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Shauna Mar 2015
leather and lace
look at her beautiful face
she wants to be a witch
she wants to be forgotten

her makeup gradually
becomes more and more post-mortem
as the days keep on piling up
and
she knows she's doing something right
when she gets the strange looks
from the passerby

she carries her guitar
like a mother carries her newborn baby
and strums the strings
just like her lover makes her feel
after a long day

and one day
that lover rips her heart out and splits it in two
resulting in her happiness dying
and now she's forgotten
and he refers to her as "that witch *****"
and now she doesn't play guitar like she used to
because her motivation is gone
and not only is her makeup post-mortem
but that leather and lace girl
with the beautiful face
is now six feet under
the ground
based on a movie I watched recently
Shauna Feb 2015
Red lips, blank stare
Almost as if she came from nowhere
He mastered the art of longing for her
Despite her coming and going like a blur
And here she was, promising not to leave like everyone before
Because she wanted to be his cure
But at some point
She clutched a joint
And with a roar, threw a flower
Which his name was carved into, onto the floor
And stomped on it, crushing each and every petal
Where it lay still and settled
Forever
And
Ever
Shauna Nov 2014
That moment when
"I love you"
Becomes synonymous
With a slam of the door

That moment when
Water pours out of your doe-like eyes
And takes the shape
Of your absent father

That moment when
You witness a stranger's father
Pushing away a girl resembling a porcelain doll's hand
And whispering,
"It hurts me more than it will ever hurt you."

That moment when
You realize
You have a hickey
Except
It's on your heart

That moment when
What used to upset you
Now amuses you greatly
Because,
You killed every inch of feeling
And replaced it
With jokes
Until
One day
You realized
You also killed yourself
In the process
Hot mess 101
Shauna Nov 2014
I don't care
Who you are
But
I just thought
You ought to know
That you are beautiful
And wanted in this world
And you mean a lot
To many people
So please,
Just remember
That I love you
So go **love yourself
  Nov 2014 Shauna
curlygirl
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
Shauna Nov 2014
Let's take a trip down memory lane,*
Where the people were everything but sane
I open the unmarked cardboard box
Full of torn photographs
Torn, because my mother
Refused to remember
The memories
Of my "father"
Who, full of rage
Broke out of his cage
And rampaged around
The quaint house
Of my past
Until one day
He disappeared
For good

Another photograph
Was left untouched
And full of dust
And underneath that thick layer
Mom and Dad were smiling
And then I thought
What happened?

But then
I thought
What if they weren't really happy? What if it were all one big lie?*
And that's when I knew
That I never
Ever
Wanted to take a trip down memory lane
Again
Because
It was too painful
To contemplate
And analyze
Why
And
How
Things turned out
The way they did
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