can see the gnarls of his hands from a dozen feet away, his chair pulled close to the wooden table. i watch him reveal his little teeth, presumably polydented dentures. he is wearing a yellow sweater, a cardigan with elbow patches.

the chair across from him is empty and in the same grain pattern as the table with his towering pile of supper. my brother asks if i know why he is alone and i tell him to keep silent. his wife died, he told me, with a smile. the old man turns his eyes to his meal and slowly begins to eat.

God, please forgive me for not sitting with him; forgive me for not telling him i am so sorry and i love him; please forgive me for not crying into his sweater or being enough

epiphany # 244: we will find this man again someday, and show him love still exists at the bottom of our hearts and a teacup.
i like my category, right or wrong.

~iLISI had this epic magic of epiphany series on tumblr, i think we're unofficially collabing?

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you could say

 they fell heart over head's for eachother.

another night under the blackened sky surrounded them
 it felt as if it was the last time and the first time all rolled into one

with bruises from bed posts and door knobs
with scratches from fingernails and lips that dragged across skin
with pulses beating rapidly and shallow breaths exhaled

the same thought ran through their heads, "what's better than love?"

the answer is always nothing

no        thing

could wake them up to the dawn of reality
darling, you are the only exception to stay in my heart.

short and aloof
for once
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your paper heart
that had the
prettiest word i've
ever heard written
on it,

fucked me over,
so bad.

so i'll fold it
bend it
give it

just so it can fly away from me.
that's all we ever lived on,
just writing everything we thought
about each other on one gigantic
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dear lord, it feels like
memories are weeds
being pulled by the
devil, ouch!
that's the sound my heart makes
when it experiences errors
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My lovers are
Lost diaries;
Cheap and nasty,
(Un)finished spent projects.

The statues
Have found their tombs,
Where no cries are heard from
Balmy florist varieties:

They simply stare
Like puzzled psychologists,
Their mouths in a silent
Conversation with the sun.

No treasure-paraphernalia,
To ogle and feel between my fingers
Like ridiculous souvenirs.

No drunken
The ground is level
The lottery ticks over
No one
for no one...for nothing...the good and bad comes to both sides.
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don't let me go
if you don't know
what to do without me;

if you can't
sleep at night
because you wonder
whose arms i'm in,
and break bones every time
they're not yours:
it means you should
hold on to me.

i know
it seems like
i might just jump
but i always come back to you.
i'm sorry that i'm so stuck.

but still,
love is when you answer my call,
to hear your voice
a thousand miles away.
i'm sorry we aren't
i'm sorry i'm
too sick
for you to
he basically said so.

i can't remember how to write.
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the rhythmic-beating-of-your-heart
resonates across the world, and you
have everybody dancing
gaga- bad romance
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the keys are trapped
inside your car,
fireworks breaking
into thousands of fairy lights
and echoes of laughter.

here we sit,
watching boys teetering on the edge
of being men turn into
human fireworks, clothing ablaze
like the stars so far from reach.

it's with the breath
of the sun on your back,
the patterns of roses on your wallpaper
opening like mouths into full blossom.
i take a hot injection of humid air,
watching the fish pass in its currents,
and release the stream back
into the ocean.

we sit with our spines on fire,
lit beneath the baked, freckled crust
of our skin.
sipping italian sodas and absorbing
as much uv radiation as possible,
we bloom into fuller people.

the nights sit cool and light
on our shoulders,
the pavement still branding
the backs of our thighs
as we sit and bare stories
that made us into the
humans we have become this final summer.

i handwrote this in the most horrific cursive you've ever seen while waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up. i would love to show someone. i want someone to buy it. i want someone to own it. but it's ugly as fuck so i don't think anyone would.
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the car slips
on the road
and we're falling
off the bridge

and i'm only
counting how many
breaths you take
before you tell me

you'll meet me in paradise.
might wrote more like this.
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you stood in the doorway, damp orange light falling across your skin, black hoodie falling from your shoulders gently, hair a mess - and you were all but perfect. you stood, leaning against the door frame a little too drunk, and smiled at me. it was that kind of smile that i knew meant more than it should have, the one i have seen too many times since - the kind of smile that meant something. i'd like to tell myself it meant the world - that when, for the first time in a year, our eyes met and you told me something that wasn't a lie - the stars had aligned or the universe corrected itself - but i know that's not true.

we kissed that night, the alley way beside your house. you ran your hand along my legs, along my ripped tights, and i could feel your heartbeat under the sleeve of the shirt i had always loved. you stared at me, face relaxed, and told me that you had wanted that for a year.
sometimes, i think i have too.

my heart didn't explode though, and my knees didn't shudder underneath me -
because it's not the same as last time, is it? i spent years convincing myself to hate you - and now you're begging me to love you. this is acceptance in love, absence of loneliness, and shudder of known imperfection down my spine. this is me more afraid than i have ever been, me doing things i have told myself i never would again, me letting you in, me enabling you to hurt me. again.
and this,
after all these months -
all the tears and the lonely nights, grief and depression, all of the horrible words and the other boys, after all of the pain and the regret and the release -
this is me, preparing for it again.

but you know what? maybe i'm okay with that. because you make me happier than anyone in the world, and the warmth of your skin against mine in the middle of the night sometimes feels like it justifies everything we've ever done.
oh deary me.
sorry for my absence recently, been very busy with school and this and that and whatever
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