Jul 15 Kylie
Sarah Ricard
Unlike Narcissus drowning,
As though in a puddle
Of his own courage drought,
Her time she gives away freely.
Like stopping her own gears;
Let it and all her mechanisms
Flow outward.

At night she seeks the glass.
Unspool her hair, she combs
Her musings, the yards she's given
To every inch-worth endeavor.
Generous, her heart and hope spring.
Gray, the world, and short, her time.
And she's never belonged
As truly as she does to her own head.

And in her mirror, there are colors
that dye the glass and allow
the best to shine in,
like stained windows in a church.
Under hers she prays.

Happy you may think the woman
Who sees what she likes under glass.
Would it could be preserved forever.
But who is to bring her flowers?
Who knows what kind to bring?

Which man can give the compliments
she’d most delight to receive?
What rites for each aspect of her visage?
No eyes could flatter like hers.
See in her Goddess Myth any fragility
to stand up to reflect the inner soul.

But you can’t put lungs in the looking glass,
And breathe air into those lungs.
Though she wants to pull
a gender-swapped mirror image
out into the world, her other half
is the man from Backwards Land.
It would have to be the reverse.
Else he'd expect to see his mirror image;
not to be the double of hers.
 Jul 15 Kylie
Owen Carter
Who am I but another statistic
Destined to be the next trending tag on Twitter
More martyrdom made for the minority
Hated for who I am and as they think I chose to be
Who am I but another snowflake
Bashed and beaten for my identity
Invalidated for who I know myself to be
Fearing each day that comes to pass
Who am I but a name that doesn't feel my own
Confusion rattles my brain
As I stare at the name I've known my whole life
So close to me yet so unfamiliar
Who am I but myself
As no one else chooses to see
 Jul 15 Kylie
When I’m sober I’m
so good,
so high on myself.
I talk to my friends and
I love that they love me
just the way I am.
But right now I’m drunk
and I’m falling in love
with all my exes,
all the people who are
I need validation
so I text boys who
I know will get off
on my words, on the
pictures I send them.
I have a whole list of their numbers
for nights like these.
I don’t even know
if they’d recognize me
in the morning.
I don’t even recognize myself
as I delete messages,
words, feelings.
No one will ever know
all the things I crave
if they don’t know me
 Jul 14 Kylie
A dark cloud covers the moon
like Black Sea caviar on a cracker
that soon will lie on your tongue
- a host, a silver spoon, a toast -
a litre of Stolichnaya spilled cold
onto your lap, like crying children
taken from their mothers, scared -
scarred, forgotten, but history will
remember to spit upon your name.
Angry orange hair - Too much Mussolini
 Jul 14 Kylie
the angel
 Jul 14 Kylie
his eyes are of a warm hazel brown.
sat on his chestnut curls, a bronze crown.
sun rays glimmer unto his freckled back
he laughs like a child when i blow on his neck.
but oh he's a man when he licks his lips,
when he holds my hand, then he thrusts his hips.
he took my breath away with the softest kiss
but mine was rough and raw compared to his.
he smiles like a boy when i tell him i love him,
and that i've never been this attached to anyone else but him.
when his tongue whispers back that he loves me, i break.
for i fear, he'll be gone when the morning sun wakes.
lukewarm salt water starts to drip from my eyes,
i've fallen for him, my sweet angel in disguise.
(c) ayesha. h [2018]
opps this was a longer poem than i expected. excuse me, i'm in love
 Jul 13 Kylie
My name is Erin
and i was raped
at the age of 7

it has taken me
14 years of my life
for those 13 words to escape
my hollow mouth

the only questions i come to now
is why
why lock me in that room
why take everything from me
my innocence
my purity
my childhood

in my own room
where my family trusted you
where i trusted you
the night terrors i have to this day
still haunt my mind

like a never ending
drive in movie that plays
only the moon in the night sky
isnt made to be found here
there is no light in these terrors

i cant sleep this time of year
because every time i do
its you
in that room
locking the door
shutting the windows
undressing me
yelling at me
every single night
i close my eyes

it has taken me 14 years
to accept the fact that i was taken by you
i have been numb ever since
left in the dust
rotting away at the core
thinking i was nothing
thinking i deserved nothing
because you took everything

but not anymore
i will recover from this
i am strong enough
i believe in myself
i believe in my own happiness
and i promsie
that when i have children one day
i will never ever let them rot at the core
i will find happiness
the darkness will not take over this time
 Jul 11 Kylie
Dark Matter
 Jul 11 Kylie
Semantic stars collude, collide
until the brightest constellation of words
emerges to articulate for life
what cosmology would consequently liberate:
Emancipating sentence served in the unspeakable tongue
Oxymoron’s ill delight

In the pitch-black universe of language
Oxymora hide the darkest matter.
 Jul 11 Kylie
the most frustrating thing
when it comes to a writer
is when everything
every word, every letter,
isn't enough to give justice to
the captivating picture of you
in the afternoon:

soaked in sweat,
grinning foolishly,
striking up a conversation
about coffee,
and how unhealthy it is
for me to drink
three cups straight,
to stay awake,

yet the bittersweet taste
stains my lips.

it spills down my throat,
covers my lungs,
and drowns them
with the addicting aroma
of coffee beans
and lazy dreams,
until i cannot seem
to breathe,

and the only thing
i can ever do
is to spill ink
for you.
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