Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Dec 2017
Marte Lindholm
To know her is not just knowing her
name, birthday and her favorites.

No, to know her you have to notice all the
little things that make her, her.

The way her fingers tap when her favorite
song is playing out loud.

The way her eyes always search for that
one particular person in the crowd.

The way she holds back a smile when
his name is mentioned.

Most of all, how she is when she is all by herself.

Nothing shows better how a person is,
than their behavior alone.
Then she is a hundred percent herself,
and that, my love, is the girl you want to know.
 Jun 2017
Gidgette
I keep my wish list
Upon my wrist
But they don't care for that

I keep my dreams
In makeup creams
They said to try that

They said live a fake life
Be a good little wife
I left, and died my hair black

I walk looking down
In vintage whisky I drown
And I'm ok with that

They said to "fake a smile"
Wear My pain with style
I'm no good at that

I try and cover my wish list
Written in scars upon my wrist
With the dreams, silent screams
Makeup creams
I'm not ok with that....
I miss you all. Please forgive my boldness here. Sometimes, I just have to SCREAM. The only way I know how. Much love to you all.
 Jun 2017
Elizabeth Squires
a southerly breeze
danced around the elm trees
teasing their leaves
A bow and arrow
I gave the God's hands
And red
I paint his hands and feet
No benches at school
Dad doesn't use pencils for
writing any more
The poets of my country are vanishing...
My mom never grows rice

...به دست های خدا تیر و کمان دادم
دست و پایش را قرمز می کنم
میز و صندلی مدرسه نداشته باشد
پدر دیگر با مداد نمی نویسد
...شاعرهای کشور من رو به انقراض اند
مادرم هیچوقت برنج نمی کارد

— The End —