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late night hoops
24-hour fitness
you call me "white boy"
"how did you know?"
i want to say
funny
"hey white boy"
sounds a lot like
"hello mr. oppressor"

i am not
a poster boy for the past or present
a rusty slogan of inequality
or
a white boy

i am
irish norwegian german french-canadian native american
spud-eating fur trapping wampum-trading viking

i am
pumping pull-ups on the poverty line
just tall enough to ride the wel-ferris wheel
unable to tell my mother i love her
and
b   r   o   k   e   n
Deta
ched
scarred

******* my shirt like a salty otter pop
swallowing sweaty syllables
the pringle on my shoulder
about to crunch

game point
tie game
15
15

we are equal
even when i sink that shot
tickle that twine
we are still equal
you and i
 Feb 2018 sar
nichole r
pale skin
 Feb 2018 sar
nichole r
she was as pale as they come
smooth and silky skin
white as fresh dripping paint
all he wanted to do
was take a gliding pen
and draw his story on her body
in the darkest of ink.
 Feb 2018 sar
raine cooper
tall boy
 Feb 2018 sar
raine cooper
there is a tall boy living inside my chest
he is the fingerprints all over my memories
he's why i stand at the edge of this cliff,
and why the view burns my lungs
he is the reason i breathe
and the reason i can't
he is the answer to every question
and why i'm always asking more
he is the mist hovering over the ocean,
sometimes i can't see him
but i know he's always there
he is the reason i feel small
and why my hands can touch the sky
he is the tall boy living inside my chest
and even death will not take him away
©rainecooper
 Feb 2018 sar
Faith
I told him,
"If I could, I would gouge out my eyes,
so that you can see what I see.
I would rip out my heart,
so you could see who it really beats for."

He told me,
"If I could, I would chop off my hands,
so that you could touch heaven.
I would peel off my skin,
so you can be warm."

We traded our bodies,
and we learned where we stood.
I had the smell of his skin;
he had the beating of my heart.
there's really something about that boy in Algebra
 Feb 2018 sar
Isabella styles
eyes
 Feb 2018 sar
Isabella styles
I still don't understand how a pretty boy like you could be so drawn to my sad eyes.
 Feb 2018 sar
anonymous
now, what exactly are you, blonde, blue-eyed boy?
with your kiss like nicotine and your touch like silk
your eyes like a glass pool
your lips oh-so-chapped and bitten
you're tragic and damaged
you're a habit, a routine
nothing you would expect from just a blonde, blue-eyed boy.
 Feb 2018 sar
hannah
leaves
 Feb 2018 sar
hannah
the leaves were falling
the way i was falling
for you. //
h.d.
 Feb 2018 sar
Madisen Kuhn
boy
 Feb 2018 sar
Madisen Kuhn
boy
i saw you outside
on my roof tonight
with your messy hair
and cigarette glowing
between your fingertips and
you wouldn’t leave but
you wouldn’t come in
and i kept staring as you
blew puffs of smoke
with your back against my
bedroom window and
i wanted to get up and crawl
outside and sit behind
you and draw pictures on
your back of all the things
i didn’t know how to say but
my blankets felt like lead
so i whispered to my pillow how
much i love you and then
the sun began to rise
and you looked back at me
with ashes beneath your
eyes and i told my pillow
i wish you’d stay
but you didn’t you
never do
 Feb 2018 sar
Shivendra Om
Your uncolored hair
—my love—
is the indefinitely long
silver lining
of my cloudy heart
by Luca Shivendra Om
© Luca Shivendra Om
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