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Dawn Sep 2019
i've only ever locked lips with boys,
and although you're younger than most,
you're the man i want to kiss.
Dawn Jun 2019
it's so cold
i'm starting to miss the warmth or self-forgiveness
i wish i hadn't left my jacket at home
im starting to hafe myself again and the weather isnt helping
Dawn May 2019
you remind me of quiet weekends —
of breezy morning air touching skin,
of warm bright sunlight touching skin,
of silent calm waves touching skin,
of bed silk covers touching skin,
of skin touching skin.
i've been thinking about a concept and i started writing it, only to feeltheneed to separate it into different poems because of the different writing patterns i have thought of
Dawn Apr 2019
i am scared of being in high places
like looking out the windows of high rise buildings,
or walking to the edges of cliffs
they say it's never really the Fear of Heights,
but rather the Fear of Falling.

not for me though, no

what really scares me
is the thought of changing my mind about falling
all the while plummeting down to my death
A poem about indecisiveness, a first about all my insecurities.
Dawn Mar 2019
we once watched a movie together
where the protagonist obsessed over the social constructs of beauty.

she'd chant relentlessly
i'm happy when i'm beautiful
i'm happy
when i'm beautiful
i'm
happy
i'm
beautiful - -

or was it the other way around?

i'm beautiful when i'm happy

whatever it was, i just wanna say
i miss being beautiful with you.
Dawn Nov 2018
i used to think about you
in the hazy moments
before a class lecture ends and a quiz begins
where i zone out
between writing my name
and answering the first question
how i zone out
half-asleep and half-bored,
but enthusiastic with the idea
of studying for exams with you.

i used to think about you
in the quiet moments
after a long *** day balancing school and work
where i walk
from the gate
to your front door step
how i walk
tired and exhausted,
but energized with the idea
of talking to you.
god, i miss having a reciprocated crush
Dawn Nov 2018
i keep things to myself,
                                   and still feel empty.
oh, how twisted language can be.
irony twisted bottle up
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