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Dec 2013 · 1.1k
How to flatter a woman:
Carla Michelle Dec 2013
There's a moment where nothing is being said
and nothing is the absolute meaning
to this absence of a pity conversation
that was better off never said.
The rules read:
1: Touch her skin.
Take the particles that make up
her oatmeal skin into your hands
and refuse to take it back.
2: Grab her face.
Bottle up all your enemies,
take her colored cheeks
to your ruthless thumbs
and simply
graze.
3: Look at her eyes.
Remember all things
that once damaged her
or the ones who have told
her too much already.
And find out the very things
she insists on keeping from
you.
4: Don't you dare ******* blink.
Don't you ******* choose to forget
the way she looked at you, the way
you did the same when she put the
auburn roses upon your cheeks.
Nov 2013 · 769
Trees, fuck em'
Carla Michelle Nov 2013
Down,
down at the bottom
of that pit less
***** you call
your stomach
you all have
taken
or
thought
about the mere fact
that there's
one thing
in the soulless
trench whom we've
named Earth
which controls our
"meaningless lives."

A piece of ******* paper.
That kind of off-forest green,
torn up, and passed around
slice of priceless paper.
A tree in the form of a
rectangle shocks our eyes
with ******, vengeful
appeal every single day
of our withering lives.
Could it be the
face that we've
memorized off of
Mount Rushmore
that makes us
believe for even a second
that our taste could possibly
be a bit more
lavish.

**A piece of ******* paper.
Nov 2013 · 3.1k
Zodiac Sign
Carla Michelle Nov 2013
It was eight in the morning
when I woke up last,
the eighth time.
The thoughts pondering
along my thought stream
had been counting the
very things that
could have had the power
to wake me up.

One: Did I forget to lock the door?
Two: Maybe I forgot to turn off the stove.
Three: Did I say "goodnight" to you?
Four: Did you...never mind
Five: I'm kind of missing you right now.
Six: It's cold, where did my warmth go?
Seven: You're not here.
Eight: Your ******* zodiac sign.

Eight things that formed my brain into
the complex shape of an
octagon with little or no struggle.

Though the eighth thought
had given me all I've needed,
all I lacked,
and all I wish I never had.
But everything I never
want to let go.

Your ******* zodiac sign
you're *******
beautiful
on that scale from one to twelve.
Nov 2013 · 682
Boys.
Carla Michelle Nov 2013
Some say we scare them,
some just pass by and think
"**** delinquents."
But then some stare
and start to remember
the times when they
were this young
and had so little
running through
their minds.

My mother warned me
one day
about these "gritty teenagers."
One day
she was being warned.

You never ultimately understand
the minds of the people
that can't understand
their own.
But these people,
created a world
that has changed
on many different occasions.
This world that
is full of angst
and has smoke clouds
forming around
the most chaotic
people.

I wonder sometimes,
on off days,
how this is all possible.
How could I have found
such contradicting comfort
in the people
in the places
where I once used to be
scolded about.
I've learned to
accept that
it's just an off day
that has worked out
in my absolute favor.
And I never want to have
another on day
again.


We roam the streets,
yelling obscenities.
Or just sit in a
crowded garage
that never gets
claustrophobic.
We throw out conversations
about ***,
and have no care about it
because we're teenagers.
We flaunt out every secret
that we aren't supposed
to know,
and never keep quiet.
We comfort each other
when others
can't see the world
as clearly

as I can.

Sometimes I wonder
why people don't
approach me more often
to ask me
"Where are your friends?"
when they probably know
that I'm one of those
"gritty teenagers"
that'll respond with
"having a smoke somewhere."

and some days
I don't want to ask myself
if I'm ready to leave
the people
that I
ride in cars,
sleep,
slap,
*****,
waste my time
with.


I'm not sure
if I should
ever
be ready
to leave
the people I name
after the synonym of
male.
Nov 2013 · 1.6k
You wanted to know
Carla Michelle Nov 2013
(v)        
Yearn /yərn/*

If I want
to tell you something
I'll write it

I want copious amounts of things.
I want to be able to read to you
without the fear of
boring you .
I want to witness the half grown smile
that you carry in the morning
when you just aren't happy.
I want to be able to touch
your skin-
oh your fragile yet strong skin-
when you just come out of the shower.
I want to feel your breath
on the top on my collarbones
when your body is pressed
so tightly against mine.
I want to feel the warmth that reaches
my cold skin
from just one touch from your
hands.
I want to tuck those hands in between
my thighs-in the most *asexual
way-,
while I sleep.
I want to press my lips
against the side of your face
when things aren't
so public.
I want to listen to you
complain,
after a long day .
I want to continuously
bicker when you ask me
"What color is the sky?"
only because  I know you'll
come up with some odd
explanation for why I'm not right.
I want nothing,
I need nothing,
I seek for nothing
more
than to just want you
and have you want me
in return.
Nov 2013 · 616
Morning Breath
Carla Michelle Nov 2013
What’s that one thing you’d fall completely in love with over and over again?
Is it a feeling? Is it a sound? A person?
Could it be the morning light that you catch seeping into your room from the partially opened shutters right when you open your eyes and relax your weak arms from that brutal stretch? The way the room automatically becomes a shade of blue from the cloudy sky?
Maybe the way you feel when you take a perfect glance at your surroundings,
that feeling of relief.
Relief because not only are you waking up alive but,
to a room that glows with “New start” written all over it.
You’re not just slouching there like a room full of sorrow just hit you in the face. You’re thinking all things bright and beautiful are coming today.  In that moment, I don’t need your help. I don’t need your sympathy. You’re not even a use to me anymore in that moment because I’ll be by myself at the end of the day.
You’re not my possession.
Honestly, you shouldn't even be important but, you seem to always know your way around this town. All I’m saying is at that moment, nothing matters, not you or this ****** up world. But, at the same time everything matters. And you’re not on that list, just my coffee and I in this room for the rest of the day.
Nov 2013 · 681
Your capability
Carla Michelle Nov 2013
There are things that I'm not sure of.
But I am sure that you despise being
alone and will do anything not to be.
You hate when things that shouldn't
be romanticized are. You like it when
people see past your ego. You're hard
enough to convince of something so
small, but even then I constantly try
to get you to see that I am sure of the
things you said I wasn't capable of.
I am capable of memorizing your
full name and the date you were born.
I am capable of  keeping it platonic.
But I am not capable of letting you think
I am not capable of knowing you, only
because you are afraid to mean something.

— The End —