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poems are not all
sunshine and
rainbows

sometimes,
just sometimes
we have to ****
in the bathroom
sink of beauty
to find out how
repulsive it can be
underneath

I find the soap ****
of the shower drain
to be more enriched
with adorning features
than the palm trees
of florida

art
and all forms of it
are inexhaustible,
you could never
take that away,
including this
ugly
ugly
ugly
poem
Art needs its balance
Here is my heart
For you to take and abuse
Here is my body
For yout to misuse
Here are the sweet words
That I now know were lies
Here are the tears
From all the Good-Bye's
Here is my purity
That you tainted with your name
Here is my soul
That will never be the same
Here is my time
That i wasted chasing you
Here is EVERY single I Love You
That now has broken me
Here is ME
Here is Me
Here is me
That is nothing without you
Am going through my jar of broken heart peices and i cant seem to put them together again.... Maybe they will just stay broken.
 Oct 2016 Antoinette G
aa
you sit by the window, wondering if he's ever coming back.
but you know, in your little heart, it doesn't matter if he don't.
-
you have yourself now.
 Oct 2016 Antoinette G
lulu
"i'm sorry."**

the two words you uttered that night
the two words that still haunt me today
and the two words i never knew i needed to hear

did you mean it?
were you sorry for leaving me?
were you sorry for allowing your ego to overcome what we had?
were you sorry for what we had?

well, i'm sorry too.

i'm sorry for fighting for you
even when i knew it wasn't right

i'm sorry for holding you back
when you could've been happier with her

i'm sorry for loving you
when i knew you weren't for me
 Oct 2016 Antoinette G
Roy
Heartbreak lingers for so long
Was I not enough?
Why’d you leave?
Excuse me sir, but
"Heartbreak" isn't metaphor
It's physical pain.
 Sep 2016 Antoinette G
Oona
In this story,

she’s made of only blood, flesh, and bone. Her pair of
white-hot eyes trail down polycarbonate
bodies like liquor over skin, yes, I’m moving to
New York next weekend. Yes, I’m very excited.
She’s a
simmering bowl of office clerk and
caesius veins, swimming, always swimming.

It’s not like she has a lot of *** or anything, though she
likes bodies against bodies and the smell of
salt and sweat and gasps and heaves and
the thrill. 40s jazz and pill-shaped
freckles; she pulls her sweater down over her hands,
tries to calm down a heart that'll never stop
beating.

God. Yes. Yes to whiskey, yes to the new car, yes to falling
asleep without eating dinner. It’s about the new, the news, the
ivy and the flowers and the way that roses are so beautiful and yet they are
covered in thorns and green is a very pretty color until
jealousy turns everything brown and rotten and it’s all about the

way Venus fly traps are so wonderful and so so cruel.
(There're no unfortunate stories,
Every whole sheet was once a torn leaf.
A fraud story; a genuine history.)

One is a digit of love,
One, *a union of two.

If and Choice got married.

If became a single parent
Coz there's no Choice.

Fear and Strength contradicts
While Faith was the youngest
of the brood of three.

If invites both Fear and Strength,
But as always, they fought with tears.
Fear meets Anxiety and refuses Strength.
Anxiety isn't good, for great Fear
turns to be an ocean's bliss.

Strength was accompanied with Courage,
Determination and Righteousness.
Yet Fear was so loud and with Anxiety,
They brought forth Sin.
Pride and Lust, both strongholds of Sin.

The young Faith was bold
And Forgiveness was on her side.
Strength and Fear both got numbered
And tamed by Grace who was a child.

History says that Choice left If
But the death of Choice depends on If.
If knows not that Choice is in her heart,
In the melody of her soul.

If is a Choice; for they're one in heart and soul.
Choice isn't certain without If.
And Fear, Strength and Faith
Don't ever depend on If and Choice alone.
The three of them preferred Independence
And moved into another world --
A new home with welcoming Hope and greatest Love
And History was left untold.

*(end of story)
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