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Nicole Dawn May 2015
I saw you again today
At the store
I was expecting boredom
Just saying hi to you again,
Made it much less boring

You got an earring,
And as always,
I'm suprised by your height.
But your hair isn't purple yet,
So I guess it's alright

It was only five seconds
Not long at all
But it made my hands shake,
And I didn't stop smiling for hours

Yet soon anxiety comes to visit,
You did this wrong,
You did that wrong
For goodness's sake,
You did EVERYTHING wrong!
I know,
I know

But then you text me.
I did not text you first.
I was so happy,
But I don't know why.

In all my life,
I've never met someone like you,
Someone who makes me ignore my flaws,
Who makes me shake something awful.
Who I trust so much.

I know this isn't a poem,
But it's just a story,
I wanted to share.
Do I like him?
13blueberries May 2015
I wanted to forget
But now I can't even
Remember.
Lauren A Todd Apr 2015
"The stars live on your arm."
He traces the outline of Orion on my milky white skin. Each freckle forming a constellation. And you force my fingers into the universal sign for affection.
"I love you."
Say your fingers. Says your eyes. Says the way you can't even look at me.

I know,
You know,
This isn't the end.
13blueberries Apr 2015
I looked for you
in every person
I met.
aarti dhillon Apr 2015
To the point where it starts or is it to the point where it ends
A sinful but childish memory  that knows its way to the back terminus
The coda of a moment with the certainity of a melliflous flow
What makes it deep and so ween is the never ending uncertainity
Uncertainity , whether its to the point where it starts , where it ends or is it just simply to the....!!!
Here I am familiar
even to myself.

Certain
Confined
Inhibited

I see every
bittersweet word
surrounding
me.

Constant reminders
of what I am.

This cage
is cold to the touch.
Yet it is
so warm to me.
Nicole Gavronsky Apr 2015
I spend most of my year in self-effacement. Head down, hand up, a ghost who whispers answers to the lost. They take it; without a second thought, glance, judgement and leave the drooping girl in shades of grey to her notebook of lies. Poetry, prose, fiction, all of it is falsity straining towards enlightenment, in feeble attempts to discover itself, words stumbling into awkward rhymes hoping to somehow fall... into truth.
Then I do an about-face. Suddenly, out of nowhere, my hair falls into perfectly shaped golden locks around a painted face. A mask of melanin and mascara allow me to play a different part: one of laughter and physicality, one of reality and presence. The person I become in the summer months of heat, and sweat, and flesh believes that to be found, you must first endeavor to get beautiful, tragically lost.
Jacob Mar 2015
There's no more room to breathe,
No more stories left to be told
I've been living in the same place
For one too many years now
It's a harsh world to face,
And I'll need to figure it out
Moving farther away from my past
To bring me closer to my future
Here I have such a history to carry
I must sit and accept that the people
I love the most will leave me
To find their place in this world.

Where's mine?
K Balachandran Mar 2015
The wind, swooping down the hills,
through the deciduous forests
lustily hiss,  the beat of the drum
they both hear above that sound, puzzles,

was it her heart or his, both perhaps
they pretend not to hear
They fell in to the spell of the lake
eerily rippleless,  for the moment.
The luscious curves, of lake,still was swelling
in his brooding psyche.
He hasn't make up his mind,
though much bewitched by this witch,
yet persisting doubts ask,
take a step forward or to turn back
the cool breeze that caressed the curves
now the lake revealed, embraced her from behind,
she snuggled bit closer to him
her body twitched in a way suggesting
that she'd expect such a prank from him.

She sat as if frozen to touch in another time
it was getting late,the persistent witch
would she be smelling blood,
the hills show a dark face,
she looked up for the moon's solace.
alarmed he perked his ears,
did he hear the howl of a lone wolf?
Tuesday Pixie Mar 2015
Dear diary,
I'm forever lopsided.
It's as if one side of me has gone to market,
And the other side went all the way home
And the rest of me is all caught in the middle
Torn, divided, uncertain
And somehow this is all set to the smell of roast beaf.
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