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You said
"I'm not hollow simply scarce and soundproof. Double jointed at the valves and cured of retched emotions."

But your sensory was superb
Your touch lingered in all of it's lacking purities
It mapped out the freckles lining my lips
A map you traced too often upon the bodies of far too many what's her faces hips

Yet you always came back to devour more

Understanding your underlying intentions became irrelevant and obscured
To count the conflicting answers
which were fed in heaps of sugar lined words
would drown me in irrationality and bitter conformity

And when your ghost is the only thing left to banter to as you smile upon the great unknowns
I'll smother the context of my emotions beneath the cages of my ribs
And walk towards the bare, unhinged moon with no remorse left to speak of
Leaving only salted words for you to inhale into your lungs

(C) Tiffanie Doro
The Rhyming Shuffle

Feeling all alone,
life is on postpone.
No one seems to care,
time is now to beware.
Stick me with a fork,
in my *** is a scented cork.
Farts smelling like a rose,
watching bodies decompose.
Climbing up Jacob's ladder,
peeing a lot cause of my bladder.
Calling me an Uncle Tom,
shaving my hairy palm.
Addicted to Candy Crush,
brain turning into mush.
Tired of always snapping,
I deserve some ***** slapping.
Grass is always greener,
with the little old lady from Pasadena.
On board the love boat,
left me with a sore throat.
Saving money is impossible,
spending is just unstoppable.
Writing rhymes is all I know,
all my ducts are in a row.
Going fishing without a pole,
one to many hits from my bowl.
Dying of old age,
took my final bow,
on the center stage.
 Sep 2013 Selena Irulan
Elise
Your words have left me hopeful once again,
they seep into the cracks between each of my bones,
entering my bloodstream, through my veins,
creating a euphoric feeling I can't seem to shake.
My love for you grows each day,
I'll never leave your side,
I'll be here until the day I die,
I feel the weight of this beneath my ribs,
but I love the ache, it keeps me going,
it reminds me that you're here on this earth,
whether or not you are mine,
you make every day more beautiful,
your existence takes my breath away.
 Sep 2013 Selena Irulan
J
Trying on my sister’s makeup at six years old,
Seemed like the coolest thing,
Using all sorts of crayons for your eyes in different colors,
Like the ones included in my $1.75 coloring book,
I was trying to be beautiful,
But I knew I didn’t need it,
Using mascara on my hair,
Using extensions to make my hair longer,
Using blush as eye shadow,
Drawing on red cheeks with lipstick,
Taking her size B bra and stuffing it with toilet paper,
Trying on heels because I want to be taller,
Putting on a dress and finally be able to fill it out with my stuffed bra,
I thought I was beautiful,
Even though I probably looked like a carnival clown,
10 years later,
I know how to use makeup,
I use mascara on my eyelashes,
I use eyeliner for my eyes,
I use blush for my cheeks,
I use lipstick for my lips,
I have a double D bra and fill it without toilet paper,
I own heels but I can’t wear them because I am too tall,
I have hair to my waist,
I’m still trying to be beautiful,
But I now won’t show my face without makeup,
I wear a mask hoping someone will remove it,
To tell me I don’t need it,
But they don’t because I do,
Because in my eyes,
I still look like a carnival clown.
Seven ruler-straight
horizontal lines
Two solidly thicker
vertical lines connect
those to the
palm of my hand
And one in the shape
of a hot, bent, metal stick
almost hiding in my
arm's crease.
They look so soft now
but I remember when
each one of them was
ragged and ******
and I was crying out
for someone to help me.
I never left without my sweatshirt,
I tried to blame it on the cat
because I couldn't explain to anybody
my reasons for harming myself,
you can't just
describe your demons
that easily.

These scars are a map,
a storybook on my body
of the time I needed so badly
for somebody to hold me.
When nobody came with a rag
to soak up the blood I was
trying to get out of me
I realized that
I was either going to have to
learn to love myself
or let myself die right there.

I am happy to have these scars
for they mean that I chose the former,
escaped that dismal ending
I had chosen for myself.
They prove to me
that if I can come from the edge of death
to the person I am today
there's no reason
that I can't do anything else.
this is an idea that I really want to write about, but this poem needs a lot of work. any comments/criticism/suggestions are welcome!
You, in this world...
Every time,..  Any time...
Eyes find time,.. For You.

How You were made...
The way You are,..
Intentionally flawed.

                                A Broken Mould, Post Perfection.

As lovely as You,..
Your imperfections,..
Here they are,... Beautiful.
They fit,... They compliment.

                               A Broken Mould, Post Perfection.

Even at distance,.. I fall...
Each time,.. Every time,...
For the way You can be...

Broken,..
                Perfect to Me.
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