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Your demons don’t play well with mine,
They bite and they bruise and entwine.
Yours weaponize tears,
Mine whisper, come near.
The chaos is purely divine.

Yours gasp for the rush of cool air,
Mine drown in your scent, flesh, and stare.
Yours vanish like shame;
Mine burn all the same,
Still lit by the hunger we bear.

We drift toward escape, dark and slow,
They bloom with our secrets and grow.
Yours tear through my seams;
Mine knot in your dreams.
A dance only demons could know.
Light limericks inspired by the psychological tension of Anne Sexton's work, who frequently explored intimacy’s darker shades.
Mariah Jul 7
Wishing I was dead
never worked out - in the end
Death and Life were friends
Even when it's bad.
Mariah Jun 28
I am impulsive
I am strange
Lying in the bed I made

I am anxious
I am loud
I won't make my parents proud

I am restless
I am tired
I'm not one to be admired

I am obnoxious
I am trite
Burning bridges keep me warm at night

I am indecisive
I am sure
Enjoying what I haven't earned

I am curious
I am afraid
Cleaning up a mess I made

I am grateful
If I am at all
I have no regrets that aren't absolved
Your guess is as good as mine.
abyss Jun 23
One story,
two different perspectives.
One story,
a hero and a villain.
Two different perspectives —
Now who's the hero
And who's the villain?
How often have you been the villain in someone else's perspective?
KNOWER Jun 23
First the laughter, then the tears
Like the morning, after all those beers
Matt Jun 23
I loved LA

I hated the campus
I hated the weather
I hated the hotel
I hated the drive
I hated the distance from home
I hated the judging, the scores, the results.

I hated LA
I hated LA so ******* much

yet

I loved LA

I loved the topic
I loved our rounds, our arguments, our performance
I loved the experience
I loved who I was there
I loved the new people i met, and the friends i spent time with

but more importantly,

I loved LA

getting to spend the weekend with her was a feeling beyond any other
having not to rely on fate to see her, to talk to her, to hold her, to love her
being able to wake up and know i'd spend the day with someone who cared,
listened,
comforted,
laughed,
loved.

I loved LA
and she taught me why they call it the city of angels
I wrote this poem on the ride home from the California State Debate Championship which was the first place I truly met my now girlfriend.
Shane Jun 20
Part I — Divine
The Mortal Speaks

Her rosy cheeks, her auburn hair,
Enchant the breeze with sweetness rare.
Apples and peaches, ripe on the vine,
Voluptuous grace in soft moonshine.
Evenings, like wine, drip from her lips,
Nectar no god or man dare sip.

Seldom does a star descend,
Eclipsed by longing none could mend.
Nearer she draws—divine, undone,
Tonight, I burn, one with the sun.

Part II — Carnal
The Goddess Speaks

How strange, this ache no god should feel,
Each glance from you—so raw, so real.
Love was a myth I sang in jest,
Lust, now a flame I can't contest.

Beneath my skin, a storm that calls,
Over my throne, temptation sprawls.
Untouched by fate, you bent the law—
Never to rise from passion’s thrall,
Deeper into hell’s flames I fall.
Beat
(still)
Beat
(still)
Listen—
Can you hear it?
Life.
From nothing.

Pause—
sit
within
the
emptiness.

Let
it
become
the
bea­t
and
the
(still)

Eyes, wide with wonder.
A heart beats
to the rhythm
of tiny,
pitter-patter feet.

Beat
(still)
Beat
(still)
Listen—
Can you hear it?
Life.
From everything.
From breath. From pause. From presence. This is what I heard.
Maria Etre May 26
It's not what is left
it's what's meant to be
right?
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