Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Feb 2015 Mirlotta
kaye
God must've painted the sunset in your eyelids
and the stars in your eyes
he must've made a jungle out of your heart
that everyone keeps getting lost in,
drowned by a forest of wildfires.
he must've tucked sunshine in the corners of your smiles.
he must've patterned the oceans and seas with your words --
i keep drowning in them.
he must've tried to recreate the softness of heaven in your lips.
blackholes may have been named after your eyes --
they keep ******* me in and I can't help but see the birth of stars in their edges.

you are a whole universe of your own,
and I like exploring the corners of it alone.
 Feb 2015 Mirlotta
Em or Finn
Five:
Kindergarten
A time we are asked to draw our future lives
Our future families
But while kids are drawing houses with their future spouses
I draw myself alone in a house
All Alone
And I didn’t know why


Six:
My teacher tells the class to describe their future families
To describe the children, spouse, and/or pets we want to have
But I say I don’t want a husband or children of my own
I just want a pet that understands me
I get stares
But I don’t think I’m different
This is when the bullying got worse
When the mold of my face was plastered into the playground mulch
When I grew distant from others.


Seven:
Second Grade
A time where the wedding bells are ringing
Where kids are getting “married” left and right
But when a boys asks me to marry him
I say no
It’s not that I didn’t like him
I just didn’t know why


Eight:
Third Grade
A time where we make friends
A time to explore who we are
Kids were “asking each other out” and holding hands at recess
But I didn’t want that
When a boy came up to me and tried holding my hand
I let it go
Becoming increasingly uncomfortable
And I just didn’t know why


Nine:
Fourth Grade
One of my worst times
Getting bullied so much that the dial couldn’t be turned up any higher
The frequency already alarmingly loud to me
Yet no one did anything
I stood alone
But I was comfortable and I didn’t know why


Ten:
Fifth Grade
The bullying continued
Small rumors got around that I liked girls
They didn’t go very far
Seeing that I pushed away everyone that ever tried to approach me
I wasn’t lonely
I was content no one wanted to hold my hand
Or ask me out
And I didn’t know why


Eleven:
Sixth Grade
We are given “The Talk” this year
We must watch the movie without laughing or fidgeting
Or we have to watch it again
I watch the movie and become increasingly uncomfortable
Feeling the ***** rise
I no longer feel okay
And I wonder
This is what people do
So why don’t I want to


Twelve:
Seventh Grade
I’m starting to understand
Believe in myself
That I’m different
I realize now that I don’t really like boys
Maybe I’m lesbian?
Does it matter?
Whatever it is,
I keep my mouth shut
Afraid of any torture that may follow
Maybe the rumors in fifth grade were true


Thirteen:
Eighth Grade
Relationships rise in intensity
Boys and girls kissing
I still believe I like girls
But not normally?
I seem to have closer bonds with them
But ****** ideas and thoughts never enter my mind
This broken down *****
Questioning its every move


Fourteen:
Ninth Grade
Freshman Year
Where Hell begins
Where I am finally understanding myself, my preferences
Digging deeper into my heart
Clinging to this broken up, already defeated *****
That just beats in my empty chest to make me go through more pain
I do my research.
Lesbian?
No, I don’t like ****** actions that much
Asexual?
The description seems to fit me well
Finally being the mold I needed
The mold to help put my pieces back together.
But who can I tell?
No one
Because no one will understand.


Fifteen:
Tenth Grade
Sophmore year where bullying is an everyday struggle
I do more research
Demiromanticism calls my name
Where I feel romantic feelings for someone I grow close bonds to
And if I only grow bonds with girls
Then…
How will my parents understand?
My friends?
The beings that I cling onto everyday just to keep breathing.
They’ll never understand what kind of a freak I am


Sixteen:
Eleventh Grade
Junior year
I come out to Callan, one of my best friends
And things didn’t go as expected
They accepted me
With open arms that I thought for sure would be closed
It was the first time I felt free
I came out to more of my friends
And then came my family
I expected them to not understand
But they were willing to listen
Enough to accept me
Well I mean … “accept” me
I could tell they didn’t fully believe me
Both plaguing me as a lesbian.
Someone I’m not
But I dropped it
And let them have their vision of me
This personality whom I’m not and never was.
I now fully understand who I am, but they
They seem to think they know me better than I do
Poem inspired by Patrick Roche’s “21” poem. Basically my story of dealing with my sexuality, but in poem form so yeah! =^_^=
 Feb 2015 Mirlotta
Adia Heart
Love, I've fallen in
The idea, the thought of it.
Nothing more than that.
 Feb 2015 Mirlotta
Timothy Brown
Yes, you're beautiful. No, I don't want a ****** relationship.
© January 17th, 2014 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved.
 Feb 2015 Mirlotta
Curing
Disarray
 Feb 2015 Mirlotta
Curing
Sometimes we forget who we are momentarily
Sometimes we forget for a lifetime
Sometimes we close our eyes at night and hope that it's the last time

Chances are the Sun will rise
Sparkling like a white wine
Somewhere in the dark of night, you're lonley fingers found mine

Sometimes we break each others hearts
Sometimes we are the lifeline
Sometimes I think we built our love right above the fault line

Sometimes one of us will slip
Eventually we'll realign
Impossible to pull away, break apart, unentwine

Sometimes we really aren't okay
Even though we say we're fine
Sometimes the pain behind the smile, is the only warning sign

Sometimes we wish for yesterday
But to the present we're confined
Slipping into disarray, watching as we're left behind
 Feb 2015 Mirlotta
Stoney
Trapped
 Feb 2015 Mirlotta
Stoney
I'm locked in.
I'm scratching to get out,
No one can hear me.
No one can hear me shout.

I'm locked in,
In a three dimensional cell,
Where no one comes to visit.
No one comes to help.

I'm locked in
and only I can set me free,
You've got the invisible lock,
I've got the invisible key,

Im locked in
and only I can see,
If I want to get out,
I just have to be me.
 Feb 2015 Mirlotta
Frecky Rosa
My dreams are so half-baked,
Somebody put a timer on them
And serve them hot to me.
Next page