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 Jun 2014 Anabel Rose Kubabom
MST
I used to live on the coast,
with the sun shining every day,
as the gentle breeze would rush under my arms.
I was dragged to a city by a wonderful host,
whilst getting caught in the the disorderly fray,
as I was never able to get the hang of its charms.
You see I'm still not used to the everyday ******,
and the typical poor mans plea,
I think  of the soft subtle waves which hid behind my door,
and the way the light glinted off the calm sea,
I do not think I will get used to this damp city with you,
but at least I always awake with the most beautiful view.
He wants a sugar spun girl-
no lemon *****, no licorice, no peppermint.
Hard rock candy.

You gotta be sweet for him to crave you.
Sweet on the tongue, sweet on the eyes
in a package easy to tear, pop, unfold.

He likes it dayglo and with sprinkles,
marshmallow soft,
moldable and meltable ,
milk chocolate, white chocolate.
He shies away from bitterness.

Don't you dare fill him up.
He has a real meal waiting,
somewhere else, later.

Your job is
to be consumed.
What you need doesn't matter.

He wants candy, girl, not a meal.
Better sugar coat it,
or he won’t buy you
and you want to be bought,
don't you?
Pop culture treats many women and girls  like nothing but a product to be consumed and used. Sadly, a lot of these same women and girls buy into this, or aspire to it.
sometimes you're like homework
so confusing
and i just stare at you
absent-mindedly
hating you
yet you're important to me
it's so hard to finish you
and i lose inspiration every now and then
but when i get high as my grades
i come running back to you

i can't wait to graduate from school
get rid of this infatuation
we would be adults by then
and hopefully this mess will be sorted out
Eyes are the window to the soul
But you already know that

Everyone said don't look
a murderer in the eyes
unless you want to see
the devil inside

But i was a curious little girl
when no one was looking
except for him, my eyes couldn't help
but wander toward his

When i saw his eyes i had to silence my gasp
not because i saw the devil
but because i saw myself
his eyes only mirrored mine

Maybe it wasn't the presence of something
but the lack anything that led him to become the murderer
Watched a ****** trial and couldn't help but stare the defendant in the eyes
What will it be like
To kiss you?

Will it be
Romantic
Your soft lips
Pressed against mine
Our eyes closed
Savouring the moment
Arms wrapped around each other
The epitome of perfection.

Or will it be
Hot and passionate
My back against the wall
Our bodies pressed tightly against each other
Your tongue in my mouth,
And mine, in yours
As my hand gets entangled in your hair
And yours, stroking my skin.

Will I experience an eruption of
Emotions, feelings?
Will it leave me wanting more?

Well,
There's only one way to know.
I hereby apologise if I have shocked or disgusted you with a semi-accurate representation of the thoughts coming from a (not hormonal, I swear) 13-year-old's mind. A little too inappropriate, perhaps.
i have never been kissed
but my friend told me about hers
she's grounded
because he left a hickey
and i don't even know his name but i know what he tastes like
because she's just so **** happy that she's finally had her first kiss
and another friend was talking about kissing her other friend
she's my friend too, i guess
but they're girls, and i have no problem with that
honestly
but they're not even gay
and they're kissing just for fun
on a dare
and i know that i could never even pay someone to kiss me
because i know what i am
and that is not romantic
i know that i am  a monster with a crooked back
and a sad smile
who laughs like a kraken at terrible jokes
and rude towards people
and tries to fit in just a little bit more
and i know that i could never even pay someone to kiss me
because i don't even know the first thing about it
and i don't even know what's happening around me
but i only care about a kiss
and that's really not the best thing for the world
but to me it matters
is it supposed to matter so much?
May I kiss you?
Just for today
Just for an instant-
A moment-

Just for a day
May I kiss you?

May I kiss you?
In the rain
In the snow-
In the spring-

Just for a season
May I kiss you?

May I kiss you
Just for a moment
For alas I know
Not of the future

And even a kiss today
Is more than I can dream.
This is about all the times where I wanted to ask a stranger or someone I hardly knew for a kiss. All the thoughts of walking down a crowded street and seeing a young beauty and asking her for a kiss. This is a poem about the spontaneity and romanticism that I never took and how everytime I think of that opportunity I never took it reminds me of my mortality slipping away.
I can still taste the ***** on my mouth,
your hands around my waist, tracing my ribs.
I can still hear those sweet, sweet lies you told
me at three in morning.
"I love you"
"I love you"
"I love you"
I can still remember the way you pretended
that my skin was flawless, that my eyes were
the prettiest ones you'd ever seen.
I can remember the way you fell asleep next to me,
every breath heating the side of my neck.
I can remember you hugging me goodbye,
promising to call later.
Out of all the things I can remember,
why must you be the one to forget?
I gave you my love, I gave you my heart.
You had my feelings gripped inside of your
beautiful hands.
Instead of creating a magnificent story,
you ended the book after reading the back cover.
You threw me aside, not even bothering to tell me why.  
I can still feel the brokenness inside of me.
I can feel.
I can feel.
I can feel.
Collection series... There will be 5 more that complete the 6 months. Enjoy :)
Its 1 o clock in the morning,
There's too many hours in the clicking
Of that old ceiling fan.
And if it fell out of its hole,
And hit me,
Would you send flowers?
I think of bumping into you,
Somewhere big.
So nobody notices the sobs,
From both of us.
You cry because my skin is
Ugly
And I cry because your eyes are
Tired.
I wonder (1:05, why can't I sleep?)
If your smile (it never stopped)
Would falter,
With my stories of pain.
(You never stopped smiling, but
Missing you is stopping time)
(1:05)
Click, click.
Maybe I'll write you a letter.
Maybe I'll send it.
(Its 3:30)
One more word on the paper.
Sorry, and it's slanted, floating off its line
Misplaced, like I,
Before sleep.

r.c.
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