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Claire Keane
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@toradtobesadd

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You
I want to get high with you
Feel your hand slide in between the cracks of my fingers
I want to feel your skin on mine
Goosebumps against goosebulps
I want to hear you say my name
Slow and deep
I want to hear that laugh
Echo from your belly
Vibrating up your throat,
So adorable out past your lips.
I want the wet. Stickiness of your,
Lips,
Against mine over and over again.
I want to drink wine.
On a patio of some restaurant.
I want flushed cheeks and stuttering words
I want brunch and mimosas,
After staying up all night,
Talking.
I want you.
High.
Naked in my bed.
Drunk off if brunch mimosas and bottles of wine
Kissing me all over my naked skin,
As I am hands on chest, hip grinding, moan slipping, riding you.
I want kisses on foreheads.
I want you.
And I will always choose you over and over again.
“But I swear, you find the best things when you’re not looking for them.”
— unexpectedly found you.. // 4.5.17 (via ghlacier)
5 years
What if you never want to marry me.
Or have kids.
How come I can promise you my love until the end of the earth and all you can tell me "maybe it will happen".
What if in 5 years, you leave me. And I have to find someone else and start all over.
What if I'm not the person you thought I was.

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What ifs?
I remember your laugh.
Sunshine on cloudy days.
It was the calming of my storms.
It was the peace treaty admits a war.
A war that dug into my skin.
Made a home in my bones.
Used my heart as a pillow to lay it's head after ripping apart fragments of myself
Biting it's teeth down on every and any muscle,
And on every nerve ending,
Sending poisonous gas to my brain.
Your laughter was my bomb shelter.
It wrapped me in warm wool blankets when I couldn't breathe.
Kept me safe and warm and fed,
Completely hidden from the cruelty of the world.
The cruelty of myself.
It took every invasive threat I told myself,
And made me want to live.
And when I asked if I stayed here in this heaven with you, if you could ever love me.
And it only took the sound of your laughter.
But you see,
Every storm that ends, happens somewhere else. And everyone that looks into the sky sees the same rainbow. Feels the sun on their skin.
You told me "I don't know."
I decided I had to be my own soldier.
What ifs?
I remember your laugh.
Sunshine on cloudy days.
It was the calming of my storms.
It was the peace treaty amidst a war.
A war that dug into my skin.
Made a home in my bones.
Used my heart as a pillow to lay it's head after ripping apart fragments of myself
Biting it's teeth down on every and any muscle,
on every nerve ending.
Sending poisonous gas to my brain.
Your laughter was my bomb shelter.
It wrapped me in warm, blankets when I couldn't breathe.
Kept me safe and warm and fed,
Completely hidden from the cruelty of the world.
The cruelty of myself.
It took every invasive thought I told myself,
And turned them into thoughts of sunflowers.
And it only took the sound of your laughter.
But you see,
Every storm that ends, another one has to happen.
And when I asked if I stayed here in this heaven with you, if you could ever love me.
You told me "I don't know."
So I decided I had to be my own soldier.
We used to talk all night.
Sit up and watch TV, snuggled in your arms.
And I was going to write a poem,
But I am exhausted.
And you're still just staring at your phone.
You.
You are nicotine after I just finished my second beer.
A "I shouldn't, but hold my drink".
A bad decision that will tell great stories later.
You.
You are a "I shouldn't" but I'm more than like going to do it anyway.
You.
You are me pressing the snooze button when I should get up for class.
A pull the covers over my head and ask if its worth it at all.
You are a "do it, or you'll never do it at all."
You.
You are not quite a regret, and not quite a mistake.
You.
You are a "Something I shouldn't make a habit of".
You do not see the negativity. But I feel it in my chest. You defend yourself. Saying "I am just pointing out a fact". and though you know it hurts me. We always circle back around To me writing about you, in the dark, while you're in the other room.

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Slam poetry, David Blaine, the news, People who post 5 minute videos on the internet about a Mcdonalds employing messing up their fries. And God. All things you don't like. Because its "whiny" Because it's "not magic, it's just science" because you have "better things to do in your life" because "he hasn't proven himself to be real". I am drunk. And I am so in love with you. And I love you when you smile And the way your voice sounds. I love your puppy dog eyes. I love you. Even when you make me scared to show you my words. Even when you make me feel small. Even when you make me feel dumb. I love slam poetry. I feel it. In every inch of my bones. I have pretended to not care and waited to listen to words spew out of people who feel. I know you would just say something about how its stupid. Its easier to just remain silent. I like David Blaine. I think its interesting that he uses science in a way I've never seen it. I think its fun how he uses anatomy to show me things and teach me things I want to know. I think what he is doing IS magic. But we probably have different views on that. I like watching useless videos of people bitching because oh my goodness, I totally understand what you feel. I hate when my order is wrong too. #feelsbro And I love God. I love him even though he has hurt me. Because he loved me even when I didnt love him. I love him because I feel his love, Very much like I feel yours. I love him because every day I wake up, And I roll over and I see you sleeping, cuddled up slightly snoring and I know in the other room is your son, purple hair and all, sleeping too. And no one but God could have created a better match for me. Someone who teaches me so much about life. Someone who puts me through trials. Someone who, sometimes hurts me. Someone who, despite his beliefs, is God-like. I love you. But I do not like feeling small.
I don't say this enough
Thank you for being there, for giving me confidence to make mistakes, for holding me when I cried in the dark, for picking me back up. Thank you. For giving me the courage to breathe, in the worst moment of my life. Thank you, for all the times I cried, all the times I had lied, or taking the knife out of my hand. Thank you, For giving me patience, and understanding, For being there when I got my apartment, And when I learned that you cant win all the battles, And then helping you gain another, better, cuter one. One with your love. Oh, yeah. Thank you for that gift too. So, yeah? I'm drunk, I'm high, and I am laughing with my love and his best friend. And I am so happy. So, thank you. I don't tell you enough.
When I walk into a room where you are, I shouldn’t feel like an intruder.
I shouldn’t feel like I walked in on secrets. Like dirty words are spilling out of her mouth Her lips curling around your earlobes, Her voice so close to you it echoes into the tunnels of your mind. Each neurotransmitter sending her voice along with it, So close and so loud it could send shivers down your spine.
But yet, there she was. And nothing you can say could get the image out of my head of her in your bed.
And in a split second, the second she saw my figure approach, a second to late, she had shot up from her position and walked across the room.
The truth? I know she had you first. I know she saw your naked body, And touched your long luscious hair first. I know she has tasted the sweat on your shoulder from when she kissed it mid sex.
I know walking into that room, To her I was an intruder.
It just hurt to know you were there.
Say you meet someone. A boy. And he’s got this gorgeous head of curly hair. And sort of a Bob Dylan look. Imagine your drunk and he’s getting there. And you came with another guy but that guy is in the bathroom and you want this new guy. So you tell him he looks like Bob Dylan and that you’ve always wanted to kiss Bob Dylan. So he let you kiss him. And let you kiss him again. And he said that never really happened to him but you didn’t believe him because he is so gorgeous to look at. Imagine going home with the guy you came with and waking up hung over. Imagine remembering the guy you met. Imagine finding his number in your phone.
Imagine hanging out with him. Imagine the butterflies in your stomach. The conversations about bands and life goals. Imagine him telling you he doesn’t want a girlfriend. Imagine your heart stopping.
Imagine him crawling into your bed for months whenever he called because he was lonely. Imagine him begging for you to stay awake until he got home from the bar. Imagine you breaking yourself down every time. Imagine saying “I don’t want too” and him putting his hand down your shirt until you gave in and gave him what you wanted. Imagine him in your bed when the other guys you just so happen to be talking to is trying to text you. Imagine you always letting him in.
Imagine you meeting someone at work. He’s got long dark hair and piercing mysterious eyes. So dark you can’t see his pupils. Imagine the butterflies you felt every time you looked up at saw him. Imagine him stuttering when he talked to you. The blushing of his cheeks when you catch each others eyes. Imagine being in his bed. Heavy breathing, hands all over each other. Imagine falling in love.
And then out of nowhere, imagine the other guy texting you. Telling you he was wrong. Imagine telling him it’s to late for him to say the things you wanted to hear for so long.
And yet, imagine why it still hurts. Why you still listen to those stupid songs that make you think about him.
Imagine not wanting to leave your love. Imagine not wanting to crawl into bed with anyone else or wake up with anyone else but your love but still being hurt my someone else.
Imagine feeling like a shitty girlfriend.
Welcome. Welcome to my life.
You were so handsome and shy all at once. You smoke soft, but often. All of the girls twirled their hair and watched you from the corner of the eye. But I was the one you tried to kiss. And then we got older. And the girls started placing their hands on your arm to feel the muscles you got over summer. You let your summer orange hair grow a little longer, sweeping over your forehead. You got taller. And all of the "in-crowd" girls threw themselves at you with their short skirts and Hollister shirts. But all you wanted was the weird girl in all black. And then we got older. And and all of these girls wore push ups and tight low cut jeans. And you kept on getting taller, and more muscle and more hair. And you found your voice, loud and funny. And you would try so hard to make me laugh, And I would never let you see me smile. Though you often did. And all of these girls would throw their body at you, asking you to "take them" but you would walk over to my house in the middle of the night just to talk and fall asleep next to me. You asked me why I never let you in. And I told you you were a child and that you were dangerous. I told you "guys like you don't end up with girls like me." You told me that wasn't fair. And I never told you I loved you. And then we grew up. And now she had a ring on her finger. And she still fits into her cheer leading uniform. And she still bleaches her hair and tans her skin. And she kisses you goodbye when you go off to boot camp, or another country. And your hair is still summer orange, and I still remember the way you made me feel. The way you made me laugh. Maybe you were my first love. But guys like you don't end up with girls like me. They end up with girls like her.

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Fathers Day
Some things should only be kept as a memory. Never written down. Never told.
You never realize all the creative places you can have sex until you have a four year old in your life.