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Mahdiya Patel May 2020
Little brown girls are taught safe love,
Which isn’t safe at all.
Love that is easy, love that is accepted.
Love that you don’t have to pick at like a scab,
Love that they see fit. Love that makes sense.
Love with a man and a woman who have tea together in the morning while the birds sing them well wishes for the day.

I have always found myself rebelling against my cocoa soil.
I have dug deeper into the dirt to find mischievous love, which always felt warm to me ; just like tea.
Maybe the warmth came from the rush of blood, the paranoia of being exiled, the heat came from another woman or another man or both a man and a woman simultaneously- quite heated is it not?

Little brown girls are taught safe love, but I am not brown nor little anymore. Watch me emerge from the dirt , budding the most ******* release. A simple rose ( or two ).
Mahdiya Patel May 2020
I’m not the type of beautiful that aggressors with your senses all at once, nor am I the type to make the stars stare. But I am the type of beauty that dictates spaces ,I **** up air with my soft energy, and I lure you’re in bit by bit , making you uncover the depths of my beautiful
I then start ******* your fears and painting them with rose water, I feel the textures of how you think and submerge myself into the folds of your brain ,I begin to creep around in your thoughts and I implant the real me ,and this is when my beauty will overpower your feelings
Never harshly my love , by softly , like the drip of a tap, and this implantation is worse than being injected with venom that kills you slowly.
You will bow down to my beautiful , because it’s the type that takes your life slowly , the type that you don’t realize is there.
Mahdiya Patel May 2020
Someone once spoke to me about my honesty and how they loved watching it drop from my lips and implant in the thoughts of others
I realized tonight in the crisp coldness that I am often not honest with myself

So I released my thoughts from their cage and allowed them to wander . . .
not too far and in a minutes time they discovered disgust

They discovered hypocrisy that I grew by myself that I bred like a new species

I mean I preached loyalty to crowds of souls that had the honor of stroking my heart
Yet I betrayed them by sneaking around and luring boys in
To touch my core
But not the real core
The superficial one which fed their egos and absorbed attention
( this monsteral core fed on attention )


~beastly

Why do I not feel bound to your love? Why does it not weigh me down and cage me in ? Why does it allow me to play with others?
Why does it let me engrave a rough impressionistic font onto the lips of others?
Why am I not suffocating in your embrace ?

Why am I wondering from your purity
Like a pilgrim on a journey into a domino effect
Making boys fall
At my feet , girls too
Like a goddess
  It excites me to be craved
To be worshipped and praised like a deity not to be ****** with ?
Can only toxicity keep me excited
Is your holiness too safe? Is their rebellion running through me?
Why do you love me so much ?
You can’t save me
You don’t know how to play with such a force
I want to devour you
I see you bowing down to me
   I’m running not to the ocean but to a herd of sheep
I hear the waves crashing behind me
I feel the pacific liquid in my ears
The flock is waiting to worship me

You are standing on the sun burning...  
suffering like a servant , begging for me to stay

I choose you because your purity makes me feel holy
A little sane

Selfish?
You say that I’m not
You say that I’m kind and pure
I feel *****
Like I need to wash myself off of me
Bathe me . Stay around I want to be cleansed
I will sober up for you
From his high and from myself ...
I am softness I am rose water and I will continue implanting my beauty in the minds of creation and making them fall like soldiers in war
subtly like a fairy with dust.
And I’ll come back to you , all ready for equilibrium

... I know you’ll be waiting , you always are
Mahdiya Patel May 2020
I’m not the type of beautiful that aggressors with your senses all at once, nor am I the type to make the stars stare. But I am the type of beauty that dictates spaces ,I **** up air with my soft energy, and I lure you’re in bit by bit , making you uncover the depths of my beautiful
I then start ******* your fears and painting them with rose water, I feel the textures of how you think and submerge myself into the folds of your brain ,I begin to creep around in your thoughts and I implant the real me ,and this is when my beauty will overpower your feelings
Never harshly my love , by softly , like the drip of a tap, and this implantation is worse than being injected with venom that kills you slowly.
You will bow down to my beautiful , because it’s the type that takes your life slowly , the type that you don’t realize is there.
Mahdiya Patel May 2020
Who knew a 2 ply Egyptian cotton duvet could feel so heavy on my tiny body.
Who knew that a mattress could **** me into it , tangling it’s fibers to my veins.
Who knew that a pillow would make me sink a billion parallel universes away from the love of my life.
Who knew that getting out of bed would be so difficult?
Who knew that the very bed would keep me from your light.
Who knew that, that bed would take you away from me.
~ a story about depression and a bed
Mahdiya Patel May 2020
I own a military camp for the men that I love. I train them ready to **** , in perfection . Lessons include how to be a gentlemen 101
Which constitutes of how to open car doors, never to let a ladies roses die, to let them always walk first.
A module on mental illness and how to sooth it with shushes and slow rocking and to read poetry till the demons fall asleep.
I teach them about love , but not the type ordinary people carry, the type I only possess , a fiery magic infused love . And how librarians hear of the myth of mahdis love and how poets glide their finger tips over it in hopes to achieve this nirvana.
But no other than the men I love will experience this type of paradise this devine pureness my love encapsulates. I train them to a point of complete submission.
And then then draw power from my magic, they break me and they share what I have gifted them with someone else who they get to love for eternity. Tell me why do I take so much time with my masterpieces if they just choose other homes .
Mahdiya Patel May 2020
today after many moons , I rose with the sun. The birds pulled me by my hair to come feel the crisp air. The breeze wrapped me up in a frozen blanket. And that’s when you said you’ll be surrounding me. Strange how your embrace is cold, when I can’t hear the warmth of an “I love you”

Strange of how “home” is only warm when I’m under your wrath begging for air. You are air. That which flows through my trachea into my vessel .
Air head - filled with none but you.

Inside me, filling me to the brim with your colorful splatters. Just a litre more, *** on daddy. Almost there... pooooof, sudden release. Watch the birds are flying. The heavy winds have quitened down. A calm after the storm.
Pleasure in all forms, surround me, in you.
A breeze on the cold morning fueled by the cotton candy sky.
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