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 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
5/8/2014
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
Her eyes switched from
lust to love in a matter of
seconds. I cannot describe the
things I felt in that moment
of time and I do not think
that I ever can.
hmm
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
L
Make Love
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
L
Make love* is such an odd term for ***.
Why romanticize something that's already romantic?
Beautiful in itself?
If someone asked if I was a ******, I'd say,
"No, I make love everyday."
Because I do.
Making love isn't ***.
Not to me, anyway.
Making love is defined in everyday actions.
A simple "I love you".
Or another "You are so beautiful".
Even something like "I appreciate you".
Making love is spreading love.
To some, it may sound... creepy.
To others, it may make sense.
I hope it makes sense.
off hand, nothing much.
sounds like something I'd turn into my English teacher...

sike.

**
Leigh
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
Untitled
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
I have lost my words
and my wisdom is gone
I am not a poet anymore,
am I?
I cannot write anything anymore and it's killing me.
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
Stupid if you know me,
because surely I am not dying.
It is merely an infection,
nothing more.
But, what if it spreads?
To my blood? To my heart?
And what if I am Dead?
I already am? When did it start?
I guess I feel alone.
More to myself. More depressed.
I feel as if I'm prone
to infections, aren't I blessed?
I should write about pills
and the pretty colors they wear.
I should write my secrets
for I may not have time to share.
and maybe this is a bit much,
but this story must be told.
that I am the girl who was
very much too bold.
overreacting but death is always waiting.
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
L
Explaining my life as a soldier can be summed up simply:
Covered in lice, starving for nourishment, and paralyzed by fear.
I have seen the dark side of this war from my position.
Life in the trenches...
It's a cycle.
A spell in the front line
A stint in the support lines
A period in reserve
It is a living hell.
Death is imminent --  
Death by enemy shelling.
Death by ******.
Or death by disease.
It hangs over our heads like clouds over the sun.
It is everywhere.
In the smell of rotting flesh, overflowing latrines.
The stench of humanity.
And the smell of battle
We know it's coming.
The question is...
When?
When will I feel my own blood on my hands?
When will I see the face of God?
When will I feel no pain?
Written by a friend and I for world history class.
thought I'd share.

**
Leigh
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
Morgan
She was a heap
of tangled wires
on the floor of my bedroom;
I stayed up until four
in the morning
desperately trying
to pull her apart

She was a pile of sheets
all folded over herself
at the foot of my bed;
I stayed home all day
desperately trying
to unravel her

She was her sweatshirt
dripping crimson from
the sleeves,
She was the note she left
on my dresser,
She was the pills her doctor
prescribed her,
She was drawn curtains,
She was locked doors,
She was gone before I found her,
She was her diagnosis all along,
*She was never mine
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
L
10w
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
L
10w
I can't promise you tomorrow,
but I can promise today.
Oh my love...
Stop worrying about what our future holds.
Think of now, now is where you have me.

**
Leigh
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
Untitled
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
A missing part of me
a limb so to speak
a knife in my back
with the pain but
no metal peeking out
of my shoulder blades.

A voice here and there
it speaks to me in the night
whispers "I miss you" and
"I shouldn't have gone" but
the voice hasn't gone away and
it may never leave me be.

But, the thing about voices
are that they aren't always yours
and they tend to take the form of
your friends, family, and lovers.
What were you? Were you technically
all of the above? Or were you simply
just a friend? Maybe an almost lover?
You felt like family, but the things I
wanted weren't something you'd do
with a sister or cousin...

Your voice whispers to me in the night
and I cannot let it leave.
But the less I see you
and the less I hear from you
the more your voice fades
and the more I grow in
loneliness.
something I wrote over the summer... decided to post now because I cannot keep holding on to her like I used to. she will always be loved by me, but I cannot simply feel this way anymore without wishing to **** every single person who tore us apart. hope it is okay. I will get back to posting my usual sappy love poems now. xoxo
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
My mom is sick.
as usual
But, I took a moment
to tell her hello and
get her some water.
We talked for a moment
but she stopped and saw
a trailer on the TV of two
girls kissing and put on a
look of disgust on her face.
I became silent with fear and
an overwhelming shame ran through me.

What if she knew? What if she knew that I am in love with the girl of my dreams? That I wish to hold her in my arms forever and to kiss away her pain for the rest of my life? That I have fallen for a girl whom she trusts?

I now sit in my room contemplating why God would have made me gay if my own parents would end up hating me?
not shameful for being who I am, but more filled with shame because I can never tell them how I feel unless is want to be put on the streets...
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
Polaroid
 May 2014 Krusty Aranda
R
He saw the back of
my phone case today
and he smirked widely.
The Polaroid of us sits perfectly
inside of my life proof case and
it must be important to me if
I can want to hold it everyday in
my palms...

If I cannot hold you in my hands
then I shall hold your photo instead.
Maybe then you will feel present
all through the day and night.
L<3
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