• Paige LaRue

The things we forget

I simply could not carry the guilt

Of treating a heart that way.

I would regurgitate the truth,

as if it were the alcohol sipped on earlier

in the day-

when the clock hits two

on a drunken

and saddened night.


I want to know you like red lips know wine,

bursting with flavor,

with time

we do savor.

Each parting crashing,

pining into our terrified minds.

While our stance remains bold,

the mind has a mission of its own,

That can sometimes be

infections,

contagious,

Like,

Who is this goddamn subconscious savior that I asked for?

It is only when we admit defeat and don't listen in,

that the air becomes thin

-as we retreat back into our shells.

I am calloused, hardened.

Filled with never-ending wells

that run so deep.

A mind driven by curiosity,

but to touch a million souls that we were never made to keep.

To touch my own soul;

burnt fingertips that sting of scriptures,

Always there but never acknowledged.


and to love,

a thousand things a minute.

Some give it back effortlessly,

without a thing to say.

Yet that is not where stability comes into play,

or where it roots itself into the garden of my mind.

This love pours out of me,

to walk on warmth and never be disappointed

For this love carries me, always,

I find myself fine.


Twisted thoughts give the heart and soul

a predetermined dark plot,

I'll pick up my mind,

clean every spot.

My own dirty mirror,

My own world becoming clearer with each swipe of the hand.

To reveal a girl not whom carries guilt,

Only walls built

To keep the calm water pure,

Oh,

what the mind will do for the heart to endure.


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