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Lila Platt Nov 2019
she stares at the pages in front of her face
funny to think a few sheets of paper determines her place
her self-worth molded my that single number
exhausted from the stress, all she wants is to slumber
she taps the pencil against her chin
every student watching her, but this time she doesn’t grin
she feels the pressure, the stares, the looks
if her grade’s not over ninety, what’s the point of the books?
she tries so hard not to crack
with thoughts running fast on a race-track
she goes to bed with tears in her eyes
not knowing what the next day will bring when she’ll arise
...and do it all again.
true story bros
Brittany Wynn Mar 2015
I should’ve known the way you warmed your palms
against my back that you would kiss me, but at least your trembling
lips covered the hesitancy of mine, tortured into timidity
by the guy who pushed himself into me demanding
that I like it. You touched me with a reverence I didn’t deserve
as I remained tangled in reservations of certain caresses, positions,
and the possible suggestion of *** in my bed. You nestled your chin

in the curve of my neck instead and while you slept on the prospect
of contentment, I cried for trust you would expect from me, a wrecked
reject **** victim who believed that maybe she was a tease who would continue to displease any man willing to lay her. I made you leave
when I saw the sun’s rays, but relief didn’t stay behind.

— The End —