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what is
the opposite
of loneliness?

i am alone
on the top
of a hill
in the spring

i have fallen back
from my friends
my toes
curling
in sands of time
moving
with the tide

i am in a room
full of intelligent
funny people
whose pitch
matches my own

i'm lying
on the dew laden grass
of my garden
and staring at the sky
with his fingers
ensnaring
my own
anchoring
me
to the spinning
earth

what is the opposite
of loneliness?

maybe no one has felt it
and that is why
no one can tell
 Jul 2014 Monica's poetry
Cameryn
I'm tired** of being used
I'm tired of not being good enough
I'm tired of constantly harming myself to feel something
I'm tired of crying all the time
I'm tired of waiting for something to happen that isn't going to happen
I'm tired of waiting to be happy
I'm tired of not being okay
I'm tired of being hopeless
I'm tired of being in emotional pain
I'm tired of everything
I'm tired of being tired
I could go on forever
seems like
the
best
idea.

I'm not
going
anywhere,
and I'm
a fool
for
trying
every
****
day.
May 16th, 2014.
 Jul 2014 Monica's poetry
calion
i. when I was young, I was never complimented. I never felt good enough and it hurt and somewhere along the line I began complimenting everyone because I was never complimented and I never wanted anyone to hate themselves the way I did. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I want in her pants.

ii. we live in a country where a gay poet spoke at obama's second inauguration, where five openly gay senators serve, where all fifty states have had a gay elected officer in some capacity, so if I were to be gay, what's the problem with a relatively unknown sixteen year old girl from a relatively unknown town in a relatively unknown state being gay?

iii. do you want me to be gay? do you want a better, more socially acceptable reason to make fun of me? is my weight not enough?

iv. I was taught the term fluidity by my best friend Alyssa. she firmly believes that sexuality is a spectrum, like many other things. I have a different view on sexuality because I see it as a spectrum, not something that's set in stone.

v. I like making people happy, I like completing people, I apologize a bit too frequently and I was taught how to accept people.

vi. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I like her. just because I say a dog is cute does not mean I want with the dog. just because I say a painting is pretty does not mean I am going to **** the painting.

vii. aesthetic is a very important word.

viii. there are three kinds of attraction, aesthetic, romantic, and ******. just because you have one does not mean you have all three. just because I like the way something looks doesn't mean I am going to have *** with it.

ix. sexuality is an Identity. not a YOUdentity.

x. I'm not gay, but if I were, trust me, I wouldn't go for such a whiny little *****.
rumours are fantastic.
 Jul 2014 Monica's poetry
Remus
Fear
 Jul 2014 Monica's poetry
Remus
"Are you afraid?"

Yes I am afraid.
I'm afraid of so much
like the endings to books,
actually loving someone,
having to tell my mother
what I am.

I'm afraid that my family
will hate me,
that my friends already
do.
That everyone who sees me
labels me as
Miss Confused.

I'm afraid of death and life
and everything in between the
two.
Maybe I'm afraid of myself
but I don't truly have
a clue.

I know I'm afraid of who I will
love one day.
What if they hate me now
or what if they think I'm weird?
What if it's the person I broke up
because I didn't love them
anymore.

I'm afraid of a lot of things
and everyone knows it.
Because a world without
fear.
Is like a world without
law.
It's unruly and unjust.
And you do stupid
things that can
get everyone
killed.

So I'm afraid of the alternative,
the thing I fear most
in this world.
 Jul 2014 Monica's poetry
Remus
When I was younger
I snuck kisses to a kid
during nap time.
The teacher had to
separate us since
I wouldn't stop
kissing them.

Now eight years later
and I hate recalling the
ever so burning
memories.

People don't believe the
story.
Seeing that I'm not
attractive
and that I'm so
awkward.
They say I make it up,
but no I'm not.

I was going to marry
the kid.
I really thought I loved them.
I loved how they smelt.
Or the way they laughed.
The way they said my name made me smile.
I was a little seven year old
who fell in love.

I wonder where they are now.
But I would never know
since they shut me out of their
life.
After I left the daycare I saw them
once.
They ignored me as our mothers
spoke.
My mom got onto me for not
talking to the kid.
I couldn't bear to tell her
that I had kissed that kid
that I really had liked them.

I couldn't tell her because that kid
was a girl and I'm a girl as well.
"She'll hate me" I told myself
So I've never told her about
the shared kisses and moments
between me and that other
little seven year old.
I just needed to get this off my chest
This is a story
Let me start way back
There was a young boy
Who should of cracked

His dad was bipolar
Through the abuse his mom would bawl
Bullet through his head
The little boy saw

His father die right in front of him
That was the end
Little did he know
His heart would never mend

He grew up all alone
Never knowing why
That all those years ago
His father had to die

Fourth grade started, and he turned nine
That's when he noticed he was different from you or I
Everyday in school he was bullied
Every night he would cry

He quickly changed schools
Even prayed for his sins
He became invisible
As he tried to fit in

To this day he looks for acceptance
He can even say
Life is hard
To make it worse, he is gay

With hate all around him
He looks for the light
Because darkness will cave in
If he does not act bright

As time ticks away
If only people could see
He keeps these emotions at bay

And that boy was me!
First poem I wrote in so long...
 Jul 2014 Monica's poetry
Jack
If I were a dollar,
I'd be easier to change
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