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The little thing's I do not share,
the little things I keep inside.

To hear you sing to your car radio,
to hear your passion,
to watch you drive.
As the lights of the rode caress your face,
I see your eyes flicker to me,
and you make a sidewise smile as you notice my gaze.

I study you,
like I do the **** models I draw for hours on end.
Memorizing every curve,
every dip,
every line.

When you tell me you love me you don't just with your lips,
but with your eyes,
with your body,
with your sole.

I feel as we are intertwined under the covers our sole are somehow combined.
Like hydrogen and oxygen we create life,
like potassium permanganate and glycerol we ignite
like Potassium Chlorate and Sulfur we explode into a show so stunning it lights up the faces of everyone around us.

Your kiss,
when the world is swirling around us and I make myself sick with worry,
you can make it stop.
You hold my face in my hands and keep everything else out,
if just for a second,
we're alone.

When you look at me with the saddest eye to ever grace this Earth,
I do not wonder why you worry,
but I wonder what would ever make you think I would leave,
I could leave.
Yet sometimes I worry the same.

You,
with all of your love.

You,
with all of your flaws.

You sometimes forget how to "relationship,"
but you never forget me.

You,
you hit walls when your angry,
but I will always be here to bandage your wounds.

You,
sometimes can't vocalise everything you mean properly,
but you don't need to,
because I know,
and I feel it too.

You,
run off and get yourself in so much trouble,
but I keep you in line,
and you teach me how to step outside them sometimes.

These little thing I take note of and never share,
I wonder what little things you keep of me.
Just another cheesy love poem written in the odd hours of the morning.
There are days where I still feel guilt,
for letting my loyalty slip.

For falling,
away from you,
and for him.

These days I look at old photos of us,
and I realize,
I do not love you.
I look and I see someone who cared for me,
who looked after me,
who I spent a year and a half with,
but whom I no longer love.

I know that there was a time where I loved you,
where no one could make me smile quite like you.
No one could make me feel so comfortable,
and no one else occupied my dreams.

We, do not work.

We are too different and you are too controlling.
I would talk about my passions to you and your eyes would glaze over.
I would listen to music with you, but when you sang the words,
there was no fervor.
I would make a joke, and you would be offended.
You would make a joke,
and I would laugh,
even if it wasn't funny.

You would proclaim your love to me in any in every way possible.
In public,
in private,
and I felt secure.
Secure that you would never leave me,
but not that I would never leave you.

You would blame me for all of our problems,
but never out right.
You would make me feel like **** about have a disorder I could not control,
but you would do it with words of love.
You blinded me from all I wanted to accomplish,
cradled me with indifference,
suffocated me with safety.

I slipped,
I fell,
and I could not control it.
When a boy came up to me and fixed my clipped wings,
flew beside me instead of tying me down,
gave me freedom and love and hope.
I fell,
I flew,
I left.
As a child I was taught poetry
the quiet writing of feelings reflections
often in a beat with a rhyme and a few examples of alliteration

I was taught that as a woman my feelings
should be hid and kept quiet
that when I liked a boy it was not my place
to ask him whether he liked me back
I was taught to look out for myself by not dressing slutty
not walking home late at night
I was taught that my curvy figure would make people
question my morals my virginity my character
I was taught that as a girl I won't be as successful in math or science
I was taught to give myself to other pursuits
in liberal arts or domestic dealings
I was taught that even if by some miracle I found success in the fields where I "wouldn't be successful"
that I would and should give it up in a heart beat to raise a family
I was taught that I must share my feelings
my emotions my struggles
but not in a loud and open way

I had to remain quiet cool composed

Poetry was to be my outlet, written in couplets sonnets and verse
quiet and held inside written on paper
stored away from the world
to be read inside the mind
by others- men, teachers, parents
in order to decode me
and learn how to
keep
me

silent
This is meant to be read aloud/ performed as spoken word. I'm also working on the "sister" poem to this one.
 Dec 2013 Roisin Sullivan
Md HUDA
I seized a colorful pigeon on my palm
And I started to engrave the story of our love in its feathers
It flew away to orate our love
And in the night I met him in my dream
He was dead, and said “This is how the society deals with love
 Dec 2013 Roisin Sullivan
mal
i remember when you came over for the first time
you said we couldn't go to your apartment
because your tv was broken
i was nervous because it was the first time i'd had a boy over
and even though it doesn't mean a lot
being next to you made everything a little more okay
once you told me i was "the most
intellectually stimulating person you know"
but on the days im too tired to be intelligent
im terrified you will like me less
the first time we were on my couch
you reached for my hand  
but i was too oblivious to understand the gesture
and didn't reach back
and even though i blame it on being naive
i know it's because im anxious that you actually like me back
and im scared shitless that you'll get bored of me
the first time i realized how often you blink
was the same day you told me my eyes are always bloodshot
and if eyes are really the window to someone's soul
it makes sense that you're always hiding yours
and mine are always bleeding
and i know it's not worth much  
but the first time you put your arm around me
was the first time i felt sincerely comfortable with myself
and thinking about your lips on mine
still gives me goosebumps
and i know feelings are transient just like everything else
but your laughter is my favorite thing about being awake
and i know me liking you can't make you like yourself
but i will try
god, i will try
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