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Savannah Dec 2020
she dabs with cheap tissue
to drain the pigment
from her once passionate lips
Savannah Dec 2020
the sun rose once again, gentle and soft
and yesterday spread its ashes on my floor
isn't it sad how you can sleep it off,
and still be as bad as before?
Savannah Dec 2020
I just tore up our old letters
and threw them on the floor
every guy since you
is just as bad as before
I spit on them, too
to make it completely clear
I want to really hate you
as much as it appears
I'm not even real
only half of me
I wish you knew how it feels
forgetting your masculinity
I live to be aestheticized
and I die when I'm not saved
I'm tired of being fetishized
for your sick savior charade
"fix me dear! i don't recall who i am without you! make me whole again!"
Savannah Dec 2020
I think I'm in love,

with a new face on my screen.

dear, is that naïve?
Savannah Nov 2020
to try and try to no avail to perfectly capture your youth in poetry,
so one day you'll look back, as gravity pulls your skin to the Earth,
and your hands are weathered by the sandpaper that is life.
that is fifteen.
fifteen is the massive responsibility to listen to all the best music
to enjoy the best art, to watch the best films, and to breathe the best air,
so that when your age doubles, and thirty hits,
you'll know that your adolescence wasn't wasted.
fifteen is living ever conscious of the stereotype;
knowing that you're more nuanced than the words of resentful adults,
but still succumbing to teenage meltdowns and nervous conversations with boys.
fifteen is furiously planning for a future years in the distance; tasting the freedom on the tip of my tongue, but knowing my head is just in the clouds.
fifteen is feeling like you're always being watched;
dissected, or admired, for the curls woven in your hair or the cuffs in your jeans;
convincing yourself your peers feelings fluctuate depending on your presentation.
fifteen is frantically searching for acceptance from those who have never heard your name;
mustering up the confidence to ask him for the homework,
or hoping the hot girl in the hallway thinks you're just as cool;
wearing your heart on your sleeve, in the chance someone wears the same brand.
fifteen is marrying your dream school before you've even taken a tour;
saying your vows to a man you've never met, and throwing a bouquet to the friends you know you'll love,
because nothing is more exciting than knowing one day, you'll start over and over and over again.
fifteen is now, the perfect present, the pinnacle of personhood.
fifteen is hoping I am not wasting my precious time.
fifteen is me figuring it all out, fearfully, yet faithfully.
Savannah Nov 2020
the same story repeated throughout history,
we have now become a cliché.
ambition clouding my rationality.
fantasies never feasible in reality.  
my friend, whenever I'm with you,
I'm reaching for an impossible possibility.
you know I've never wanted anything I could have
and I know you've never gotten the one thing you want.
we were never made to succeed;
just to entertain the thought.
Savannah Nov 2020
an aching sensation tears at my stomach.
craving for the feelings of the foreign.
wanderlust is in my nature,
and curiosity creates a cavity in my mind.
a gaping hole of everything I ever wanted,
all it ever was, was simply just to see.
see what the cobblestone streets felt like beneath me,
or what the cathedrals in Europe look like in reality.
I want to wander hearts, souls, and minds
speak beautiful, real, life changing poetry;
the kind you find in a used bookstore, accidentally.
I want to feel my fingers on another's skin.
I have forgotten intimacy, and I beg to recall.
breathing the same air, lovely words spoken carefully;
I pray love is a path I can find presently.
I bargain to a silent God, I beg to know what its like;
to love Him, to volunteer to take His hand.
in all honesty, I'm afraid of divine complexity.
I have a hard time loving passionately already,
affection for Him isn't in my capacity.
I plead, and I plead, and I plead
my life won't be defined by simplicity.
I know success should be measured by joy.
but it feels like there's nothing satisfying in being happy.
I want grandeur, and I want passion,
intelligence, politics, and artistry.
If greatness isn't intertwined in my destiny,
I would rather not be destined entirely.
the impatience of youth & wanting what you can't have
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