I鈥檝e only almost got my word count for yesterday ugh.
I鈥檓 at 8200 ish words, going to try to make it to 9500 and then make up the rest of it tomorrow.
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LYRICS TO A LOVE SONG
It's been so long since I last loved
That I had trouble finding words to describe the feeling
It's been so long since I thought I was in love
That I've begun to doubt if I ever really did
But it didn't take time at all to doubt what I could write
Because no matter how hard I tried to type
I couldn't write what had burned so brightly in my chest
Because if I wrote it down, I'd feel like I was ripping out the rest
Using my blood to paint because pencils were not working and paintbrushes were not working
and all I had left as a tool was my body
But it's a good body, despite all the aches and flaws
I'm going to use my body to paint a picture
And it won't be pretty
And it won't be graceful
But goddamn, it is my body
Goddamn, it is my story
So God DAMN! I'm going to tell it!
Noah Westlake; April 15, 2015
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HARBOR HEARTS
It's been two years, which seems unreal
It feels like I've been traveling, I'm miles from where I started but still have quite a ways to go
I'm lost in a wanderlust, craving an actual destination but I'm still stuck in liminal space
But wherever I am, I'm not with you
And that used to be a problem, because I couldn't forget your face
I couldn't forget your smile
Or the color of your eyes
Or the sound of your voice
But now, I just can't seem to remember no matter how hard I try.
I can imagine, and I think I'm imagining right, but I used to know with such certainty
It feels like it should feel odd, wrong, but the only thing I feel is comfort
We've both moved on.
I still love you.
I still hold you in my heart,
Harbor a little piece of you, like you probably harbor a piece of me
I still think of you and your seafoam smiles when I walk along the sandy shores
and get warm down to my core
But I'm not in love
We're not in love
I like you, but I am not in love with you any more
Noah Westlake; April 14, 2015
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PICKING BONES OR BRAINS
There's a decomposing body still attached to the bone you're trying to pick with me,
We killed it so long ago but your icy reserve has preserved it,
Did preserve it, until the anger heated everything up and the body thawed
And the love I once held for you rotted away with the flesh of the carcass
And the love I once held for you fed the hungry beast that was laying by your side
And the love I once held for you fasted you over for many a winter
And the love I once held for you is gone
We could have saved it, we could have nursed it back to health
But God! were you intent on putting it out of it's misery
Even though I pleaded,
Even though I cried,
Even though I should have given up long ago,
Like when you first started telling lies.
Oh and God was it embarrassing!
To beg and borrow love from strangers like it was food and I was starving!
I am starving for the love you never gave me!
I'm so embarrassed to act like a fool,
Because of you
So I've hidden you in my closet like I hid the body,
Way in the back where not even my friends would find you,
Because what would they say when they saw you still covered in blood?
You never cleaned up! You killed something and you never cleaned up
You only covered up, but you covered up so poorly that I can see the stains
The blood on your hands, on your chest
Like a poorly kept secret, because it is a poorly kept secret.
But you could sell water to a fish, and the people that are harboring you
Believe you when you say that it is mud, that you're just willing to get your hands dirty
But they don't know the half of just how dirty you're willing to play
And play dirty is what you did
So I got rid of you, like I did the body.
The decomposing carcass remains, but we don't have to flesh it out again.
Because I've got a bone to pick with you, and this skeleton in my closet will do just fine.
Noah Westlake; April 14, 2015.聽
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Seafoam smiles
Past the snack shack and parked cars
yards and yards of volleyball nets
I can remember where they are
The sandy shores and crashing waves
Still remind me of your smiles
How I walked along those sea foamed curves
Filming it for miles
You had never seen the ocean so I thought I鈥檇 see it to,
It鈥檚 in the past, it鈥檚 been a year
But those sandy shores and crashing waves
Still remind me of you
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BED TIME
I remember what it was like
Staying up until 5 in the morning for the first time
On purpose, anyways
It was my first adult accomplishment
Because adults stayed up as long as they want
I was a kid and I bounced back, I was energetic
I wasn't tired at all, but that was when I was young
They don't tell you that part of growing up
Is understanding that while, yes, you could
While you could stay up until you had blood shot eyes
While you could stay up until morning felt like night
And your pillow called your name
Part of growing up is knowing that
You could, but you shouldn't
Because come morning you have to be up and ready
You have interact with a world that thrives in the light
A world that calms in the night
Growing up is not having a bed time
Growing up is going to bed
BED TIME, by Noah Westlake
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I don't wait until after a storm
I rage on through it
I embrace the rain on my face
I feel power run through me
Like the wind through my hair
I am alive in a storm
In ways I am not normally
I feel in a storm more than just pain and numbness
I become the storm and for a while I feel..
I feel strong
In the after storm I wind down from the high
I smell the rain on dry Earth,
Scents of pines and evergreens
And the salt on my skin washing away
The skies are grey but I am not
I am as vibrant in my colors as I ever was
Petrichor, by Noah Westlake
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The cookie tins your your mother kept
That never hold anything but sewing pins and needles
If they hold cookies, they are much too stale to eat
A cereal box without a prize
It never said anything about a prize
But you still checked
But you still eat those cookies
When you find them
Because it's rare you do
And you still find something to like about the cereal
the little marshmallow you eat one by one
Before you eat the rest
Because in those little let downs
You have to find the victories
I found the cookie tin and for once I got some damn cookies,
I got the marshmallows and I picked them out
Somebody might yell about the missing marshmallows
Somebody else might leave the stale cookies be
But you found your little victory
You found your victory
LITTLE VICTORIES, by Noah Westlake
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Lots of kids of single mothers
Grow up without a father
It seems strange to reiterate their absence
But many do not realize that
Split does not mean alone
And together does not mean present
HOME ALONE, by Noah Westlake
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Someday in Summer
I urge you to go outside after dark
Lay in the dampening grass, the morning dew comes early
Look up into the night sky and count the stars
Like you counted baby teeth and birthdays
Go to a park and swing, to the beach and swim
Make some memories
In a week, a month, a year, a life time later
These moments are the ones that you remember and the ones you live for
Moments of silence
Moments of peace
Ageless and precious
Unspoilt and undoubtedly
Yours
BABY TEETH AND BIRTHDAYS by Noah Westlake
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I never claim to understand
Parents who say in exasperation that their kid
Can't throw a ball
Can't catch a ball
Are too lazy to come outside and play
When the parents never ask them to
When the parents never teach them to
When the kids would like to but never get the chance
Because the parents are too busy
Or
Because the parents are too tired
Or
Because the parents are just like them
Can't throw a ball
Can't catch a ball
Are too lazy to come outside and play
THREE STRIKES, YOU'RE OUT! by Noah Westlake
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They ask you how you are over dinner
Like they don't already know
They ask to rub it in, to put you in your place
You answer like you're chewing broken glass
Too stubborn to show the blood so you purse your lips
And grit your teeth, mumbling a "fine"
Just like they all expect to hear
You want to spit it all out, along with a "fuck you"
To make sure they know what they've put you through
But you grit your teeth and purse your lips
Like you're chewing broken glass
BROKEN PLATES FOR DINNER by Noah Westlake
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Like a boxer or ballerina,
I wrap myself tightly in a cloth not quite comfortable
To protect myself, to keep from snapping under the weight of my own body
To keep from protruding in far too feminine ways
To hide a body I call my own
My body, my body
It sounds so foreign to say
When I package it up and hide it away
Every Single Day
My body must adhere to impossible standards for these far too wide hips,
My broad but seemingly narrow shoulders slump forward to hide me
It's not a burden, just routine
Until the day when the veil on my cage falls swiftly, exposing the light again
I'll let the warmth of my sun fill my heart
I'll soak in the sun and expose my war wounds
But until that day, I protect myself
Hide my body until I home again
Where I shed my clothes and stand tall
My far too wide hips and broad but seemingly narrow shoulders exposed to the air within my four walls
I am not ashamed, this body is mine but it is not yet right
The juncture of my neck and my shoulders that is mine
Arms that wrap around me, yearning to wrap around someone else, to unwrap from my body
The curve from knee to calve is mine
The abysmal dip from spine to cheek
And the shallow, from cheek to thigh
Mine, mine, mine
My hips protrude but much less so than further up or just below
My stomach is canyon to my cage which rises and falls as a lay sleeping
Mine, mine, mine
But at my hips is something else, just between
An echo of who I used to be haunting me again
I drown it out, I celebrate the me that is me
The me who has taken me miles along the beach
The me who has written more words than I have spoken
The me who has lifted books, and boxes, and pets, and little kids
The me that I can celebrate with open arms and bare skin
The parts of me that I have liberated
The parts of me that I have imprisoned beneath layers of cotton tees and rolled up socks
I am not ashamed of me, but there are parts of me that are not mine
They are foreign and they keep me company
I love them anywhere else but they are too near
Suffocating me like I'm wrapping up my lungs in the cotton tees
Destroying parts of me which are not mine
I want to love them I want to celebrate them
But they are not mine
They are not me
They are someone else and that's all they will ever be
And when my bed feels empty, uncompressed and much too cold
I bury myself in pillows and pretend that they are me because they are like I should be
Soft but firm and flat where they should be
And I am someone else
Because I know who I am but my body does not
I pretend I am someone else, to make the unfamiliarity okay
I pretend I am anyone else because
At the end of the day
When I am someone else
My body is a present, just for me to unwrap
WRAPPED UP LIKE A PRESENT by Noah Westlake
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