Hopeful. Unnamed. 

Dear Us,

                         We’re not done yet.
                                     

                                        Sincerely yours,            

                                               ~Meadow 

                                                                                                                                                                                        

                                             

Erica

I am a house.

Inside a labyrinth.

Red brick walls
Cement sticks.
I know my way
I made the pattern exclusively.
Though to say; with these patterns
I saw, I seen and I’ve been present,
Sometimes to my fault of lost.
Made so thick, so crimson-
A hint of a noir soul
A hint unhinged
But, her naturally haunting beauty remains.
When the day remained to be at its will,
Filled with strength?
Her walls-
 collapsed.

Anxious

Looked in the mirror to see a reflectionThat wasn’t me, stared till eyes dried With-out a blink

No movement

Held on strong and still

Emotions overloaded

When I realized I was staring straight back at me

I said just take me, I can’t do this no more

Secrets are not meant to hide out too long

I’ve been lonely since the day I lost sight of you

While staring to long to find my face, smeared and wiped to perfection.        Visibly you’re by my side, but you’re only as heavy as a shadow,                                  That only comes out on a sunny day          But it’s dark where I am at                          And without the sun I can’t find you.

Mirror in hand, face to face.                      With a reflection I lost to reality.                   Of whom I was meant to be

White pill find me.

Right timing, wrong hour 

Questions may be asked,never lending an ear, sharing a voice.

Their notion of us has taken its place, though nothing really matters.

To say the truth.                                               as long as the winters pass                 summer’s heat,                                        spring’s blossom,                                           and fall lends autumn its leaves.

We’ll set free                                                 from everything—

even the whispers of lies and laughter between teeth and tongue.