Granting Forgiveness~

I sit across from the stone.
The stone that holds his name, date of birth and date of death.
I sit there so still, so quiet, I think the air has stopped breathing too.
I watch as memory after memory flashes through my mind faster than lighting.
I see him laughing. His warm brown eyes on my lashes, watching them; studying them. His content keeping me content.
Those moments were always perfect.
Always taking me by surprise.
I swear there was never a flawless moment with that boy, only the one where he held the gun thinking it was broken and shot me in the gut.
I can still feel his tears slipping down my cheeks as he cradled me in that puddle of red liquid.
His hands beating on my chest after I stopped breathing.
The thoughts shake the wood of my cascet under his knees.
He's been searching for another memory that doesn't end with me laying dead on the gore covered floor. He's been searching for forgiveness that's already been granted.
I stand over him, invisible to the living, my lips pressed to his temple, my hands on his cheeks.
I watch as the letters fade into smooth marble then begin to imprint my name, my date of birth, my date of death. 
I understand now why I saw his name at first.
I understand why when I was the one breathing, everyone and everything seemed despicable. Because the second that bullet knocked me dead, it knocked him dead too.
He can still breathe.
He can still fall in love, even though he's chosen not to. Not yet, but eventually he will. He'll find a girl, they'll get married, have children.
He can still breathe.
He can still love.
But he hasn't yet, and I despise him for not.
So I kiss him once more. I feel his skin graze against me, one last time. Just once, before I pull away and show my shadow down to where my bones and rotting flesh lay in a silk lined box with stale, wilted flower petals covering my chest.
Where my light green dress is beginning to fade of its color along with my dark brown curls.
I'm pulling away, so he can move forward.

How She Feels~

Ashamed.
That's how she feels. That's how she feels for not saying what she needs to depart from her thoughts.
A coward, a sinner, not worthy. 
That's what she sees when she looks into mirrors.
But when I look at her, when I look at her I see broken, confused, afraid.
Love, it won't fix her... completely.
Patients & strength, they're what she has. Hope, is what she needs. Understanding, it's what she longs for.

Bullet to Bone~

I don't shift as the load locks.
I don't blink as the bullet pierces my bone.
I fall to the ground with pride because that's how I told her I'd die, if I died.
That's how I wanted to be remembered, with not a pinch of fear showing on the outside, but all of me shivering on the in.

Dear Delilah~

Bliss begs to strive through the hole where you left me, had to leave me, or else where would we be?
Holding up only by strands of thread?
I grew because of you, I hope you know that.
I loved through you, although you already knew that.
But you're gone now, so I should move on.
But still I'll wait just a moment, before I let you go forever, and find someone better, but she'll never be better, no one will, ever.
I'll wait 'til I know for sure you're not going to return. Claim me as yours again.
Please come back for me. 
Because nothing is right now that you're gone.

                                                         Love the boy whose heart you still hold.                                                                                             

Grace~

She can only remember the love.
And maybe the pine needles. 
The people and the way that their eyes sparkled with secrets and how they were always swallowed in tears.
But still, grace danced through their bodies, and hope ran in their smiles.
Happiness was hers then, not so much now, now that she's gone.
But she's on her way. She will find a way back, someday.

Golden Girl~

Pale skin and green eyed. 

She'd been polished to the bone and layered with eyeliner at least a dozen times. 

She wore a lace dress with a light purple bow tied around her waist. 
Her bangs had been curled and the rest of her hair put into a bun, just like the one my sister had always worn.  

The way she was, it took my breath away. 

I was speechless, because she was gloriously golden.

Nightmares~

Coming From Dylan:
My hair is damp and my eyes are wide. My head no longer lays on its soft pillow that is now soaked in sweat, but is propped up into the cold night air of my bedroom.
The nightmares are no longer a part of me, the ones with the monsters dressed in uniforms, and who hold guns to our heads, killing all but me.
Why not me?
But still they linger through my recent memories. 
My screams have stopped and I've managed to slow my heart a bit, but I'm still shaking. 
"Dylan?" I hear Hannah's voice come through the darkness and land on my face. "Are you okay?" She asks, but I'm not okay, so I don't answer her. 
I must have been so deep in thought for a moment, because I didn't even notice her hands touching my cheeks, until now.
I think she could feel me shivering under the sheets because I can feel her hands fall from my face, to down my arms and slip between my fingers as she makes her way into the empty space behind me.
She lays her arms across mine and rests her head on my back. 
Holding me tightly with her touch, she hums to me.
When she first casts the strange, unfamiliar melodies I've never heard before into the air, I plunge my arms into my chest, afraid that the gorgeous sounds might hurt me.
But then, as they catch in my ears, I pull away my arms, because they aren't threatening, but simply grand. 
I feel foolish for a second. Because of how I'm not strong enough to be able to fall asleep alone.
Because how I need someone else's words to calm me.
But it's okay after a while, and I make a note in my head: don't be afraid to ask for help. My eyes begin to drift –as does my mind– but before I have the chance to fall back into the darkness of my own memories, I hear her.
Sweet and beautiful, "It's okay. It's okay you're home, you're safe now. You're safe with me."
And just then, I make another mental note: never let Hannah Thompson go. 

Love In a Small Town~

Say goodbye to late night fights, broken hearts, and little inside jokes.
Laying underneath dark starry skies, in your old blue pickup truck where you kissed me till the sun came up.
Say goodbye to you and I.