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  Jun 2014 Lani Foronda
MBishop
There are no questions in poetry.
Only thought-provoking, ambiguous statements that we perceive to have an answer.
Lani Foronda Jun 2014
You are quick to arms
But all you use is your voice.
You spit out bullets
Aiming for the heart
But all you have is hot air.
You huff and you puff
Like you're the big bad wolf
But all you are
Is a man with a bull horn.
To you force is not physical
But mental and emotional.
The only thing you push and shove
Is my self-worth
Lower and lower
Down my throat.
I'm choking
I'm drowning
I'm dying.
I need air
But all I inhale is your hate.
April03,2014
Lani Foronda Jun 2014
You will be my greatest heartbreak.
You will be the reason why I hide from the rain
Why I sleep early on school nights
Why I avoid numbers.

I'll never look at stars the same
Since you'll be looking at the same ones just a block away.
This school
With its halls
     Lockers
          Desk
               And doors
Will never be my second home
Because my second home will always be you.
This hill-
This sweet welcoming hill-
Will just be a reminder of how far apart we really are.

But the worst part
The worst part
Will be reaching for another book,
A story that I had loved
A story that you had loved
A story that you will never read.
You will always be there
Etched
Woven
Embroidered
Between the lines of each turning page.
You are the boy next door,
The unexpected ally,
The hero to the story.
You are the twist and turn of events,
The cliff hanger,
The conflict,
The resolution.
You are the emotion held between the quotation marks,
The cliche phrases,
The words that break the reader's heart (just like mine).

You will be my greatest heartbreak
But also my favorite.
Because at least for a moment
You held my heart in palms of your hands.
April17,2014
This is for that one person who you know you will never regret giving your heart to.
  Jun 2014 Lani Foronda
Megan Grace
i
a  m
positive
that   you
are  made  of
s  t   a  r   d  u  s  t
and  water  balloons,
oil  pastels  and  the
collecti­on          of
settled     sugar
at             the
b o t  t o m
of      my
c u p s
o     f
t e a
  Jun 2014 Lani Foronda
Lunar
beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display
I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.
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