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we have never even touched hands
we just know each other
we laugh together
we share smiles, and glances for far too long

but i dream about the way ur breath would feel at the nape of my neck
and i think about how fast my heart would beat just sitting on the couch with u
and i even think of how ur kisses would feel like chapped lips but i smile
sometimes i imagine having real conversations with u...

about our pasts
about our goals
about our favorite songs
about our first kiss experience
about our number one desired meals
about our previous pets and current pets
about our views on if aliens exist
about our future with or without each other

but then i remember if any of those things happened i would fall in love with u

and then what would she do?
I wanted to scream
Until I heard the
Whistling in my ear.
I wanted a song
To pair with the freight
Train crashing through
My heart.
I wanted to feel my
Bones shatter
At the impact.

But instead,
I implode
And my lips pull
Into a smile.
"Don’t worry,
I’ll be fine
In a while".
When some days
are not so bad as others
but you’re still drinking
and miserable.
the inching hatred
of who you are
but not what you’ve done-
that’s depression.
Kayla Sherry Oct 12
High school.
You try to fit in.
You make yourself a fool.
You try to make friends.
But it get hard.
What if they don't like me.
What if they pull the "loser"card..
I'm scared and worried.
What if they don't like me.
What if i'm just alone.
Where do i find the key,
The key to make friends,
To make friends,
To make everything.
Freshman year.
Your scared,
You don't know what to do.
Everyone is all big and different.
You hate it.
Sophomore year.
You are getting used to things.
You know the way things be.
You made friends.
You want to fit in with the crowd.
You are getting a little exhausted.
Junior year.
You're used to the way of high school.
You are always exhausted.
Done with school.
You start to worry about your future.
Senior year.
It's your last year.
You're happy it about over,
But also sad.
You wish you did more.
Made more memories because it's about over.
You worry about college and your future.
You are growing up.
You're leaving the place that has been a second home for the past 4 years.
You wish it wasn't over so soon.
Graduation day comes.
You have a tear in your eye.
Finally saying goodbye to this place,
That you loved,
That you never thought you would leave.
You don't wanna face the fact you have to leave and grow up.
High school.
You might hate it now,
But you will miss it when it ends.
Make memories,
Don't listen to others.
Have fun because you only take high school once.
High School.
Hope you guys read this and actually felt something
K Oct 11
Isn't it funny,
How we use staples for paper,
To save for later,
To organize our thoughts,
In funny colors,
For each other.
Isn't it funny,
They stapled your head,
With similar staples,
Shiny and red.
You tipped your hat to the employee at the entrance,
She screamed,
And we laughed,
Our one and only defense.
wc Oct 8
poetry has the
ability to affect
us emotionally

poetry is the
most beautiful written art
it makes you feel things

things you have never
felt before, or you have not
felt in a long time

it opens up your
soul and brings back memories
suppressed long ago
Anna Oct 7
And then I was alone
A single daisy
In a field of thorns

Standing on my own
Waiting for a saviour
My future unknown

Waiting for the rain
To make me grow
Or wash me away
K Oct 6
Pink hair and big doe eyes,
plastic clothes and purses.
Do this, do that,
argue with me.
Show me the beginnings,
of my Insanity.
Play as girl, play as boy, get married and kiss.
Fly across the world.
Hold me in your hands like an angel could, if I ever believed in those things,
if I ever would.
Take me to the prisoner,
fill me up with shame,
tarnish memories with rust,
set a doll's eyes aflame.
But no!
It was pink,
like buttercream,
it was sickly sweet.
I am nothing if not human,
nothing if not bone and meat.
Hold me like a child,
like the painting on the wall.
An angel pure and simple,
gasping at it all.
The other is smoking,
trails of gray-blue,
the disastrous danger that is me,
shining right through.
Aaron LaLux Oct 5
She cries during ***,
in an attempt to express & address,
this set of collective regrets that’ve been suppressed,
ever since when she was first undressed & no one confessed,

I let her vent, give her room & hold space so she can process,

I suggest she take some deep breaths instead of stress,
still has some emotions left so I guess in a sense she’s blessed,
in a world that’s gone cold & everyone seems possessed,
people stumbling around like zombies in The Walking Dead,

no Norman Reedus or Andrew Lincoln features though,
just an aborted fetus & a broken heart seeking treatment,
which explains why she’s always willing to give guys a try,
& stay with them faithfully even when she’s mistreated,
& I’m willing to be crucified for the actions of other guys,
so I take her torment away & transform it like Jesus,
bare the weight of her loss like a cross then write the moments,
releasing the feelings in books since I’m a poet not a preacher,

not here for the heroics,
or other crowning moments or admirable achievements either,
so I’m on the down-low drinking hoping to go unnoticed,
at a bar on a barstool with a babe so hot I’ve got a fever,
we’re both discrete because we both need ****** healing,
& I promise her I’ll be here for her & not leave her,

until I get assassinated like Abe Lincoln at a theatre,

but she doesn’t believe the things I say about loyalty,
because she’s been betrayed before so she’s not too eager,
but hey I can’t blame her if I’d been through what she has,
I probably wouldn’t be eager to believe me either,
pause this’s getting too intense it’s time for an intermission,
I need to take a break so I can take a breather,

in a real life Soap Opera drama live on stage in Life’s theatre,
caught up in all the rawness of these women’s feelings,
one minute she’s laughing the next minute she’s crying,
she apologizes & I say she never has to apologize for feeling,

or make excuses to me or anyone else for her feelings,
I mean at least she still feels things,

even when those feelings open wounds that need healing,
lays her head one my shoulder, says she’s been ***** before,
so when I go rough in the sack with her she gets flashbacks,
& it’s hard to face facts that relate to what’s happened before,

I tell her it’s okay I tell her I’ll go slow we can take our time,
I tell her it’s ok to stay she’s safe, she can tell me anything,
I tell her sometimes it helps to open up & communicate,
but she just clams up & doesn’t say a thing,

so I get up to go shower,
to try & wash off the stress,
moments later she comes in & joins me,
somewhere between sedated & upset,

at a hotel somewhere in America,
a hotel they call boutique,
but it all feels haunted & a bit spooky if you ask me,
the wind howls, the windows rattle, & all the floors creak,

so I can’t help but get the creeps,
because this hotel feels more than just a little like me,
all dressed up nice, hip trendy on the outside,
but inside everything’s not at all what it seems,

haunted from the drama of these girls that were abused,
then used *** to transfer that abusive dark energy onto me,
which I guess I kinda deserve because I used to serve,
this sort of abuse to girls who were into me sexually,

you get what you give this is exactly what karma is,
so now I’m trying to help heal the Collective Feminine,
from all the damage that’s been previously done over lifetimes,
by the overly aggressive actions of the Collective Masculine,

so go ahead smash your conflicts into me I’m begging you,
drown me in the ocean of the tears of your traumas,
scream shout let it all out until there’s nothing left to let go of,
& I will still love you continually no menopause or commas,

I will always love you unconditionally continually,
no mental pauses or parental dramas,
you have been hurt before but you still have worth for sure,
no one’s pure but at least you’re honest & willing to work on it,

& it’s an honor to be here to hear & be your platform,
for you to express your regrets until there’s nothing left,
you are an incredible creation resilient & brilliant,
you’re worth it we’re out here when distressed I’ll be your outlet,

so you can vent the stress as you process,
even if part of that process involves crying during ***,
you’re worth it I’m here to hear everything you express,
a Living Light in this world of The Walking Dead,

so it’s totally okay to cry during *** go ahead,
especially if it’s an attempt to express & address,
the set of collective regrets that’ve you’ve suppressed,
ever since you were first undressed & no one confessed,

I’ll let you vent give you room
& hold space so you can process…

∆ LaLux ∆

from THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3
available worldwide.

If you enjoyed the poem message me directly and I'll send you a link so you can have the Kindle version of the book for FREE.
Another True Story...
Henry Oct 4
Your graze is tough, your heart a lock,
a foul                play
too ghoulish
                           frontal and bare,
created with lust and solace.
Baritone and               careless.
your grandness,
          and best       look,
Your dream a call,
too long, too felt,
emotion lost and calling.
you fear
it sir,          you fear my existence
You’re a
fool, a fool.
You’re a fool with a questioned heart.
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