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Chalsey Wilder Nov 2016
Your insecure *** thinks I want your wo/man?
Oh oh oh oh
You ain't gotta worry
You can keep em
Wrap em in a box
Put em on your doorstep
And they'll go show up on somebody else's doorstep
Saying, "Hey how ya doing?"
And they'll be back by the time your alarm clock goes off
Like they never left
And I don't want any part of it
You can keep em
You can stay
You ain't gotta worry about me any day
"He ain't got no loyalty
He ain't got no respect
All he got is money and a ****
You can keep him
He ain't ****"
"She ain't really nurturing
She ain't really fit
She wants to control everything
It's out of my limits"
  Nov 2016 Chalsey Wilder
Ramin Ara
your purity gives
The sky fine lustre
And your rays
Make the earth glorious
  Nov 2016 Chalsey Wilder
Bianca Reyes
I am the queen of what ifs
Sitting on a throne of could've beens

My fears are my loyal subjects
Escorting my dreams to the gallows

My ambitions are now prisoners
To my court of procrastination

I, the queen
Reign over all of this regret
May we never forget

I, The Queen ©


I GOT DAILY POEM!!! Wow, thank you to everyone who read, commented, shared and liked this and thanks to anyone who reads this and does the same. Yay :)






Written and shared on Hello Poetry on January 11, 2016. Copywrite and all rights reserved under Bianca Reyes
Chalsey Wilder Nov 2016
This **** is gonna blow up the fan
  Oct 2016 Chalsey Wilder
Andrei Marin
Listen to the voices of present, past;
look to the future:
nothing will last.

Except for God's grace, eternally true,
take it now: it's meant for you.
A short poem about God's grace.
  Oct 2016 Chalsey Wilder
Cali
Organic electronic sounds
reverberate throughout
this closed up room,
and I am swathed
in crisp white sheets
and indigo delirium.

The sun slips in and out
between the leaves
holding their breath
outside my window,
and I inhale
air that is heavy
with lost words
and melancholia.

The walls are grey here
and they call for sleep
and great cerulean silences,
things that might heal.
But old lovers keep on
sending messages
like Morse code
and new lovers
cut their teeth on
my collarbones,
smiling at the novelty
of a pretty face and
a sick mind.
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