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palacios
My first pair, Limited edition ‘05 altitude 13’s The black mesh upper and the green sole The stares I would get just for having them There’s a story behind every pair From 1’s to 23’s The anticipation of getting close to the release date Feeling the actual shoe on the foot for the first time The feel of the leather, the suede, The nubuck, the netting and the carbon fiber, The color way and the uniqueness Oozing from every little detail Owning a total of 20 pairs of Jordans At once feels like nothing. It becomes an addiction owning them. Taking care of them as if one little smudge Will be the end of the world. The way the laces link together with the shoes Like a spider's web The sneaker talk with another sneakerhead It flows off the tongue like sweet honey I will forever have a passion for my sneakers.
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Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 12:25 PM UTC
Ode to my sneakers
I am a candle. I stand strong and tall protected in a glass barrier. I give off a scent of respect and confidence that can attract anyone that walks past me. I will burn myself to provide light to others. I am relaxing. I provide a clear mind to those who look for comfort or soothing vibes. I am a symbol of faith in the terms of religion. I am the small fire that flickers in the dark to help you sleep at night.
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Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
Who I am
1 An aura radiates from her 2 I see red, yellow 3 Swinging her soft sepia shaded hair 4 She turns to look at me 5 Enticing ebony eyes 6 Beautiful brown, bare skin 7 A gorgeous woman 8 She smiles so slowly 9 Passionate, prosperous, perfect 10 She’s so perfect 11 The highlight on her nose 12 And cheekbones 13 They shine so bright 14 Red, like love 15 Intelligence is immune 16 To the ignorance that surrounds her 17 A woman of color 18 Never knew anything other than 19 “Sit straight, speak up, stop, 20 Shake it off” 21 Knew nothing but struggle 22 Yellow, like the sun 23 Beauty beams bright 24 Long lasting light 25 She stands strong.
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Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
POC
I move around a lot when I sleep, I move and I move in hopes that he won’t lay his hands on me again. He’s not in the same room as me, Yet I move around just to make sure. The blanket I use nightly swaddles me tightly and acts as my protector, When I was too afraid to protect myself. The dark acts as a monster that opens his soul thirsty mouth and swallows my pride, swallows my emotions and my dignity. I turn off the lights before bed and I tell myself “If you don’t provoke him, he won’t hurt you.” I tell myself that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I tell myself that there’s no reason for me to be scared. But he still shows up in my dreams, He shows up when I close my eyes, He shows up when I’m taking a shower, He shows up while I’m driving down the street, Anywhere I go, I’m afraid and I’m trapped. It took me 3 full years to even understand what happened. I feel his hands when I feel anyone’s hands on my body. It’s not easy to distinctly tell the difference between two hands, but when that was the only thing you felt all night and you couldn’t escape the harsh touch of a man you called your uncle, you know exactly what that feels like. That touch is permanently implanted in your brain, You feel it in you, you feel it scratch at your eyes That cry at night even when you don’t want to. He felt my body, but what he couldn’t feel is the power in me To fight back, the power in me to tell someone and To discuss with ease every little detail from that night, What he couldn’t feel is my confidence, My soul, my love for my body. He could touch me physically, But he could never touch the valiance in my heart.
0
Jan 18, 2018
Jan 18, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
Ode to the things he couldn't touch
I move around a lot when I sleep, I move and I move in hopes that he won’t lay his hands on me again. He’s not in the same room as me, Yet I move around just to make sure. The blanket I use nightly swaddles me tightly and acts as my protector, When I was too afraid to protect myself. The dark acts as a monster that opens his soul thirsty mouth and swallows my pride, swallows my emotions and my dignity. I turn off the lights before bed and I tell myself “If you don’t provoke him, he won’t hurt you.” I tell myself that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I tell myself that there’s no reason for me to be scared. But he still shows up in my dreams, He shows up when I close my eyes, He shows up when I’m taking a shower, He shows up while I’m driving down the street, Anywhere I go, I’m afraid and I’m trapped. It took me 3 full years to even understand what happened. I feel his hands when I feel anyone’s hands on my body. It’s not easy to distinctly tell the difference between two hands, but when that was the only thing you felt all night and you couldn’t escape the harsh touch of a man you called your uncle, you know exactly what that feels like. That touch is permanently implanted in your brain, You feel it in you, you feel it scratch at your eyes That cry at night even when you don’t want to. He felt my body, but what he couldn’t feel is the power in me To fight back, the power in me to tell someone and To discuss with ease every little detail from that night, What he couldn’t feel is my confidence, My soul, my love for my body. He could touch me physically, But he could never touch the valiance in my heart.
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