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Sav Jan 2019
I was playing at the park waiting for my spot at Violin lessons.

I was not a member of this school.

Girls in unifrom I was probably like 10 years old.

I was taking violin classes at a super fancy school.

I remember going to the playground and two girls in uniforms tried to beat me up.

I was nimble.

Another time at a public school on the time two girls tried to beat e up.

I don't know if it was because I am half black or what.

I am glad I am no longer there.
Sav Jan 2019
When I get in this mood to write, and write, and write.

Why does it never feel right.

I feel like a writer devout of a soul.

I feel like a story that's already been told.

I feel like just another lesbian who was in love with a straight girl.
Even though we fooled around and I loved her when I first met her.

Obviously, that is all the past, but why do I feel so compressed as to only write poems about her?

It's not fair but ******* it her hair.
You weren't there.

Eyes of green and visits so rare.

I know what I felt and I know what I saw.

As nervous and young she was still in awe,

She told me I was beautiful and falling in love.
For me that was a blessing from a goddess above.

Of course she left me for a white man.

Little did I know she was just an experimental
white
girl.
Sav Jan 2019
If I was stressed out before I am more so now.
The world is ending and I don't know how

to go on.

To leave behind familiar faces and places.

I am finally at peace.

Or am I.

I miss the days of not knowing. Of not growing.

I miss the days of being a complete fool in school.

Why do I feel so much dumber than then,
with way less friends.

I want to fill my brain with knowledge.
Sav Jan 2019
Itches itch and scratches scratch.

You would still relieve that urge without questioning that, right?

Well that's how I feel about my scalp.

My brain the main domaine that carries me through my days.

I don't pull my hair or wash my feet three times a day anymore.

The meds help with that.

But something I can't shake is scratching my skull.

Short fingernails because I am a lesbian.

But also has made it easier to attack my soft skin.

Blood and scabs and sore spots.

I have derma linked completely to my scalp.

Hats and beanies can only do so much.

My fingers always find a way to slip there and pick the day away.

Invisible illnesses still make you sick.
You can still fall in love with the one you didn't pick.

I am a heathen and I am an angel.

I give and I take, and I take and I breathe.

Goodnight.
Dermatillomania, coping,, hats for lie.
Sav Jan 2019
Being in love with you is like being on a see-saw.

It's not much fun to ride one unless you have someone to sit on the other side.

One is always up, and one is always down.

And that's just how it's meant to be.

You can try your hardest to be on equal levels of happiness,
knees shaking and smiles failing to either rise,
nor fall.

It's never going to be like that.

One is always up and one is always down.

Feet planted firmly in the ground.

And then for a few minutes you are soaring and
looking at your parter with
tears in your eyes.

Whether of happiness or sadness
that doesn't matter anymore.

Because regardless,
there is someone who loves you on the other side.
Matching you stride for stride.

Like swing-sets at sunset and monkey-bars.

I guess we all learned love at the playground.
Being in love is amazing, this poem was based off of a conversation I had with my fiance
Sav Jan 2019
Trinkets upon trinkets upon cups upon glasses.

When I drive by that street I always go faster.

Another in Oakville makes me feel the same way.

About how I felt on that stupid day.

Kisses in sheets and wet rainy streets. She didn't hold my hand but she did call me sweet.

She claims that she isn't a lesbian. But you know her now and I knew her then.

Back then she was timid and giving me eyes.
Making her laugh and making her smile.

She said she'd never felt this way before.
Took off her ******* right when I closed the door.

She lied down and wind down like never before.
She opened her legs and then she asked for more.

She said that she loved me but then went away.
She found a man and said "hey is that okay."

She liked me, she didn't, she loved me, she quit it, she kind of ****** me but then said "**** oh ****."

****** tease straight girl will always **** with you.

She had, soft hands, she had big talk but when it happened, she chose  to get up and walk.

***** said I seduced her ***** thought that I used her but really she loved it and kept coming back to me. Yee.

Don't know where she's at, because the ***** blocked me. But at the rate that I dream of her I know she thinks of me.

They say don't get with straight girls but what the **** ay, it was worth it to this very day.

It was worth it.
This is lowkey inspired by the beat of 7 rings. So read it like that I guess
Sav Jan 2019
I used to have writers block but I broke up with it.

Now I listen to sad music and upchuck ****.

I don't know where I am going or what I am saying.

But hello.

Beaches and windows.

I have never felt the sadness Mount Eerie has.

Aching bones and unsaid prose.

I was ***** last year.

He was a friend but in the end, he betrayed me.

I'm not nearly as broken as I could be.
true story. But It's all fine.
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