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My Sister, My Friend
The years have passed with emptiness in heart.
Many times I tried but stopped before start.
Messages sent and read with no answer.
The dance of repair has lost its dancer.
Best friend and sister, she was to me.
Still held in my heart as such, wish she would see.
I would not continue to try if not thought.
I care not about the fights that were fought.
I still have old memories sitting before me
Still time in which I wish we could laugh and be
Role plays, and dream wishing, and so much to feel
I long for a moment in which we can heal.
So much between us that needs to be said.
Too many conversations had in my head.
The bracelet remains in my jewelry box
Tears well in eyes still before lid shuts and locks.
So much silence when words need to be told.
Just wish I could reach her, reach out and hold.
We both made mistakes and messed up bad.
I just really miss what we had.
Even though I know it may never be the same
I just wish this past could be overcame.
I do wish we could talk, forgive, and
Such shadows seem to filter in the light.
Masking all that is known.
Ignorance gave way to bliss.
Is that not the way to go?
The Light gazes off into the distance.
A wolf's howl is heard
But no comfort is found any longer.
The guardian no longer passes by.
No longer exists.
Betrayal fills the Light,
Though she cannot truly be angry.
Light knows the fault is hers.
So Light watches as Darkness fades
Fading away from her reach,
Light's head bows and she dares not call.
The wall's in place and she cannot break it.
A new charge is claimed.
She is forgotten.
The mask is worn now.
Pain fills the Light,
And rain forever falls.
"You're safe now,
I am here...."
His words forever echo in my mind.
A gentle soul.
My best friend.
Swore he would always be there.
Then one day...
A stranger took his place.
A distant chasm has grown.
The body the same.
But past completely denied.
He clams to care.
Claims to make sure I am alright.
But he has brought damage to me,
He cannot repair.
He may hold the memories of the one I lost.
But he is not my friend.
Merely a shell who can play pretend...
Tears will not dry as I turn away.
I walk down my path
And mourn my friend...
HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More