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Covering my battered soul with a grin,
And I carry my longing to meet you soon in my spirits,
Maybe you'd heal my scars with your touch,
No, the timing have to match,
Yes, I have to wait,
If it means confronting the bruises on my body of someone's hate,
You will come won't you?
It's the least thing I expect life to do,
Granting the exemption,
To reach the day of explanation,
Yet here I wait for my closure,
What's that you ask?
My death, My life's dusk.
That it will come never again is what makes life so sweet.
-Emily Dickinson
nance Apr 16
The wind was tentatively nipping at my skin.
during the car ride in sunny California.
My hand hung outside the window,
which held the ring that I gazed upon;
along with the semi-colon that is inked
upon my wrist.
The scenery changed behind my hand,
but my eyes did not set on anything
besides my hand in the wind of the window.
Until we pulled in.
I looked up and saw the eyes that stared upon me.
Drinking water.
I looked away quickly, focusing my eyes on my hand.
I felt the stare.
I felt yeux.
I glanced and then saw the car drive away.
I tried to keep it in afterward.
The small bit of confrontation after a year.
The recognition.
I let out a sound-
it was between a scream and a choke-
with a word following after to cover up.
The car halted to stop,
the driver asking me
what the hell is wrong.
I stayed silent.
I acted so stupidly.
If I was right-
though it was only a glance-
those eyes were not yours.
They were chocolate,
warm enough to melt someone;
sturdy enough to break with pressure.
Although, yours were an ocean that
could be calm enough to let me
bathe in, to swim in, and to let me
become adjusted in security:
but chaotic enough to swallow me whole;
bang me up against the tide and leave me
breathless.
Inviting, captivating, dangerous, *****.
lovely.
But it looked like you...
did it not?
Was I seeing you for you and I imagined
those eyes the wrong color.
or was it an illusion made by my mind
after working in the sun for a while?
I won't know.
I don't know.
I can't know.
Was it you?
It's 10:00 pm.
I should go to bed.
I have class then work.
I should just forget.
In the moonlight that seeps
into my window for my
room to be illuminated,
I stare.
I stare at my hand upon the ring.
That shines along with the
the mystery of the boy
who made me scream.
Was it you?
Please tell me, I murmur,
for the man in the moon.
True story.
My worst story on here.
No wonder no one sees my poems.
Jade Apr 6
I bite rabbit holes
into my tongue
before my confrontations
have the opportunity
to race past my teeth
and infuriate your
superiority complex
upon impact.

These confrontations
stick to the roof of my mouth
like burned marshmallows
dandruffed in black shavings
that taste of regret and fire

(I swallow them anyway).

Turns out
I was so preoccupied with
these suppressed campfire stories
that I did not notice
when my own lips caught flame,
kindled by all the words.
I've never had the courage to speak aloud.

Of course,
things are different now.
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

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I'm devastated
That you were just an excuse
I was used
As were you

I always knew you were never real
We were just two girls, playing pretend
Sending loveless souls
Across the code
But I loved you
In some perverted way, I loved you

You ****** me up
And by that I mean
I ****** me up
You were my image
My northern star
When you were gone
I was willfully lost
Decided it was time
To destroy it all

We played our game
For far too long
Letting go was a relief
An excuse to be
The ****** up kid
I'd always dreamed of
Back when my dreams weren't nightmares
And my nightmare wasn't my reality

It wouldn't be fair to say you broke me
You didn't
You chose me
Just as I chose you
My perfect self destruction
And like him later on
We were a force together
We tore holes together
We were the people
You don't write home about together

In the end
We were just kids
I can't say I regret this
I don't know what to say
Except that I meant it
There was a piece of paper that I had, it probably got recycled back when my room was purged in January. It had a border of highlighter flowers. I showed it to my two friends at school and they knew it was about you.
I wonder what it said. I don't remember anymore.
--
I wrote this with meaning and feeling, but now they're just empty words, just like these will be. I wish it wasn't like this.
Philomena Aug 2019
I'll be the first one to admit that you make me uneasy
Not for a lack of feelings or presence of some
But simply because you are the living embodiment of my past
And I hate confrontation
So when I see you there
Behind a metal bar round and round
Like a pool noodle in a blender
My heart stops
But alas to day is the day I find the strength to stand
Not up to you or against you but stand on my own
Philomena May 2019
I suppose I should be honest
I am confused

One minutes i'm ****** that you won't even say Hi
And the next I understand because I don't know how to face you

So I suppose I'm sorry
Sorry because there is no easy way to do this
I'm really sorry
A Simillacrum Oct 2018
Spin it one more time,
your story is so involving,
I
couldn't
have heard
right.

Repeat it for me,
please.

That's what I thought.

Any other day,
I'd not
say anything,
pretend I
buy your *******.
Today, I can't let it go.

I never ask.
You volunteer.
That
makes
the lying
worse.

Bother someone else,
you ******* *****.
nosipho khanyile Jul 2018
I looked at society in the eye
and asked her
why she's so flawed.

she glared at me before saying that

I cannot antagonize her
when all she did was
give identity to a lost world
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