I mourn for the souls that never got to meet you.
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I sought solace in the graves of poets and they all told me to come back to you.
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As wisterias blossom next April, the petals paint what’s next, the vines carve up my path, the seeds plant my past and I can’t help but wonder how you’re doing in Sierra Madre?
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Will the sacrifices of March blossom into the Nectar of the Gods?
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It all felt wrong at 15
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..she had a name before mom.
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And I watch how my dreams outgrew this house
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You got through it, didn’t you?
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My mother,
as rotten an painful she may be,
was once a girl like me.
A girl with,
dreams of her own,
a life of her own,
before I tore
her apart.
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…what if you did leave everything behind?”
I’m glad I didn’t.
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My soul, in its entirety is devoted to yours.
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As warm July shifts into gray August, my mind is just terribly infatuated with you. Will you fit in with your new friends? Will you shine there like you did here? Will you forget about me? Parting has never felt so real as it is now. I hope you like the people there but don’t like them too much so you don’t miss home. I love you and I hope you’re doing well.
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She would lit up souls while her’s, stayed dim.
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As July fades and August blossoms, I think of who I was before. When I was 13, August was just another month to go through. When I was 14, August was filled with half-done love stories and a lot of pain. Now that I’m 15, I wonder how August would treat me. I’ve faced enough ‘I’m going to leave around August’ already. Does the month have other things to surprise me with? Will I learn or will it pass? Probably both. I hope change and August can accommodate. It’ll definitely be hard to face both.
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There is, just so much more to live through.
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It was a Friday when you decided we’re not friends anymore. I still remember when the realization struck. I was petrified. Can we go back to ninth grade and the way it was before?
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You’re the brightest soul in this world of gloom.
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