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 Apr 2018 Jey Blu
Taylor White
Because when we were 12, we couldn't walk down our own sidewalk without having men whistle and shout, staring at us so hungrily, like we were some lost dog they thought they could capture and have for themselves.
Because when we were 13 only the girls had to watch what they wore, because shoulder blades and knees were to distracting for the boys at school, because there learning was more important than girls seeing themselves as a human rather than a distraction.The only learning girls were being taught was tips and tricks, because if our skirts were to short or our stomach was showing “we were wanting it”.
Bet being taught all the tips and tricks we learned didn't work because when we were 14 we were grabbed and felt up by boys in the streets and boys at the movies, but it was all okay because that meant we had **** bodies and and that we were hot. But there's nothing **** or hot about say “there was this man who”...
We were 15 when we screamed and sobbed for help because the man who stared at us in the streets were now in our sheets...When we cried “No don't touch me there” and “Please Stop” those were all whispers to carry on for you and that no meant yes in your head. Nothing about my tear stained face and paralyzed body meant i wanted to be touched.
But after everything that happened people tried to us that we should be lucky and get used to it. But how can you get used to being some human object men can abuse use and treat as they please.
How did we go from boys calling us mean and pulling our piggy tails to having a trail of tears stream down my face every night? Because i cant close my puffy and abused eyes without seeing the men who found there way into my dreams. I guess i went from playing with toys to becoming one.
 Apr 2018 Jey Blu
BacciaGalupe
Mommy wake up, someone's at the door,
Nobody ever comes here anymore.
Mommy wake up, I can't reach the phone,
You told me you'd never leave
Me alone.

I know you don't feel well,
You told me you're ill,
But mommy,
Don't you love me
Still?

Mommy wake up,
It's cold on the floor,
I don't wanna lay down here
With you anymore.

Mommy wake up,
I uncovered your head,
Mommy, please mommy,

Mommy,
What's dead?
 Apr 2018 Jey Blu
axr
for summerboy
 Apr 2018 Jey Blu
axr
i asked you the meaning of your name
and you said it means
the stalk of a lotus.
i think of all the times you bloomed before me,
thriving despite the negativity.

i didn't know what compassion meant
until i met you,
as i raged, wept and cried in despair,
you waited and held my hand.
i had forgotten what vulnerability meant
until i met you.
you showed me that we often love the wrong people,
we often show them the sides of us they never wanted to see.

the lawns of the school of economics
hold the memory of us bonding
over broken hearts and broken knees.
we laughed when our insides were breaking,
we tried to heal each other's wounds,
hoping that our words would be of some comfort for scars
left by former lovers.

we learnt how bad unrequited love hurts together.
when the spring arrived, i cried over a boy who never loved me.
you cried over a man who pretended to love you.
the commuters on the train may have overheard us maundering
did grief bring us closer?

i remember the sound of your laughter
during our phone calls.
i probably said something about my ex and his small *****,
your ex and karma. oh and our discussions on karma,
i can't wait till she gets me.

i remember when you held me tight
and promised me that it was going to be okay.

with time,
i have learnt to let go of certain memories
but i know i won't let go of you.
this one's for my lovely friend, M. i absolutely adore this man and he deserves nothing but all the love in the world
 Apr 2018 Jey Blu
liz
i'm capable of lust-
surely that's been proven true,
but am i merely lusting
when i gaze at you?

i feel my baser instincts
may have overtaken me before
and now, to some, i have
the reputation of a *****;

but now i smile at your names
and dream about your faces-
and ***** i may be, as i sit
planning visits to all these places.

if i am such a *****,
overtaken by my lust,
why am i heartbroken when
you all leave me, as you must?

silly little ***** i am,
and drowning in that name;
my loves shall ever be my loves,
though they treat me as a game.
 Apr 2018 Jey Blu
Poetoftheway
reaching the back of you

not sure I could.      not sure i would.
       scent of the crime uncommitted uncovered

the meandering is the man demigod demagogue taking
time
         pleasured mercy
                                         the remaindered searchingly
                                                                ­                                 suffices

you don’t speak plain english the only tongue i got
insert the coin in your slot commencing researching the
way in and
don’t think i want to find the way out to the
back of you hiding in the inside learning the way you visualize


playing amy winehouse as an overlaying graph to the autoroute
to the south of france, sur-la-mer, why ever leave and you come
in my mouth poems new each time

no exit. no back of you.  stuck in a longingly heaven

this house is my home and I know the sun brightest
when i put my coin in the slot of play and press the
new tune button at 4:10AM
thanks for the quirky comments for this quirky poem.  Not my normal style. Inspired by a poet here who writes quirky poems, many of which, I fail too, to fully comprehend. The only way I could hope to understand them was to  "insert the coin in your slot commencing researching the way in and  don’t think i want to find the way out to the back of you, hiding in the inside learning the way you visualize...no exit. no back of you.  stuck in a longingly heaven" and getting stuck, unsure if I want to reach...
 Apr 2018 Jey Blu
Mary-Eliz
Poetry
suggests
love
given freely
feelings shared
reaching outward
heart to heart
outward reaching
shared feelings
freely given
love
suggests
Poetry
A "strict" palindrome...I think! These are really hard! And I can only get short ones to work!
 Apr 2018 Jey Blu
Isla
love.
 Apr 2018 Jey Blu
Isla
She is unfinished stories and dog-eared adventure books. She is adorned with string lights and stray cat toys, an overflowing junk drawer and a perfectly loud laugh. She is kind brown eyes and witty comments. She is first.

He is pastel tears and bird feathers. He is Twenty One Pilots' lyrics and faded polaroids. He speaks in hushed tones and drinks mint tea. He will hold and let himself be held. He is empathy.

She is firey spirit and winged eyeliner. Glitter and badassery. She is scarred and beautiful. She protects and yells. Cries and laughs. She is ***** jokes and black clothes. She is who I am too timid to be.

He is a lone flame and endless darkness all at once. He is a sharp blade and subdued smile. Strong coffee, pop-tarts, and ripped jeans. Tae kwon do and boy scouts. He is too often forgotten.

She is buck teeth and Greatest Showman lyrics. Stubbornness and freckles. Conceals her self-consciousness with mock confidence. Funny faces and the best dance moves. She hides my things and steals my clothes. She stirs up trouble in the best way.

He is soft smiles and lego armies. He loves cats and make-believe (though video games are his first love). Creates pillow forts and mysteries, art and movie magic. He wears glowstick necklaces and no shirt proudly, as he should. He loves my heart.

She is willow trees and afternoon tea. Gentle rain and improv games. Quirky and polite, she is decorated with her gap-toothed smile and childish style. She hands out stickers and strums her ukelele with affection. She inspires me.

He. Oh God, he. He is summer skies and skateboards. Braces and freckles. He is a shell-collector and songwriter. He loves the stage. Compassion and hand-holding, cheek kisses and free smiles. He is devotion.

They hold me, and I hold them. We cry, we laugh, we hate. We sing and we dance, we talk about our dreams. We depend on each other. We love one another. Many would not be here without me.

And I couldn't be here without them.
This is my longest poem on HelloPoetry, dedicated to my wonderful, wonderful friends, those described in this poem and otherwise. I love you so much, don't ever forget that. ( also, kudos to you if you actually read all that!)
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