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Poems

Rebecca Shain Aug 2015
Bubblegum flavored tequila and bubblegum flavored kisses.
Drink up. Drink more.
My friend and I sat giggling on the bed across from two wolves, their fangs hidden behind blue lipped smiles.
Have another sip, the bottle is nearly empty.

My friend leaves me, and the wolf makes a gesture to his friend to follow.

I am left alone.

Blue lips kissing blue lips,
blue on my neck,
blue on my stomach,

Take these off he says,
it will be more comfortable he says.

The room is spinning and all I can see is an empty bottle of blue bubblegum flavored tequila on the floor,
And blue bite marks down my legs,
And I'm struggling to fight off his hands as my ******* are torn off,
And I am wearing a blue bra that's wires are piercing into my chest,
And inside my chest I can feel my heart pounding,
And my ribs are not protecting the pain in my heart,

I can hear my friend outside the door,
she's on the phone to a boy,
I am calling out to her but she cant hear because his paw is muffling my scream.

Just a little bit he says,
I force a blue lipped bubblegum smile and shake my head.
Do not ******* this wolf.

I manage to kick him off but I cant find my clothes.

The next morning I wake up with a bubblegum flavored tequila hang over, and blue bruises.

"Its okay though, it could have been worse."
Ayisha R  Nov 2020
Bubblegum.
Ayisha R Nov 2020
I am a bubblegum
that has lost its taste.
I came in pinkish-turquoise
irresistibly innocent packaging.

I was unwrapped by you.
Chewed up by the muscles in your mouth.
Savoured by your taste buds.

Once.

I was sweet.
Sometimes too sweet,
and sugary-high
for your impulsive liking.

Popsicles.
Apple pops.

Now I am a pale-pink
-coloured bubblegum.
I am a bubblegum
that has lost its taste.

I am the bubblegum
that you stick underneath your desk.
The bubblegum that you
frequently-accidentally,
or coincidentally,
brushed your bare knees upon.

I am the bubblegum
that is hidden,
and hardened.

How I wished
you would just spit me
onto the ground.

Let them walk upon me.

How I wished
you would just spit me
onto the crumpled worn-out wrapper.

Wrap me,
and throw me
into the ******* bin.

Let them recycle me.

But instead,
you keep me glued
underneath your desk,
along with other bubblegum
that have lost their tastes.

Hidden.
Hardened.

Sometimes,
you miss my taste.

Just like how I miss
your gliding tongue
—against me.

Hardened.
Hidden.

Somebody,
scrap me.

🍬
© Ayisha Rahman, written circa 2014
Mike Hauser Jun 2015
Could there be such a thing

As bubblegum poetry

And if there is

When you chew it

Do you read it and savour

The bubblegum flavor

Or is what you just read

Over too fast

Does it blow bubbles of thought

In your head more than not

And does it come sugar free

For no guilt when you read

Close cousin to a bubblegum song

Where you can't help but hum along

I personally think that it would be sweet

If there was such a thing as bubblegum poetry