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 Feb 2014 Mikitara
carmen
fireflies
moonlit skies
starry eyes
empty canvas
drowsy nights staying up too late
movie marathons
the temptation of closed gates
homemade cookies
faraway lands
questioning authority
taking a stand
building sandcastles
finding your home
giving up something
you never owned
 Jan 2014 Mikitara
grace
rend.
 Jan 2014 Mikitara
grace
the flowers are over grown
i am left with i & i.
my skin is cut from stone;
my bones are made of ice.
i end. i return.

i am left with only vice.
my eyes rain.
my veins, their blood does course
through my body,
moving at a blind crawl:
to reach my fingers and toes.

the brazen image.
the ****** beat.
my knees drop from the air
to the level of my feet.
i am the bitter laugh
being released from your lungs.
you are the salt in the tears
the roll down my cheek onto my tongue.

the thief of sleep
or that eternal.
my eyes, they rain.
my body, it weeps.
 Jan 2014 Mikitara
Madeleine V H
We became the silhouettes of the dreams
we woke up in the middle of.
 Jan 2014 Mikitara
Lynn For Now
First things first:
I have not lost interest.
I am not bored.
I am enticed, ready to live my life my life with one.

With THIS one. Forever.
I could marry him tomorrow and be the happiest person alive.
SERIOUSLY.

So, why am I so interested in knowing the person right next to him?
Why am I using my time to research this other person's life?

Neither is more attractive than the other.
Truly.
Both faces, both bodies, both appearances are identically entrancing to me.

I know who mine is; we have talked, laughed, shared ourselves with each other,
and I love him.  
Stop telling me I don't understand this word.
Love means you would do anything, even die for another, and risk everything you have.
And I would.  I always will.

But I love meeting new people.  
I always have, and always will.
I know you, but I don't know him.
I'm hungry to learn more about this person.

Is that what this obsession is? Nothing more than pure curiosity?
If so, why am I not content combing through the photos you two share?
Why does sending him a short message saying "it was great to meet you!" put my stomach in knots and make me sweat?

Why do I see you and, if only for the tiniest millisecond, wish it was him?

No way do I prefer him to you.
No way will I EVER choose him over you.

No way will I actually fall for your own twin...

But I NEVER intend for you to see this anyways.
I have no convincing to you to do.  
You haven't accused me of anything.
I guess the only one who has accused me of this
is me.

But why try to argue with myself? I know I love YOU.  That's what counts.

So I'm not lying to anyone.  I'm not even lying to myself.

I just might not be telling the whole truth.
 Jan 2014 Mikitara
Pearl Feldman
Do not sell your ideals for a love
That is conditional and transitional,
It might cause you to give up the real you.
Seek that which is enduring
It will fulfill you more than passing pleasure.
Understand the limitations of others
But never let them trap you in their own reality.
Know what you really are -
You are a universe, you are beauty,
You are truth, you are love.
Forgive yourself for all the times
That you have hurt yourself and others
Know, that had your realised the truth
You would not have done the things to them
And most of all to yourself
Love all that you are
Love all that you see
Judge not, stay free
 Jan 2014 Mikitara
Ciarra Reneé
the amount of melanin in my skin often seems to conjure up some controversy so when I sit down to write and I see my hands, my light skinned not quite black but surely not white hands I think about the privileges thrusted upon me and when I begin to write I feel my hair against my back, my curly ***** but not quite ***** hair I wonder how what's on my head could make what's in it so frazzled
I often frustrate myself because I feel like my writing often centers around the fact that I am a woman and I am colored
and the fact that when I say I'm colored some look lost
in fact, in the film, for colored girls
Thandie Newton's character says "being alive and being a woman is all I got, but being colored is a metaphysical dilemma I haven't conquered yet."
and I found it frightening how relatable that was to me, being that I'm not quite almost a woman and not quite almost colored
but when I look at my poems they reflect that I indeed am
even though I'm lightskinned and I'm 16 and according to my white friends I'm, just like them because, as I've discovered our definitions of what a black girl sounds like and acts like and is like are extremely different
and I guess that reflects on who we've been introduced to
I have cousins and aunts and grandmothers and sisters
who represent what I believe emulate what a black woman is
and these white kids see what the media feeds about how black women walk and talk and act and lack
see when I picture a black woman I see beautiful smooth chocolate skin full lips round ******* wide hips and a smile as brilliant as her mind
when these kids picture a black woman they see ***** hair dark undesirable skin soup cooler lips and a mind filled with ignorance
and this is where my struggle begins
But in every ethnic group there is good and bad
and I am sick of black women only being associated with the bad
the fact that when most non blacks think of what a black woman is, they imagine an unintelligible mindless sassy loud mouth is over whelming to me
if you're skin isn't light enough or your behind isn't big enough you're only "pretty for a black girl"
I not only want to raise but destroy all expectations society gives black women
but I cannot do this alone
because we are smart and we are beautiful
we are troubled and we are strong
and we are one
once we stop tearing eachother down we can all be one
and I'm not sure why god blessed black women with so much beauty or why I'm so blessed to be one or why he put this determination in me but I think I will recognize it the day the world recognizes how beautiful are we.
 Jan 2014 Mikitara
Sebastian
A Haiku
 Jan 2014 Mikitara
Sebastian
I have never seen
The slumber of any fish
Nor has one seen mine
I realized one day, that I've never seen a sleeping fish... so I wrote this.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
©Sebastian @http://hellopoetry.com/sebastian/
 Dec 2013 Mikitara
Asphyxiophilia
I have imagined this moment over and over again and now it's finally happening and I can't quite tell which direction is up or down or backwards but I guess they're all directions so it really doesn't matter as long as I'm going somewhere. I've been watching my shoelaces as I've been walking and they seem to tighten with every step as though even they know you'll have me floating right out of them. My palms have already begun to sweat and the puddles they've created in my pockets are just deep enough to drown in. I look up for a second to see the air in front of me holding a string. A grin spreads across its face as it suddenly begins to pull and my breath is stolen from my lungs. I reach out to grab it but it has already disappeared and suddenly I realize I can't breathe without you here. I close my eyes and stumble, not wanting to go any further, not wanting to face the reality of a situation that doesn't involve sleeping beside you. But then I realize, that was something we never did. I have been falling asleep beside myself for years, I have been waking up with regret and a heart broken into more pieces then the number of tiles on the bathroom floor. I have been sleeping with my head on my own chest and praying that someday you'd fill the empty space between not being able to fall asleep and never wanting to be awake.
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