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 Nov 2015 Steele
Tom Leveille
8th st
 Nov 2015 Steele
Tom Leveille
someone's in the next room over
having *** while we
are weeping
what a way to mark the occasion
the day my fingers found a wound
you let someone else doctor
it's upsetting see
the bible in drawer next to us
the way our hands still
fit together
like the torn halves
of a love letter
the way you got
all dressed up like the rain
and how we couldn't tell
the difference in the shower
it was the longest hour and a half
spent crying
the hot water wouldn't give up
so why should we
right?
even though it was scalding
neither of us touched the ****
we knew this was supposed to hurt
your hair
a black mess against my shoulder
my fingers
oil in the vinegar of your hands
our bodies
the great divide
all the sobbing
a river runs through it
without the courage
to carry or **** us
so we step out
and drip dry
down to a mute breakfast
composed of quiet
and last nights liquor
as we came back in
there were people in our room
at first i thought them detectives
dissecting things
to see who had died here
i had forgotten this
was a hotel
and they were only
cleaning up after us
i wanted to stop them
plead
that the sheets were still perfect
that if they clean the bathroom
no one will know
what happened here
someone has to remember
"please
i know
these cigarette burns
by name
i will bury the faucet
let me take the tub
i don't care how
if i have to
i will drag it home by hand
"
 Nov 2015 Steele
ryn
Fangs
 Nov 2015 Steele
ryn
.
  •sharpened to                                  • prowling  this
  a point•made                                     hallowed night
  to sink easily                                      •to satiate my  
    into flesh •                                         hunger   pa-    
     power   to                                            ngs• know    
     maim and                                            my name      
    disjoint•                                            as i take    
       spilling                                             flight  •      
       blood,                        ­                    cower      
          warm                                          as i ba-      
           and                                         re my      
          fre-                                      fan-        
         sh                                   gs        
•                                •
.
.
Happy Halloween!
 Nov 2015 Steele
Helen
I wanted to write about
all of the emotions
that sit inside
my un beating chest
but perhaps I'll sit still
and ponder the demotion
of the feeling they have left

Because we don't always get
what we're asking for
and even if we are left
looking for more

We wander beside
a wordsmith
begging for his left overs
even though we don't know
exactly why we crave it

I'll just ask this?
What are we writing for?


See, because we like to fight
and the words don't
come out right
It leaves one of us
laying, on the floor

those upon the floor
see the cracks
we'd like to pour
our angst
into the ground
We're the ones
that miss all the fun
whilst laying down


So, hopefully you'll remember this
sitting on the bed,
even with your legs spread
I wasn't standing in between
your text message
to your next squeeze

I'm just going to be
mistakes you can't erase
*so easily
 Nov 2015 Steele
r
Blue chalk poems
 Nov 2015 Steele
r
I was ten when
I got caught stealing
blue chalk from the pool hall.

My daddy wore me out
with a black leather belt.

He said *What'd I tell you
about writing sad poems
on the back of the stones
at the orphan's graveyard?
 Nov 2015 Steele
r
I gave my hand twice
on the battlefield of love

Now let me ask you

how's a veteran pick up
the pieces with both
sleeves pinned-up

and why the hell does
a blind man need a crutch?
 Nov 2015 Steele
Syzygy
Pretty
 Nov 2015 Steele
Syzygy
"I'm not pretty"
You say as someone compliments you.
"I'm not pretty"
You say as you step on the scale.
"I'm not pretty"
You say as you try on those new pants.
"I'm not pretty"
You say as you leave to go on that date.
"I'm not pretty..."

...Yes. You are.
My dear, you are wrong.
When was the last time you've really seen yourself
Past that *one
pimple
and the stretch marks on your legs?

You seem to have overlooked
That sparkle in your eyes
When you talk about something you love.

Or how graceful your fingers are
as they skim the keys of the piano,
as they run down your arms
clasping your elbows
and your back arches forward when you're embarrassed.

Or your skin,
that could easily rival
the softness of your favorite cashmere sweater
which fits loosely over your torso,
bunching at your elbows
when you do chores with me
after saying I "don't do it right".

Or your feet
that trek across the creeks with me
when we sneak out every Saturday
so you don't have to go to your uncle's house
when your mom leaves to see her friends.

Do you not even see your lips?
Their rosy color,
their fullness?
The pair you bite when you're nervous or frustrated
that are usually a bit chapped
especially in this chilly weather.

My dear,
You are pretty.
You're beautiful.
Stunning.
Immaculate.
Ravishing.
Please don't say otherwise.
This may seem like it's directed purely to females, but males are beautiful, too.
 Nov 2015 Steele
Creep
Untitled
 Nov 2015 Steele
Creep
Sleepless nights lying awake in bed
trying to get another glimpse of the boy
that stole my heart
hoping that something will end the aching soon
knowing that sleeping will only just make me hurt more
for the dreams are too hard to bear-
they remind me so much
of what I want
but can't have-
at least,
not soon enough.
sorry guys ^^" i don't write that much anymore, I've been busy getting my life together haha- that and all is right :)

talk me down
by troye sivan
 Nov 2015 Steele
Mel Little
You made a poet fall in love with you
And expected her not to write sonnets about your eyes
Haikus about the way you kissed her in the moonlight
Expected the fire in her heart not to inspire couplets
You made a poet fall in love with you, and when you left
Expected her not to write pages about the ache in her chest
Write a soliloquy dedicated to her tears
Expected her not to feel every gut wrenching moment of the pen hitting paper like your words hit her in the most vulnerable places of her mind.
You made a poet fall in love with you, and you expected her to be silent.
That is no fault of hers.
 Nov 2015 Steele
ParisThePoet
Colorful leaves
Orange, yellow and red
A soothing breeze
And relaxing leaf beds

Lovely hand holding
The perfect cuddling weather
The best view to be beholding
Just one look takes away any displeasure

Carved pumpkins or pumpkin pie
Halloween or Thanksgiving
In the leaves I could forever lie
Nothing beats this feeling

And although the leaves will finish falling
And Autumn won't last forever
Every end has a new beginning
And both can be so beautiful
 Nov 2015 Steele
William A Poppen
Part of her is scarred

and she wraps that spot

with scarves, high collars

or extra mascara.

Remnant traces

ring her shoulder.

Embittered echoes
careen 
around her brain.

His self-inflicted torture

spills over onto her

as his crazed lashes
strike her 
bone deep.


Musty smells

from those moments

linger among
her nostril mucus.

She carries on

unable to attain

her forgiveness.
My attempt to empathize with someone who is being abused.
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