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Sahana Oct 5
Remember when, he
Called me on that rooftop night,
Just checking, to make sure
I got in—pulled me in for half a hug.
Joined me for a dance,
Thought about the time he
Told me that I’m so fun.
One last night out,
Young and free, before
Careers kick in and reality sets in.
It ended before I knew it,
On the car ride home,
Thinking about what coulda been,
He tells me he’s crying,
Begging me to stay—but
Saying yes is not an option.
Remembering when I found out,
He was reading the book I had,
Or felt he that fire in chest,
About our political crisis,
in a way like me,
In a way I hadn’t seen yet.
Spending so long settled in
The idea of a man lesser than &
Surprised to find the joy
In expanding my horizons,
Learning about my self imposed limits,
Watching them crumble in,
Realizing I am capable of
Every bit of the life I wanna live.
Found solace in the similar ways we think,
A sketchbook of drawings,
Connecting each & every limb,
Far far away
from spaced repetition.
Death by a thousand cuts
Ambition, something else
That I didn’t think I was looking for.
You took me by surprise,
Chelsea boots in that kitchen,
Didn’t ask me where i was from.
Between the bridges and lights,
Guitar riffs playing in the back
You grabbed my hand,
Spun me round, drink in another.
Kinda hated the smell of your breath,
The way you patted me on the head.
When you begged me to stay,
Under the night sky, every sway.
bhu Oct 4
Talks were talks
Sometime, somewhere, not somebody

A minute after, fondness
Reflection of my naivety

To come were moments of easily dismissible presumptions
Devoid of intrinsic rationality

Then the gush of apprehension
Soaking me with doubts about my sanity

A minute before irrevocable acceptance
Good to finally meet you, reality

Talks are talks now
Sometime, somewhere with somebody
Caitlin Ayala Sep 26
I feel weird,
And I feel relieved.
Your face is so soft
And your breathe is so warm.

This is a new feeling,
Sure but so unsure.

I want love
And I want no more pain.
I need you here,
And I need a promise to never leave.

New love,
Old expectations.
Sahil Sep 21
My wings were clipped the day I was born
I was put under the pressure of a billion eyes
My dreams ripped my skies torn
My life was built on a faithful lie

The shadows of my imagination
feared the glare of their expectations
My broken bones, My shattered heart
Sang the stories of me being torn apart
She did not know
if she had been cut from birth
or if they had done it to her
when she was just a child,
barely old enough to remember, shrouded
her in the stinking, clingy breaths of obedience
until she had learned
to succumb to the robotics, to finally
trash her emotions,
crush them to ashes.

Perfection was hard to maintain.
stop holding your children to unrealistic standards 2k19
Jeff Lewis Sep 16
She seemed to think my name
could be Clark Kent
and she knew my alter-ego.

But, my Kryptonite
is expectations.

...super.
Anita Daniel Sep 16
I look through your eyes and I see our future
I see our love
I see our goals and aspirations come into life
Then reality hits me hard like my bottle of chapel sweet red wine crushing the floor
That our love is "non licet"
Against societies expectations
Against family beliefs
Beliefs that have been sown into my magnificent brain
**** that!
I broke the barriers
I don't live up to meritocratic expectations
I live for love
You are my love
I love you
Our energies coincide with one another
You are my "forbidden" soul mate
Just as these words flow
So does my love for you
Meu rei
I am in love with my relative.
Emily Sep 11
Imaginary things are great
Fake things are not real
Life has many flaws.
The world is not yet gone.
Comfort is imaginary.
Hope is fake.
Love is our flaw
We are not yet gone.
"Close your eyes
Picture a smile.
Pretend to be excited
About a new family."
Happiness is opinionated
friendship does not last.
Family is broken.
Help does not belong.
"Be a better daughter"
"Be a nicer friend"
"Be a kinder sister"
"Just don't be you"
No one is themselves
They hide behind a mask.
Deep down we all know.
We are just our parents
In another life.
They just c copies and pasted.

-3nwlry
“I’m sorry”
I whisper.  Over. And over.
A reflex when things are not okay.
Because no matter what I’m always to blame.
Cyan Sep 3
We seem to write
A narrow beauty of skin,
For in reality,
How many of our lovers
Are porcelain pale
And petal soft?

Instead,

I’ll chant exaltations
Of goosebumps
And the scar on your right shoulder.
Behold and bathe
In stretch marks
And acne bumped and pitted cheeks
Shriek sonnets to
Your body hair
And the callouses on your palms.

Sing psalms
To your rough texture
And how I relish every uneven inch
Of your skin
So warm,
So,
So-called
Flawed,

Because God
Or whatever’s up there
Carved you in this form
I fell in love with.

Why make you
Into a marble statue
And pretend that stony David
Was greater than the poet,
The lion slayer,
The king,
The very flawed and human man?

I’ll stand
And challenge that direction
For if we pretend perfection
Is what we desire,
We’ll never reach higher
Than our fingertips.

But your chapped lips
Lift me to the skies
Where all earth’s vanities
Can’t flood my eyes,
And I see clearly
You and me,
In Eden
Wearing nothing
But skin.
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