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K Jul 2018
And I will smile at you with my ****** teeth and lips,
with bruised skin and broken knuckles pinning you down and twisting your collar,
And I will stare at you with my black eye,
And I may go limp but I will reach you
I won't run, my body will be stiff but I will reach you,
I will reach for your soul, for your heart
—and I will smile and look at you straight in the eye and whisper, "more."
K Jun 2018
are you my happy poem?
or just another sad poetry?
K Apr 2018
and a poem starts with a lump in the throat but what do you do if the lump keeps on gagging you
K Feb 2018
...and I couldn't think of somene who got my back, for I'm on everyone's back.
K Feb 2018
Some days feel like a hurricane,
and nights were the aftermath.
Then there's silence,
that's much louder than the war.

Some afternoons are for tea,
and coffee, or pre work out smoothie.

Some nights you feel like drinking wine,
or tequila, a bucket of beer
and sometimes all.
But, most of the time you feel like
throwing up.

Sometimes you eat clean,
but most of the time you eat ****.
Like how you eat your words.

On weekdays you work your *** off,
school, then gym, then study.
And on weekends you don't get up,
wearing pajamas and netflix all day.

It took me a while to understand
that life's all about balance.
You can't see sunshines
without seeing the storm.

It took me a while to understand
that this is okay.
And that it's okay not to be okay.
K Feb 2018
I'm not the love letter you send
with matching flowers
and chocolates that could make
my stomach turn.

I'm not the 18 stanza poem you write
with words that are breath taking
stating how beautiful I am
when I ******* smile.

I'm not a novel,
that you read at dawn
and you finish in the morning,
I'm not that fascinating to read.

I'm the suicide letter,
words does not come out much,
but when it does,
it will hurt.

I'm the suicide letter,
words does not come out much,
but when it does,
it will be too late.
it will be heart breaking when you receive one.
K Feb 2018
I won't be beautiful like the sun
as it goes down,
with colors that could hypnotize
and no one could forget.

It will be beautiful,
until the moon goes up
and replaces orange and red
with dark, dusty gray.

Sunshines does not last forever,
it gets replaced,
and this time, I won't be around
when the moon shows up.
I'll be the sunset. Not meant to stay.
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