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Just Grace Nov 17
They said

her tongue is too big
for a pretty little mouth like that

They wanted to cut it
as if it will give me more freedom
Change my mind
Liberate my sleep

Then they said
tape your mouth shut
Rip it from your lips then
remember that sting every morning when you wake
Build up that grainy residue
So that no amount of scrubbing away will change anything

That raspy, hazy din of voice–
It’s not mine anymore when you let it invade your comfort

Whose grating is it then

when I bend and it works
Your move
then it just doesn’t?

I’ll rest in my autumn warmth
wait for the drowning of winter
then after
I will warn you of Spring
CyRhen Sohngs Oct 22
I unfurl my arms and reach towards the sun, with everything I have
for
it provides me, in turn, with everything I need.

As my petals grow, they tilt my head
towards
the smiles of passersby, I smile back
and they are smitten!

Praising me, at first
for the the velvety touch of my colors
Then coveting them
Taking souvenirs

Until I am bare, and the sun has hidden itself from me
I am everything they've ever wanted...
but only for a season.
Kitty Oct 21
girls are made of fluff
fluff covered slug covered girl
when is the girl a girl
when she is the fluff on a slug on a girl?
Pandora dO Sep 28
Cycles of life fill the world
and they amaze me
time and time again,
yet I cannot escape my own,
trapped as I am in a
continuously changing body.

My mind struggles with
the acceptance of my pain,
the necessity of the frustration,
knowing it will all return
until the final cycle wanes,
and till then I'll suffer.

I wish mine could be
as beautiful as the seasons,
but it is just an ugly mess.
© 2020
Just Grace Aug 18
take sips sip sips
tumble down the flowers
bundled in white towels at
my rose hips
from raised graves
velvet hearse
sandstone paves
push away stones along way

soothe
change patterns
surprise
break the consonance
act-like defiance
it's harder than we thought
hurry
get back to the tower
don't choke on the powder
before I get there

complex lush
doesn't need any soldiers
off horse, of course
only I reside in these gardens
part my own lawns to my great gates
a dosed beast waits
and I must return
your book of religion was scripted by those who felt imprisoned by the ones they called witches.
- energy
L.Ramorola
Utahi Kamu Apr 18

There is a reason why femme wasn't wrapped up with physical superiority, it is the same reason why curves don't cut you like edges.

The superiority of the curves is the cycle. The cycle which makes the universe go round since the beginning.  

LN Mar 17
With my hair unleashed,
strands fall to meet the crevices
of a sweaty neck.

See the black dye mirrored,
hands stained with disdain -
she watches.

A rendez-vous so scented,
slick with gazes squandered
loose after I wandered.
When a little girl plays with her doll

sometimes she'll check for a fever

she sees no bruise when she looks over the legs

she feels no pulse when she tries the arms

but she nurses it back to health -

that's her looking to bring back a smile never lost



When an adolescent girl falls in dance class

sometimes she'll check for broken bones

she sees no damage on her legs

she helps herself up using her own arms

and she returns to her ballet

that's her looking to do well at the recital



When a grown woman checks her ex's profile

sometimes she'll be searching for a sign

no signs she can see, as she pulls up her knees

that they miss her back, while she scratches her hands

but she continues to look

that's her looking for a change of mind that will never happen -

that's her wishing a change of mind was visible, so she can stay that's why she still looks.
This was originally one or two lines long so and a reviewer got confused so I decided I had to lengthen it. I do need to do longer poetry in general to be honest, my writing is usually way too short :/
There she lay
figure just beyond the rising turquoise spray
spooning sugar right out the jar.
******* her fingers like a babe, woe be to her, far.
Much akin to the salt in the pools by her bay
only so better loved upon the tongue.
So loved better, so tender and young.
There she was, pale feet to sand
in an even whiter dress, the lace to be flung.
Sugar, between the creases of my hand,
press her closer
flavor, the monotony of man.
Curls, red, like hills of strawberry blush
lips wide to such wolfish song.
Sweet fingers, mine to touch,
from still night to golden dawn.
And constellations, in her eyes, between her bones,
upon her nose,
sprinkling her thighs.
Anew with confiture was I, filled with her breath
to lose her would be cruelty, to lose her would be death.
Why - do I love her more than what I know to be?
I'm sorry I could only write of heaven
and not of what she see.
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