Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 2017 Maggie
red
stars
 Jun 2017 Maggie
red
i think about you
as i gaze at the stars
dazzling, twinkling stars
out in the cloudless sky

sparkling like glitter,
accompanying the moon
are miniature specks of light
gleaming all-night long

i sit here in the meadows
looking at the shimmering stars
dancing to the faint music
made by the rustling of the trees

now, i stare blankly
realizing how sad it must be
to be like a star, far away from
its nearest neighbor

the both of us are like stars
struggling to find
each other's light
because we are light years apart
 Jun 2017 Maggie
red
untitled
 Jun 2017 Maggie
red
the only thing
that's left with
my burning
and unrequited love
are cinders capable
of flaming up again

i'm just waiting
for someone
to light it up again
but it surely
won't be you
 Jun 2017 Maggie
Dusk
Pretty girls get what they want
That’s the background radiation you grow up with
Princesses in every color (dress) waltz across your screen
Pretty curled pigtails and pink ribbons get you more
Than comfortable jeans and the Saints jersey your uncle bought you
“What a pretty girl!” your nana coos, reaching into her purse
Pretty is important, you decide.
So you ask your mom if she can curl your hair for school tomorrow, pretty please?

You’d be pretty if you smiled more
It’s leered at you at the bus terminal
After a long day of work, or school
But you take it to heart anyway
Smiling your way through life
Becoming a magazine cut-out of a girl
With a flawless smile glued on, even when you're tired
Or sad
Especially when you're angry
You decided pretty is important
More important than feelings, than yourself
So you ask your face to stretch a little wider for you, it doesn’t hurt too bad, right?

She was asking for it
He grumbles on the stand
His voice was rough against your paper thin skin and your magazine ready smile
He's right, you realize, as the jury starts to nod
Must have been asking for it, they think, you think
As they wash away his guilt, wash away what he did
Hes squeaky clean now, but you still feel rotten
Your insides decaying as your perfectly composed shell starts to crack.
She must have been asking for it, everyone thinks
Don't pretty girls get what they want?

— The End —