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In the end I think
the pain was too much to bear
to see such behavior coming from someone so beautiful
to see such hatred towards myself
coming from my own eyes,
eyes as lush and green as a forest canopy
at least that is how you described them back then

but your own eyes,
deep blue pools of loathing
for me
for her
for everyone around you,
they tell me what you truly mean.

That my eyes are dull and ugly
and better off looking in a different direction
and that you don't care what I do anymore
nor did you ever care

As long as no one is by my side
and that I do not exist to anyone other than myself

you will be happy
Most poems I write comes from personal experience if anyone cares to wonder. I don't listen to him anymore.
He brings poetry to the darkness
Growing inside and ignites the light
It's a beautiful sight,
Watching the dark deep night
Sleeping, embracing the moonlight
So close, so tight,

He brings winds inside my soul,
He was pure magic in black art,
He was sitting on a swinging chair
Gazing me
In drowning all the darkness
Deep inside my heart,
He brings a full moon to make love
From soul to soul
and heart to heart.
-Nida Mahmoed
his words are honey-coated
when he reads between the lines
my body, yeah, he owns it
but my heart will stay mine
his way with words is divine
warm fresh death of his reckless touch
deep down unseen but the dark
of his world  
his is the monster i run from .
LS 2d
moon river in our heads
august came instead
running our course
knowing there was much unsaid
one name, many memories
Sabrina 3d
I love the way her hair turns in circles,
How she cuffs her pant legs to show her shoes,
The way she hikes her pants like Steve Urkle’s
How she only wears different kinds of blues.

If my parents knew they’d certainly cry.
Such disappointment for their only kin,
But if they knew they would surely ask: Why?
My religion would view me as a sin.

My mom says I am committing a crime.
My dad says I should not think about it.
My friends say they’ll support me in due time.
My therapist says this will go to ****.

My story has no home, it is a stray;
But this story has a plot twist. I’m gay.
A sonnet for those who wish they could be themselves.
I stay up all night,
watching romances I have seen about a hundred times.
Looking at passionate kisses that jingle and rhyme.
I stay up all night,
comparing his love for me to all the loves that have ever existed.
From all tragedies like Romeo and Juliet
to all success like Ron and Hermione.
From all I love yous
to all infinity and beyonds
From all moons and tides that love but never touch each other
to all parasites that touch but never love each other.
From all poems and stories written
to all love letter burned and burried
From Hollywood to Korea
I stay up all night,
thinking if he kisses me with all the love he has
and loves me with all the kisses he can give.
thinking if his words are as true as him
and the truth is nothing but his words.
thinking if he looks at me like the moon looks at the earth
and the earth looks at nothing else but the moon
thinking if he will stay with me forever
and forever will become always with us.
I stay up all night,
but when I fall asleep
He comes and tells me tales of his love for me
with kisses on my body
wrapping me in his dreams so
I stop thinking about staying up all night
and sleep with my love and his dreams
Jenn 4d
i don't want to get too close
you seem almost
you like when i kiss your neck
why do i almost feel nothing
should i tell you i'm not emotionally available?
because to be honest
i'm emotionally exhausted
from him
and him
and him
and him.
will you be like them?
He is passionate
Overflowing with untamed emotion, magic slips from his
Fingertips creating masterpieces with his hands

He is fire
Dry throat, silent pleas, match to gasoline, uncontrollable
Skin devouring

He is love
Where nothing can become everything
A halo of light illuminated in a darkened room

He is balance
The kinda person who makes you feel like a sinner and a saint
All at once; You wanna see him happy even without you

He is art
His eyes compose irresistible stories but only to those who listen
His tongue an abstract painting, each stroke so intricate; delicate

He is sad
For he gives his love endlessly, concern is his language
He fears he's not enough, but hes so much more than he knows

He is a dreamer
In the eyes of the world doomed broken by design, all the things he Knew he was meant for; the sweetest ignorance of how to get there

He is familiarity
Sweeter than any childhood memory, you want to wrap
Yourself in his embrace, you feel like its something you know

He is
when you fall in love with an old friend, Wether it be Platonic or romantically, i will love you always
Hamies 6d
i feel you under my skin
running through my veins
competing with my blood
to see which's going
to reach my heart
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