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Caroline Feb 13
He was French,
And Moroccan,
“Pieds noir” they called him
In the streets of Toulouse,
“Black feet.”
The French can be crass like that,
But when he walked shyly over to where I sat,
I only noticed his eyes, like two warm cups of dark coffee,
And I wanted to take a sip.
The way he couldn’t speak English,
And so I tripped through my burgeoning fluency
In French, tinged with that accent so prominent in the south;
Endings of words extended, emphasized with a flippant
Toss of the head, like
“T’es tres mignonne, toi.
Tu veux aller te promener avec moi?”
Yeah, I blushed at that one and took his hand,
Yes, yes, I said, I would walk the streets and these
Endless sands of this fairy tale Mediterranean Eden
With you.
Down by the waters of Languedoc he told me,
“When you are not here, tu me manques,”
And later, holding my hands in an Algerian restaurant,
He finally said “je t’aime.”
And so, I decided I would give it all to him,
In the depths of the night near the river,
Garonne.
I gave this French boy with mahogany eyes,
The gift of my first time,
And I haven’t a single regret.
A true story of a magical spring and summer in France when I was just nineteen. I knew I would never see him again and I never did, but that hasn't dampened the magic of the memory.

Translations:
"T'es tres mignonne, toi. Tu veux aller to promener avec moi": You are very cute/sweet. Do you want to take a walk with me?

Tu me manques: I miss you.

Je t'aime: I love you.
Out
By the way

let me just say
I wake up every day
hopping i am that guy
that guy you can rely

But im glad I'm not
you left this to rot
made me feel like trash
finally out of your lash

It's a new day
and I wake up every day
thanking im not that guy
Its been a while since i wrote anything
lucav Nov 2018
reputable stigmata staining my hands like ink and bleeding through the paper back book of a story
on chapter fifteen
each word is made of blood
each page is just tears
writing out all of my deepest fears
fifteen she screams at the top of her lungs
the year when she refused to eat her birthday cake
afraid to gain back that weight
the year she sat in the back of the cop car
trying to run from home
the year her anorexia poked through the seams in her jeans
cutting and dicing her skin like elastic
stretching her mind out just like plastic
shes not a plastic toy
shes more like glass that cracked
ugh
Leslie Thielen Nov 2018
the realization overtook the delusion
not overnight, not like a light switch
but like a gradual suffocation,
liquid black spilling in
it’s a futile gasp for tainted air

i am the anti-hero of my own autobiography
the protagonist that gains nothing
and by the end of the 400-page novel
the reader understands, they’ve wasted their time

because the story was never about me to begin with
all wrapped up superficially in a soft cocoon
immersed in a pseudo-nobility that shielded me
and convinced me that there is a right answer
to every wrong thing

one of the most painful and crippling experiences
is forcing yourself to unlearn everything you thought you knew
and resigning yourself to the fact that
not everything makes sense
not everyone gets a happy ending–

and there’s beauty in nature, but devastation in ours
serendipity in our structure, but chaos in our hearts
nothing deals in absolutes, and pain does not subside
we hide behind small comforts, but these are often lies

humans aren’t built in black and white, so i’m drowning in the gray
flailing and failing to understand why certain people cannot stay
over two decades on this planet and i’m still trying to decide
if the tragedy is hiding elsewhere or somewhere trapped inside.
i just want answers
carlos varela Oct 2018
Flying Out
Climbing through stars
Now that I'm here, this far out
Can't seem to be knocked down

Don't want to climb down
When its you that you're higher
So high lights drown
I guess, I didn't grow any wiser
This is my first poem don't be afraid to give some feedback
BR Oct 2018
I am sixteen, ⁣
walking down winnie in the middle of summer⁣
heat waving thick fingers in the air, taunting ⁣
I am wearing sweatpants and a hoodie ⁣
all my layers of self and self defeating comfort eating are not enough to cover me ⁣
I have the hood pulled over my hair ⁣
*****, too short, uncared for⁣

I am carrying a novel, something cheap and badly written ⁣
a friend from school passes by me, waves, I turn away ⁣
pretend I don't see them ⁣
I stuff my hands in the soft pockets, grab a handful of hip meat, it feels like that scene in Lord of the Rings where juice runs down the chin of a false king⁣


I wear anxiety heavy around my face, I don't recognize myself without it⁣
but depression is not a word I can touch⁣
it doesn't fit me ⁣
it doesn't belong in my charismatic vocabulary ⁣
I don't know that I am drowning ⁣

wet mouth smacking and finger tapping make me feel like my mind is an experimental horror film ⁣
how are small sounds so loud? ⁣
how do they crawl into my ear canal like an animorph alien? ⁣
I was always so afraid of those books ⁣
and the sounds outside of our tent when my brother read them to me ⁣
I am so afraid of everything ⁣

I am sixteen ⁣
It's 98 degrees outside ⁣
and I am walking down the street in three layers of winter gear ⁣
and fear ⁣
and self hatred ⁣
and I cannot identify it ⁣
I don't know that I will be beautiful ⁣
I don't know that I already am ⁣
I don't know that my hands will pick wildflowers out of words ⁣
and that my life will be a practice of arranging bouquets for kitchen tables ⁣
I don't know that my hair will be long and easy to twirl around one finger, without thinking about the action ⁣
actions won't always feel like eyes watching me in and of themselves ⁣

I don't know that I will pull on jeans without thinking about the way they don't lay flat against me ⁣
I don't know that curves can be custard on the tip of a finger, sweet and nostalgic tapioca, ⁣
gritty and dimpled and perfect for sundays⁣
and mine and plenty ⁣
and pretty ⁣

I don't know that I will be beautiful ⁣
I don't know that I already am ⁣

Sin Sep 2018
BFF
We were five years old full of laughter and joy

We thought nothing could touch us

Invincible as we ran through the field at recess
We swore we were the
Fastest
The quickest

We grew up together?
No.
we grew apart together.

held hands with my best friends
In 6th grade
Making a pact that neither of us would do drugs

But it's three in the morning
And I'm smoking my second bowl at the beach.

Traded my Capri sun for a cup of lean

We run from the cops because we still swear we're the
Fastest

The quickest

We still think we're untouchable

Even as we walk through these halls sleep deprived

Nobody knows what happened last night

We wish we didn't know what happened that night

We refuse to acknowledge the events of that night

We won't even manage to look at each other in the eye

When they ask who's at fault
We repeat
Not I
Not I

So what does this mean for us?

Is this what we were so excited for?
Is this the moment we were so impatient for?

I couldn't wait to grow up

Now we're in the bathroom throwing up

These drugs we refuse to give up

I'm lost in a life that I was not prepared for

It's not like I didn't have a plan

In fact,

We had a plan

V was going to be a teacher
J was was going to be a fire fighter
N was going to be a power ranger
don't know how but we were five and everything seemed possible

And I
well
I wanted to change the world

But you know things happen

People change

V is having a baby
J is moving dope
N is six feet under

And I?
Well,
I'm trying really hard to keep it together

after that night we were just not the same

We lost ourselves
Just not the memory of that night
Unfortunately

Some parts I remember more  vividly

My skin feels *****
Just remembering

I know you felt guilty
And I have to admit that
For a long time
I hated all of you

But never as much as I hated myself
For losing control

For not finding the words to say
No

For thinking that maybe,

That maybe if I drank enough
I could drown the voices in my head telling me to **** myself

I wasn't satisfied with my life
I'm still not satisfied with my life
No matter how much alcohol I drink
No matter how much I fill my lungs with smoke
It won't ever fill this empty void.

Everyone was laughing and dancing downstairs.

But I felt sick.

He said he would help me feel better.

He was my friend.

My body felt heavy I just wanted to lie down.

I could smell the tequila on his breath as he whispered

"Trust me".

I closed my eyes in hopes that he would stop.

He said
"Don't worry, I've done this before"

My voice was gone
I stayed there in silence

He left to the bathroom
I left his bedroom
Stumbling
Crying

He almost got what he wanted
And nobody helped me

Instead,
We tried pretending that nothing had happened

We all blamed each other

Best friends forever
But
No longer together

I'm done pretending that nothing happened
I'm done making up excuses as to why I freeze up when I'm touched at times
I'm done staying quiet

But I want you to know that
I'm done being angry
It wasn't your fault
I shouldn't have blamed you

And despite everything,
I forgive him too.

I remember back when were five years old full of laughter and joy

We thought nothing could ever touch us.

Back when we were

invincible.
Namita Anna Givi Sep 2018
First War of 2010

There was something wrong
Of that I was sure all along.
Not cause I liked Wii more than dolls
Was something far deeper than those.

Three dates with him and no sparks flew
But a glance from her-Oh! I just knew.
Longings of the heart, the unfamiliar racings
Why to her when it should be for him?

Monster of guilt is stabbing the last of my peace.
Meeting her glance is tearing my soul by piece.
The mind knows better-the right from wrongs
Only the heart knows to whom it truly belongs.

The violent war wages between heart and mind,
Will the anguish of the way be worth the find?
But to be me, if this cross I should forever bear,
I still choose my heart over mind to care.

I choose ME until the end.
This is a series poem with the title 'A War For Pride'.
The first series, 'First War of 2010' is about a girl realizing and accepting her sexuality.
Amarys Dejai Jul 2018
I often wish that I was still a child.
So many things change when we grow up.
Innocence becomes lost,
days become shorter,
the nighttime still scares me,
playing house becomes a game of survival,
boys become men, men become frightening,
I become sad, worried, anxious, and self-aware,
friends will lose their half of the necklace or their friendship ring,
being loved by someone will determine my worth,
I no longer feel small next to the kitchen counter,
but in the presence of everyone around me,
“Forever” loses its meaning,
everyone will eventually leave,
death is no longer a myth,
I will not smile as often as I did,
I will not cry as little as I did,
I will not feel safe in school anymore,
I will not go outside and play anymore,
I will try and pick the imperfections off of
my skin until it is red and bleeding,
**** in my stomach whenever I walk,
work myself into exhaustion,
feel overwhelmed by every task,
have anxiety attacks in public places,
and wish that I was a child again.
RV Jul 2018
Wash
                                                  "I will"
Change your underwear
                                                  "I have"
Be grateful
                                                  "I am"
OK, then
I love you
                                                  "I love you, too"
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