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kelsey-nicole
kelsey-nicole
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering...these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love...these are what we stay alive for."
To love a man that gives you the moon and all of the constellations,                       this gift, I did not receive. Instead, I loved a man who could create skies of jade and violet among any area of his choosing with his own bare hands. To love a man that gives you a bouquet of twelve burgundy roses,                      this gift, I did not receive. Instead, I loved a man who could produce a field of golden pansies atop my right cheek with his own fingertips. To love a man that gives you a kiss beneath a lantern string of lights,                      this gift, I did not receive. Instead, I loved a man who could shoot the most colorful of fireworks and streamers from the booming sound of his own voice. To love a man that gives you a floral path from the door to a candle-lit room,             this gift, I did not receive. Instead, I loved a man who could toss a book through the air and before it struck my skin, it would burst into pink rose petals with a clap from the same bare hands that painted me jade and violet skies.
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
Romanticization of an Abusive Relationship
Your serpentine grin is home to beacons of light that freely cascade beyond the skies of my iris. Blinded, I am- Harboring above the sedative call of my name awaits the serene sting of your lips. Lingering, for mine- Your body desinigrates into the sands of time and I become the warmth of black silk sheets and the brisk breeze of a winter night. Infatuated, we are-
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Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
present tense
I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't- I can't think straight and you're talking a mile a minute, All I can focus on is the untouched books hanging on your wall. I can't handle this, I can't handle this, I can't- You got closer and I was still shaking, my body silently screaming to feel your skin graze against mine. What am I doing, What am I doing, What- Your pupils dilated and your hands became unsteady as they studied the softness of my lips to the warmth in between my thighs. Oh god Oh god Oh- After all was said and done, you told me it was getting late. Oh, how I must of forgot that this was all for fun. It didn't matter to you, It didn't matter to you, It didn't-
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
lust
Spit your poison into my open ear, let it leak through my veins and secrete from my pores, let it drip upon my mouth and slither on top of my tongue, you know I love the taste.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
cravings
It unhinged itself from the unfinished, half-painted walls in my tiny room and crawled into my mind to find a pool of happy thoughts and drink them dry.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
void
Like rippling water distorts a reflection, the mirror reshapes my stomach, thighs, arms. Buttons unlatch from their holsters, The zipper loosens its grip, Exposed are the  things I despise. Pinching, pulling, pushing. Nothing changes, all still there. Not so much a distorted body, More so a distorted mind.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
waves