i am not your type? i'm no prince charming, i don't seem dashing
but i could be a charmander that can always re-lights our passion
i could make all your enemies writhe and burn
or the one that keeps your soul and body warm

drag your feet across the carpet,
i'll make your hair stand on end
i can be electric
fill your head with sparks

I'd be a rock type to you, for such a phenomenon
I'd be a boldore person that you could lean on.
I will anchor you down from thoughts of those with moodyness
And envy of my partner who's so pulchritudinous.

I could be photosynthetic, eat a mouthful of dirt for you
I'd go green with envy over any other lover
Let me be your grass type, I could be your ****
(Or just let me deScyther your thoughts)

I could be your faucet let your feelings flow through me
And I will sink every krabby memory you rue. See,
Can be emotional too, I could drown you in thought.
I could be your water type, without me you'll rot.

There will never be a reason to run away
I will always find how to give you a sunny day
It isn't unknown, to succeed, I will always find the words
I could be- wait you mean you don't like nerds?

I feel bad for women who date online.
There are good men in this world, I swear.
Not every man who walks the earth wastes his breath and your time,
with cro-magnon scribbles from a mind so bare,
that it comes as a surprise they managed even to write one line,
much less something so cerebral as this:
                              "Yo, prety gurl. Liek yur pic,
                                I so >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
                               Wanna see mah ****?"

So deep, right? What Socratic genius might have penned such lines?
Surely not even Shakespeare or Keats could craft words so divine!
I am so sorry, women who date online.
Truly, I'm sorry, on behalf of mankind

So apparently today is National Compliments Day.
I'd like to compliment Maha Salman.
She is a genuinely caring soul and has such a loving heart and an understanding personality.

Maha, thank you for being such a kind person and listening to me despite my extreme negativity. Thank you for talking me out of starving myself again, and being so compassionate. You mean a lot to me as a fellow poet and person. You are a beautiful friend :)

p.s. ur poetry is amaaazing

Don’t text me when you’re drunk
Don’t even say my name when you’re high
Don’t think about me when you’re with her
Don’t reduce my worth to that

I haven't heard from you in a while
I haven't pulled out your picture and looked at it in ages
I haven't written poetry about you in a long time
I haven't been missing you

You used to be more interested in books than Ecstasy
You used to swear for no reason less
You used to be kinder
You used to be what you aren't anymore

I secretly hope you've looked at my picture once or twice
I secretly hope you'll text me again one day
I secretly hope you miss me just a little bit
I secretly hope that if you ever decide to "miss me" again I have the strength and courage to say "That's nice."

not "I miss you too"

A tan makes you thinner.
A tan makes those curves seem firmer.
It'll disguise your stretch marks.
White is "pasty".
It's ok, you don't have to bake in the sun.

She looks down at her milky white skin,
Passed down through her mothers line.
A natural English rose.
All those years of battling the sun in her youth.
The only colour she got ranged from pink to searing red.

So a spray tan it is.
Now she has that "healthy glow".
In the mirror she sees all the tricks of the eye.
Now she looks how she's "supposed to".
She fits the shape of brown.

Her skin covered in the chemical concoction.
Does it look too fake?
She doesn't know, but that's ok
No one else knows either, this is the norm.
And she fits the shape of brown.

She looks at her stretch marks.
She used to be uncomfortable about them.
Her adult daughter liked them,
She called them shiny, silvery.  Now a light brown.
But she fits the shape of brown.

She fits into the shape
That society has molded her into.
She fits into society.
No longer that big white sore thumb.
She fits the shape of brown.

One size fit all?

I can imagine these moments so well
They make me happy
But they also make me really sad
I can imagine them
I am just afraid
I will never
Ever
Live these moments

Okay, you two. I want you to say sorry.
Now that she has said sorry, you have to say: That's okay.
There. Now it's all better.

**here is the problem with that, from a very young age, children are taught to simply SAY sorry, and not actually find remorse in themselves, they just say it whether they mean it or not, and they think there is no difference. The other problem: Even if you ARE sorry, not all things you do can be undone. Not everything IS "okay" now that you are sorry. Some things are unforgivable. It can't always be "all better".

Life flew by in the blink of an eye
That is, my life with you
4 months or 4 seconds
I can no longer tell the difference

Tick tock

1 Mississippi
I'm entranced by your eyes
Writing poems of melted chocolate
Does my name fit with yours
How perfect our life will be

Tick tock

2 Mississippi
I've never felt the way I feel
When you look at me that way
Like I'm a fish, on a rod that you reel
I could never leave your side
And you could never leave mine
But I'm afraid
Scared to death
Of what the future will bring
You say to trust you but I just don't know how, but I'm ready to open to you

Tick tock

3 Mississippi
You get better everyday
It's all down hill from the first kiss they say
But to me that was a bold faced lie
You're arms wrap around me
Filling a gap I never knew was there
No longer do I fear
You are me
And I am you

Tick tock

4 Mississippi
We are getting so close
Ready to be soul mates
But as the milliseconds tick by
It's starts to open my eye
When you say this
I say that
Maybe we aren't that right
Suddenly
You hugging me
Doesn't feel the way that
It should be
And as the clock strikes four seconds
Our life is over
Because I cut it, ended it
And wether it be our life or yours
It seems all the same
Since I feel like I'm standing now
Over the body of the boy I killed

Tick tock
Goes the broken clock

5 Mississippi
The rest of the world
Counts on
As I lay
Broken
Haunted by your endless echo
Why?
Yet deep down
I know one things true
We were never a five second thing

If I can find a guy who will watch "When Harry Met Sally" with me, without complaint, and will be okay with me talking through the entire movie, at 1 AM on a weekday even though we both have to work in the morning with tea, chocolate, and a fuzzy blanket, while I wear ugly sweats and an oversized hoodie with no make up and messed up hair, and somehow, if he can still find me beautiful at that moment, I know I've found the one.