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 Feb 2022 N
ToxicMellowFellow
Natapos
na
ang
mga
nasimulan,
at
sisimulan
na
ang
pagtatapos.
 Feb 2022 N
Lev Rosario
Nais kong yakapin ang aking sarili
Bigyan ng mainit na gatas
At patulugin sa malambot na kama

Huwag kang matakot
Tao ka lang at tao rin lang sila
Hayaan **** managinip ang iyong kaluluwa

Tandaan mo ang iyong kabataan
Ikaw ay minamahal
Ikaw ay ginto

Ikaw ang tagabuhat ng umaga
Ang kanta ng mga matatabang maya
Ang almusal sa puso ng iyong pamilya

Pag gising mo, huminga ka nang malalim
Mag jogging ka sa iyong hardin
At ibigin ang init ng araw sa iyong mukha
 Feb 2022 N
TheIdleOwl
59
 Feb 2022 N
TheIdleOwl
59
Today my dream shattered before my eyes:

They didn't listen,
I wasn't fun,
Who is this robotic person
I've become.
 May 2018 N
Charles Bukowski
we like to shower afterwards
(I like the water hotter than she)
and her face is always soft and peaceful
and she'll watch me first
spread the soap over my *****
lift the *****
squeeze them,
then wash the ****:
"hey, this thing is still hard!"
then get all the hair down there,-
the belly, the back, the neck, the legs,
I grin grin grin,
and then I wash her. . .
first the ****, I
stand behind her, my **** in the cheeks of her ***
I gently soap up the **** hairs,
wash there with a soothing motion,
I linger perhaps longer than necessary,
then I get the backs of the legs, the ***,
the back, the neck, I turn her, kiss her,
soap up the *******, get them and the belly, the neck,
the fronts of the legs, the ankles, the feet,
and then the ****, once more, for luck. . .
another kiss, and she gets out first,
toweling, sometimes singing while I stay in
turn the water on hotter
feeling the good times of love's miracle
I then get out. . .
it is usually mid-afternoon and quiet,
and getting dressed we talk about what else
there might be to do,
but being together solves most of it
for as long as those things stay solved
in the history of women and
man, it's different for each-
for me, it's splendid enough to remember
past the memories of pain and defeat and unhappiness:
when you take it away
do it slowly and easily
make it as if I were dying in my sleep instead of in
my life, amen.
 May 2018 N
Anivas Forrester
Time of death:
3:44.
When you told me you don't love me anymore.
Place of death:
The park where we met,
on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
I remember the dreaded words which escaped your lips,
the heat in your words,
the look on your face,
as I took a metaphorical bullet to the chest;
it hurt like Hell.
Cause of death:
You.
When you stabbed me in the heart for the first
and last time.
A fatal blow.
But in the coroner's office,
all the report will ever show is:
time of death:
3:44.
Cause of death:
Trauma to the chest.
When your heart gets broken by someone, it feels like you've been struck in the chest. The air feels like it's been knocked right out your lungs and you feel as though you can't breathe. You feel a mixture of emotions all blurred into one mess. You play the final exchange in your head over and over again, and each time it gets harder and harder. Heartbreak. It feels like you've been stabbed in the back and shot in the chest all at once.
What happens when the good girl goes bad
like the spoiled milk she left out?
Because I couldn't seem to get up.
I think it was something about acknowledging that I'm alive, I'm here.
Wouldn't it all be easier if I wasn't?

When the good girl goes bad
because she worked her *** off on that paper and only got a C.

When the good girl goes bad
because the world doesn't treat her right,
but I guess it must because that's
how come I'm the good girl.
Not my depressed sister sitting in her room;
not my other sister running around, destroying everything I had to work for;
most definitely
not my other sister who always seemed to be your favorite but is now smashing plates in our backyard,
'cause I guess that's what happens if you get too close to you.

When the good girl goes bad,
you get angry because
I'm supposed to be your perfect child
not supposed to be
your ***** up child
your lonely child
your lazy child
your anxious child
not supposed to be
your good for nothing child
your dysfunctional child
your doesn't give a **** about anything anymore child.
why don't I ******* give a **** about anything anymore?

When the good girl goes bad
your life falls apart,
because clearly
you had enough to deal with already,
because clearly
this is all my fault,
because clearly
you don't have the time to face your good girl
and
because clearly
that's all on me.

When the good girl goes bad
because you left her out on the counter all those years, sitting there to rot.
And though I know that you can't waste your time putting it away, 'cause you never cared for it anyway,
maybe you shouldn't have bought the milk if you didn't want to drink it.
And I know the milk should take care of itself
but I tried and that only works for a couple of years
before the good girl gone bad falls far off the counter, spills across the floor,
and the only thing left is to throw that nasty old milk away
because your bread, eggs, oil, etc. need your attention
and it's just too late for the good girl.

When the good girl goes bad
because she never asked to be the good girl
or maybe I did, I don't really remember,
but not like this.
I just wanted to be loved
but little did I know that
the good girl just sits there
keeping herself afloat,
but the boat can't guide itself if it wasn't given eyes.
The boat can't patch itself if you keep telling it its still brand new
when its really old, broken, and covered in holes.
You shouldn't put a boat in the water if you know its going to sink,
but I guess you only really need a couple good boats
so you can just toss the good girl.

When mama's little good girl goes bad,
she feels guilty
because she was told she'd always be
the good girl.
Though, its hard being the good girl when you don't have any windshield wipers for your tears at night.
But the tears at night aren't supposed to exist
because
I'm still mama's mother ******' good girl,
just...
please pretend I haven't gone bad.
I added to what was originally posted. I was having some technical issues and decided to just post what I had before, but this is the full poem (5/16/18)
 May 2018 N
b e mccomb
your car doesn't have
a cd player
which is a little unsettling
but i don't really mind

your hands remind
me of my dad's

i want to wear dresses
play taylor swift
spray myself in
citrusy perfume
and paint my eyelids
a shimmery pink

when i'm with you
i feel safe

i'm not convinced
that soulmates exist
but i am convinced that
we pick up people on
our way through life
and some of them just fit

some people are habit
can't remember a
time without them
and some people are the future
what could be instead of
what's always been

you're art in the foam on a cortado
you're a peach drenched in
heavy cream and limoncello
old overshirts and amaretto

you're champagne
and i'm the idiot
who intentionally
calls it "sham-pag-nee"

you can see through the
espresso stains on my
hands and arms right
down to freckles over scars

even if i slap myself to wipe
the pleasant look off my face
at the end of the day
you'll still think i'm cute

and when you say things
like that i start to feel all
gooey and underbaked
like a fallen cake with
cinnamon buttercream
melting down the sides
perfectly and
unabashedly flawed

i am selfish and afraid
and you don't seem to mind

so here's a toast to
letting someone new
into my life for
the first time
to allowing myself
to be vulnerable
and happy even if it
might be a mistake

because goodness knows
you're sweeter and softer
than i ever dreamed
someone could be
copyright 5/13/18 b. e. mccomb
 Dec 2017 N
Blossom
Daydreamer
 Dec 2017 N
Blossom
Breathe in
Space out
Speak soft  
Think loud
 Dec 2017 N
mk
i am sometimes
a fool, a miser
stubborn, hot-headed
indecisive, sometimes selfish
maybe a little mean

but

*i am not a liar
i will not betray you
and your secrets
are forever in my heart
hidden under my tongue
your pain and hunger
are in my pocket
wrapped up tight

your childhood
lives under my skin
your failures
tucked under my pillow
you are not vulnerable
except in my arms
and i will not leave
your body
in the cold or in
between their fingers

your trust
is in my faith
and my faith
is in your trust
when i kiss you
goodnight
i will not kiss
another
goodmorning
it is a simple
pact to myself-
it is you.
you are my
quiet;
not a secret
but not public.

i promise you this
when the moon
splits in half
and the oceans
fill it's cracks
when we are no
longer one
under the sun
when we are
no longer each
other's under
the sheets behind
closed doors
i promise you
this
you are still
safe in my
memories
buried in the sand
in the beach where
we had our
first "real" date
we will forever
be frozen
in the popcorn of
movies and
bathtubs
of cheap motels
i promise you
this
i will never
betray you
nor leave you
out in the open
i never lied to you
never forged
the words
nor meant
any harm.
i promise you
this
day or night
night or day
protected with
me
in my memory
you will
forever stay.
- i'm sorry if you don't believe me, and i'd be mad if i knew half the story too, but no matter how much we hurt (ourselves or each other), i will protect you with my mind, body, and soul. forever yours, somewhere in time. -
 Nov 2017 N
tumelo mogomotsi
frightening ways to end up in a coffin,
unexpected visits from the grim
reaper, holds you and i in
limbo, with the idea
that we take life for
granted too often

too pre occupied
moaping about the
past and sobbing about
what is to come. too afraid
to act on our dreams, only to regret
what was not said until our days are done


- t.m
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