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Nigdaw Dec 2021
somewhere there's a party
you're not invited to
but the little red dress
will gate-crash the venue
desperately trying to cover
more than it reveals
it will have a better time
than ever you can imagine
until disappointment reveals
it clothes a mere mortal
not some Hellenic goddess
a mirage of alcohol
a signal of distress
somewhere there's a party
you shouldn't be invited to
full of danger, anguish
and an end to innocence
Dianali Dec 2021
I took care of it,
I wore it, - but just -on special occasions
No matter how little,
I cleaned every stain of it
I packed it so carefully
That I forgot I even had it.
Then the flood came,
And the mould grew,
I found it in my suitcase
Completely ruined.
And then I remembered
Why it was so special
I wore it the first night
I ever met you
Raven Feels Nov 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, October 23:>

bribed the day light to catch me
to welcome the dark night quickly
careful heels
afraid would sting would peel
to the rough ground's coldness
wore this covering black dress
walked on a damaged fate
all in the name of an elegant slate
silent walls no comment
a posture to the moon sent

the perfect hair scattered
my own self compliments flattered
alone for the mirror to be impressed
smiled and the reflection takes a guess
waved for the air
to feel attention somewhere
on that eye
smudged ink lines
vanilla hangs in the atmosphere
memories do nothing to fear

                                                           ­         --------ravenfeels
JKirin Sep 2021
I never knew love before seeing him—
a beauty under the southern night sky—
as he danced, his strong body pliant and slim,
to the tunes of a distant guitar.

I never knew love before seeing him
with his heels on the pavement click-clacking.
As he flares his dress, goes to a spin,
with a rose in his hair – he is striking.

Each step, each clap – I am at his mercy.
Each beat, each dance – he is all I can see.
I'm lost, I'm in love, I'm down on my knee –
each time I pray that he also sees me.
about falling in love with a queer gypsy flamenco dancer
Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, wasn't a midnight this time:)

in a brilliant black dress
just like hers better the darker I guess
but she was an actress on a stage
wings with no limit or a cage

the lighter lights older violent notes
roses bleed the blood in red quotes
like perfect poem lines
played like a movie tape upon eyes

pink stars in permanent
seen when fell of the argument
talk some sense into the ceiling
on a page of eternal with no feeling

not the best of all the endings
some bones of broken to the mending
back to lipstick on coffee cup smells smart
the sky rains a fall a dream from the start


                                                                                           ------ravenfeels
Too young to have an opinion
Yet not too young to know the truth
Too young to know their orientation
Yet not too young to know its not a phase
Too young to experience racism
Yet not too young to have slurs tossed at your face like small talk

Too young to understand global warming
Yet not too young to negatively affected by pollution
Too young to understand politics
Yet not too young experience the effects of an incompetent president
Too young to dress like that
Yet not too young to be denied education because the boys are distracted by your shoulders

Too young to experience real pain
Yet not too young to be six feet under because of it
This poem was written by someone who knows what it feels like to be "too young"
You're never too young to make a difference
A change in this unvarying world might be just what it needs
This is the second poem I've ever written, so let me know if you like it.
Sharon Talbot Mar 2021
You come to me each night
After all the crowds have left.
Never telling me your name.
And I, having stood for hours,
Begin closing down in the glow
Of blues, vermilion and rose
Reflected in plate glass,
From neon names of luxury.
I move to synthetic music
On an old stereo and let my
Eyes play tricks with the light,
The vivid letters and logos
Snake round and dance
Against the incipient night.
Just as I relax, you arrive,
The last one here every time,
As you were on the first.
You no longer pretend to consider
A preference, nor wander
Around, feigning interest in
Things you might not want.
Last night you brought flowers,
Twelve lilies in a Venetian vase.
Now this night you say I should
Dine with you somewhere,
But dinner is a euphemism.
You stand close, even as I turn away,
Occupying my eyes, though still,
I see your dark hair, straight shoulders
And the lean, solid strength of you.
I try not to think of your lion eyes,
Almond-shaped and topaz, that glow
With desire and will show a certainty
About me, lessening your need to ask.
As another song starts, I turn around
And you wait, amused almost.
“I have something for you,”
You say, conspiring with Venus,
And hand me a gift.
“You shouldn’t have,” is automatic
But I unwrap it while suspicion taps
On my shoulder, like a tiny demon.
Surprised, a cascade of softness falls
Through my hands, like pouring cream.
Holding it up, I see an evening gown
And think how strange a gift it is.
But it is as alluring as you,
The cloth is the blush of a thousand
Sunsets that sigh like silk
Dragged across a lover’s limbs

I ignore the thought that this color,
So full of innocence and petal-shades,
Clashes with your dark, consuming insistence
That I feel your desire and can’t turn you away.
You can blend kindness with tenacity,
So I am apt to let you in.
Agreeing to your proposition,
I suggest a dance with me.
I want to hear all the music in the world:
Pianos, violins, qanuns, sitars and humming bass,
With luscious voices luring the darkness inside,
Causing the lights to dance and our feet to move
Into that zone of heat that is riotous now,
That I felt all day, knowing you would come
To me again and I know now what will ensue.
And yet, as my body moves toward you
Without moving, my mind holds back,
Delighting in the wish, prolonging the unfulfilled
And I see in your pained gaze,
Under lids heavy with lust; you feel it too.
Why is it that we think of lovers
More intensely when they are far away,
And are closer to us on a distant shore,
Then, when their arms close round us,
We wish almost to be apart,
So they could reach for us once more?

Based on a dream
March 4, 2021, 12:50 AM
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