Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Yes, I am no poet
In fact, my 'pieces' are pretentious
but this is my dear diary
where i relieve my fright tonight
of the lonely awakening of tomorrow morning.

So I choose to live in the shadows of the quiet night
and dream sweet dreams in the busy daylight
where nobody is my judge
where nobody is my lord
where nobody is my god.
insomnia
 Oct 2018 Cleo
Alana Jones
Alone
 Oct 2018 Cleo
Alana Jones
Have you ever felt alone?
Have you ever felt disconnected with humanity?
I feel this way all the time.
I am an outcast, and I am alone.
Why do I feel so out of touch?
Socializing is a must, but I’m so out of touch.
I’m not a fan of the pop **** crust.
That was just for fun, but I’m so out of touch.
The moral of the story is, I always feel alone.
I feel disconnected with humanity.
I feel this way all the time.
I am an outcast, and I am alone.
 Sep 2018 Cleo
Tina Marie
Holding hands with you
Thoughts rushing, then slow and the
Moonlight becomes you
 Feb 2018 Cleo
Evelyn Genao
You thought I loved you when I just wanted a good ****.
He never wanted her and he never will, she knows that now. She knew that every time he went out and didn't come back for days, weeks, or even months. She knew what he was up to. The lipstick and perfume on him clearly pointed that out.
"Lucy, this is Sarah. Sarah, this is my cousin." Drew gave Lucy the look as if saying 'you say anything, I'll hurt you'.
"Hi, Lucy." Sarah smiled.
"Hello." Lucy gave a fake smile. Lucy didn't smile a real smile around him. She barely smiled at all.
"Sarah and I will be upstairs. DON'T disturb us. If you know what I mean." Drew pulled Sarah upstairs. Lucy felt disgusted hearing the moaning, screaming, grunting, growling. It made her feel uncomfortable.
"Is this what the world has come to? ******* just for a good time with someone else just downstairs?" Lucy mumbled to herself, tears forming in her cocoa brown eyes. "I hate my life. I wish I could just drop dead
."
part 5 of the Sticks and Stones series. I hope you love it and be to comment what you think.
 Feb 2018 Cleo
Melodie Fowles
If
 Feb 2018 Cleo
Melodie Fowles
If
If I gave you my smile
Would you give me yours
Run your finger along it
Touch your forehead to mine

If I gave you my hands
Would you give me yours
Hold them gently
Our fingers entwined

If I gave you my body
Would you give me yours
Wrap yourself around me
Till we can no longer be defined

If I gave you my heart
Would you give me yours
Love me with a passion
Of our own design

If I gave you my soul
Would you give me yours
Merge the light and dark of them
So we can't be confined

If I gave you my demons
Would you give me yours
Let them play together
In our strange minds

These are the Ifs that I ask of you...
I only hope you will answer me true.
 Feb 2018 Cleo
ln
where is my indian
 Feb 2018 Cleo
ln
where is my indian
is it in the way i don't use my palms as a medium to transport rice into the back of my mouth
is it in the way my face turns gloomy at the sight of spice and curry
is it in my skin color that isn't as brown as you need it to be
is it in my eyebrows which aren't as bushy as per your requirements

is it in the way my tongue twists awkwardly as i say happy diwali
is it in the way amma is the most fluent piece of tamil i speak
is it in the way i didn't know how to recite the words at my grandpas funeral
is it in the way i cannot, for the life of me, name you another tamil movie besides chandramukhi?

or

is it in the religious classes i took up until age 12
is it in the ramayana epic that i learnt, age 8
is it in the sanskrit bhajans i was made to sing, not knowing what they meant, age 10
is it in knowing that ganesh is the remover of obstacles,
brahma, vishnu, shiva - the creator, the preserver, the destroyer

is it in the eyeliner drawing a bindi in between my eyes when i
head to the temple, to present myself as indian

where is my indian
is it on a checklist, is there a passing mark?
where is my indian
please tell me,
because i am tired of feeling like a foreigner in my own skin

— The End —