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Mimi Hachiko Jul 9
You’ve given no reason
For me to feel this way
But all reasons aside
You’re such a cliché
The cheerleader type
You run and you play
But I remember a time
Your type would betray
Your voice pitch is high
Your IQ count can’t match
I really can’t see why
You’re considered a catch
But maybe I’m petty
Or jealous, or insecure
I think I’m just ready
To be called particular
I don’t like your type
I don’t fancy to be friends
I don’t follow the hype
You give me the bends
gracie Jan 22
i.
the tall, brown-eyed
scholar with tousled hair and 
endless supply of sarcastic comments; 
stolen sweaters and car rides and
cartoons. sipping hot cocoa
out of Star Wars mugs, study dates, 
playing hide and seek 
in Walmart, hugs that 
almost 
made me feel whole

first heartbreak
******* in his passenger seat because 
he "needed it”;
a lonely winter learning 
he did not love me and 
a season spent intertwined 
with a boy who could not 
fill the void in my chest.

ii.
golden hair, ocean eyes,
sunkissed skin and downtown flea markets.
threading my fingers between his
sharing our poems over skype
and 
iced coffee and patched denim and 
fresh yellow flowers stashed in my locker.
hugging in the hallway,
silly love notes and soft smiles and 
laughing so hard my ribs hurt.
a sensation of warmth that could rival 
pure sunshine

unopened texts
a subtle disconnection
i held his heart in my palm and
let it slip
harsh
unimportant
i still carry the guilt in my fingertips

iii.
overalls. shoulder-length hair, i 
fell in love with the way he said my name
strange, unrecognizable on his lips, ringing
each syllable like a pink-petal
prayer.
a thrift store parking lot, draped 
across his lap, one hand in my hair, 
the other around my heart;
stolen kisses at stoplights. shivering and 
holding each other so closely
i thought 
we might never unravel

disintegrating. distance withering away 
my heartstrings; familiar pain and
longing to be held
bitter tears and night air
stroking my hair
in place of the way
his hands made me
Ache.
an old poem. the loneliness comes and goes;
poem format inspired by haley
Racquel Davis Jul 2014
The Second Book*
Forms of Pain*

Losing yourself to distress,

Forgetting your own birthday,

Unrequited love,

The beauty of your rival,

Plans on a rainy day,

Vinegar on wounded skin,

Saying ‘goodbye’ again,

Roadblocks with no detour

©Copyright 2014 Written and Edited by Racquel Davis
Fashioned after the collection of works done by the famous Chinese Princess.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pillow_Book
Arisa Mar 2
Be not the Clown,
But the Joker.
Don't wear the pendant,
Wear the choker.

Please, take your time,
But only if you hurry.
However, do not stress,
Unless I tell you to worry.

**** yourself,
But **** me first.
Believe in fortune,
Believe you're cursed.

Look good in white,
Look great in black.
Come here tomorrow,
and never come back.

Vote one way and please vote the other.
Hate your rival, yet love their mother.
Take down notes and burn them all away,
Collect the ashes and do your chores for the day.

You gotta be smarter,
But you better be dumb.
Play the violin,
But bang the drum.

And the most important thing of all
Is to never take anyone's advice EVER.
- Because everyone on God's green Earth
Think they're so **** clever.
A whimsical poem I made when I turned 16.
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