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what you choose it bound to
your skin
spooled tightly around
your ankles
gray and black rivulets
tight rope on the ground
walking straight, walking clean
watch your feet or you might
fall on to the
wrong path one where
men wave their thumbs at you on
the highway
while you swerve and
bend no tightrope
no
haywire haze on your
window shield
your parents want you to
pick up pieces of cloud
bring them back to
their aching heels
curved around the coils of
gray and black.
you’ll always wish they
could see how low
your wire is
how close you are to
jumping down and resting
your feet a while
maybe it’s time they
get themselves a thicker piece of land.
Mama likes to turn it up high.
Croon like there’s nothing but sweet, heartbreaking men
he tells her he loves her like there isn’t another woman
loving him forever is what she needs

Croon like there’s nothing but sweet, heartbreaking men
Shakes her head like she’s heard it through the grapevine.
loving him forever is what she needs
Dancing with the mop like he’ll stay true.

Shakes her head like she’s heard it through the grapevine
“Ain’t no mountain high enough!”  gaze turned up, looking for the one
Dancing with the mop like he’ll stay true
He’s just another man, he isn’t Motown.

“Ain’t no mountain high enough!” gaze turned up, looking for the one
he tells her he loves her like there isn’t another woman
He’s just another man, he isn’t Motown.
Mama likes to turn it up high.
War
Anderson Cooper has a beautiful face.
His mouth a respectful parallel line,
his eyes a beacon to alert us of incoming disaster
one where bombs erupt behind his wide shoulders
one where smoke clouds his view.
He is a shield of false hope
“Everything is alright” and
“this has gone terribly wrong” cover his brow as
winkles, reasonings, excuses, all over

Anderson Cooper has a beautiful face.
His lips quiver slightly as he raises a lingual gun
to the opposing side
only to lower it moments later with
a look of surprise that graces his cheekbones.
He is a weapon of mass destruction
a solid reflection lies underneath the mirror
one side of the body a beckon, the other a halt

Anderson Cooper has a beautiful face.
Dear man that I will meet
Capable of lifting me off my feet.

Who is fortunate enough to take my hand
And whisk me off to an uncharted land.

Don't you waste it.

The moment our lips meet
Must be something utterly sweet
to behold.

So don't you waste it.

Years lying in bed
Waiting for the words that have never been said:
"How I love you."

All of the waiting and stress
Leaves something to detest
I am wasting away

So don't waste anymore.

I daydream of (B)ryan
of Eddie
of Ben
Too many flow charts I've scribbled in pen.

I've been waiting for you
To come, clad in Blue
And kiss me.

Dear man, you'd better run
My patience cannot be refund- ed.

While I fret of a wrong choice
All I want is your voice
To whisper of my glory.
And begin my story.

Of love.

So don't you waste it.
Don't you dare waste me.
I have a lot of time on my hands...
Why is it you?
Of all people to have the ability to ruin me
why is it you? Bryan?

You're awkward and too tall
on top unmitigated gall
you're plain rude.

So why do I want you?
Bryan?

In my mind there's a collection
of every time you've shown affection
and

The slightest inclination
only heightens my determination
to trip you.

I want you to fall hard
for me. Bryan.

With every facebooked text
it's been my only request
for the whole year.

Did you notice?
Bryan?

When the smallest appreciation
left my pupils dilated
it's so degrading

When my faith in you is fading
more praise is awaiting
I am stuck in this net.

What's so unfair
is that you're not even aware
of what you do to me.

If I told you, would you love me?
Bryan?
If you knew how much I thought about you would you reply to my messages?
The thought comes almost everyday.
In English.
She sits beside me or near me or far.
And I begin to daze upon how it should be.

If only I had my dress.
If I had my dress you would see not my sarcasm,
But the lean meat that I am privileged to call my flesh.

If I had my dress you would not be intimidated by my skin
But left in awe by it's glow

If I had my dress you would not be able to fear my height
But embrace the perfect and soft curves as you look upon me.

If I had my dress you would no longer hear her shrill siren call over my deafening beauty.

Pretty speaks volumes,
But what does untouchable say?

Absolutely nothing right now.
****, High school is hard.
She walks with confidence.
She's the most beautiful girl here
and she knows it.

But she is lonely.
She has nobody to touch
and she yearns for it.

She is a writer.
Her pen graces paper
and she owns it.

There are so many things to say about her.
Her confidence, her beauty, her talent, her voice,
and I welcome it.
For, to, and about a friend
If I responded with "I'm doing good."
You'd say "You're doing well."

If I said "Oh! The king from Thor was-"
You'd say "Odin. His name is Odin."

If I asked "What did you think of the movie?
You'd say "It was terrible. The dialogue was atrocious, the plot was  sloppy, the actors were bellow par and I hated the fact that they both survived"

If I told you "I love you."
You'd say "I know"

You're just so Vulcan...
But I've always liked Vulcans.
Do you dare to break a window?
Oh angry girl.
Your accidental outburst puts us all to shame.

What did they do to you to make you like this?
Is it really my business?
You made it so when you broke that **** window.

You kicked it. With brute force and intent.
What was the window supposed to do?
(Surely not break)
Well it did-

I pray that your regrets last until the next decision;
when another insect crosses your path.
Perhaps then you would choose a wiser action?

Oh angry girl, I will never know what angry thoughts you hide.
"It was an accident, not out of malice," Gail defended.
"How can you kick out a bus window without malice?"
The woman on the other end replied.
True Story.
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