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 Dec 2014 matt
Girl On The Wing
My small hips
Unfeminine
My height
Unfeminine
My broad shoulders
Unfeminine
My blonde, short eyelashes
Unfeminine
My straight legs
Unfeminine

my strength
Unfeminine
my intelligence
Unfeminine
my strong voice
Unfeminine
 Dec 2014 matt
Thenay Cora
Love
 Dec 2014 matt
Thenay Cora
Loving her
was like
  kneeling
in front of
a stone
and praying
for it
to come
to life.
 Dec 2014 matt
Anthony Caceres
Lust
 Dec 2014 matt
Anthony Caceres
Thats all you are,
From your hair to your hips
It makes me want to do flips

These demons make me not care
These demons make me...
want to tear your clothes apart
Something about your smile
Something about your legs
Its like your stacking pegs
Getting no where
because caring is something
that isn't their


I love the way you look at me when were done
I love the way your body looks when your on top
I love the way you look
I love the way
I love the
I love
No!
I lust
 Dec 2014 matt
Molly
His Jacket
 Dec 2014 matt
Molly
He gave me his
jacket
and it smelled like
him and smoke
and I knew why
but I wore it anyway.

The day he
disappeared
it was cold outside so
I wore his jacket
and
wiped my nose on the sleeves.

We got the call from the
psych ward
three days later and I couldn't
see him
or
hold him
so I buried my face in his jacket
even though it smelled like smoke
and I knew why.

I kept it
stuffed in the corner between
the wall and my bed
so on the nights when I
missed him too much to sleep
I could wrap myself in it
even though
it didn't smell like him anymore.

When he came back
a month later
and I saw him in
a crowded hallway
he looked at me and
smiled
when he noticed I was wearing
his jacket
and he
hugged me
so it smelled like him again.

I still
wear his jacket
when I can't sleep at night.
 Nov 2014 matt
Tanya Chaudhary
I wanted to write today.
My fingers itched.
My head pained.
Words were not coming.
In my heart. In my brain.
Felt uncomfortable
by this strain.
Have I stopped loving him?
Is it a writer's block?
tick
tock
tick
tock
tick
tock
....
blank page in front of me.
The poet is the clock.
 Nov 2014 matt
Jackeline Chacon
Dreaming of walking model thin
Unaware she's bones and skin

She lives in a damaged brain
Drowned from her vomiting pain

Her insecurity torn up her mind
Left her bulimic and mentally blind

Always hugging her toilet beside
Half dead from purging her soul inside

Crying because her ugly reflection
She won't give up until she's perfection
 Nov 2014 matt
Towela Kams
I won't allow you
To question me
On old, broken mirrors
And old, shattered dreams
I won't let you see me
Based solely
On what the world did to me
Through the eyes of self-pity
So to answer your questions
Yes, I'm doing just fine
With all that has happened
I found a way to survive
Not by myself though,
I can't stand here and lie
I had some extra help
Something divine
I haven't written in such a while. I feel like my poetry is somehow loosing value. I don't know what to write about but these words came to my mind in a split second.
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