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Anastasia Jul 15
Sometimes I run out of words
And I wanna walk somewhere
So I put on my hoodie
And smell my perfume
It smells like you
A sleepy musk
I walk to your place
And words flow through my head
And I can't help but smile
A real smile
Unlike the ones I've had for a while
And I tell myself
It won't hurt
If you only love him for a while
Just enough to get through
I messed up
And I loved you too much
When I get to your house
I hesitate
Should I go home?
But then I see you smile at me
At my fears fly away
But the butterflies in my stomach
And I hope you will too
I don't know. Just my thoughts ❤
Philomena Mar 29
First time I wore it
Crying on the way home violated and confused
I suppose you can't rush a good time

It was soft, and it help me better than anything else
Helped my hide my body
And my scars

Kept me warm in the cold
And sheltered me in the night
Kept my alive

It was with me though breakups
And sneak-outs
Not to mention every long night in-between

It brought me to college
Helped me escape the pain
But it's gone now

It gets to help someone else though their pain
It gets to help a new life
Find a new home
Lord knows why I write anything at all. I used to have a grey hoodie so yea.
Bus Poet Stop Apr 2015
eye sometimes go to bed wearing an old hoody. It has a metal zipper  to close the front and the zipper is always cold, unpleasantly so, on my bare skin.  After awhile though, my body temperature warms the metal just enough, that it is no longer a cause of discomfort though the metal still remains inherently cool to the touch

While science can easily explain this I guess, I felt this to be a major miracle.  That flesh pliable and heart-heated to 98 degrees could conquer the molecules of metal that were made in China struck me as extra ordinary (always two words, please!) and nothing short of a personal intervention by a personal deity

When I put the hoodie on at first I would think
******* (that's cold)
When I awoke, cosy and warm, I would think
******* (that's so cool)

having studied philosophy in Cleveland,
I knew that the logic of the situation,
what I had experienced was not an
interregnum, but the invisible intervening handiwork of god, who, also knocked my glasses from the nightable to the floor,
just cause she/ he was in a bad mood, on account of having to come such a long way, just,
to reheat me
one more time.
In terre gnum - freedom from the terror of chewing gum discard actions and a phobia of gnus
b Feb 19
shoulder length brown hair
in a Justin Bieber swoop over my left eye.
***** glasses and the same grey hoodie everyday.
i am king of the middle school nobodies,
i built a throne out of
mediocre essays and failed math assignments.

in 7th grade
i was mortified that someone might
see me sweat through my shirts
so i kept my hoodie on.

it was an extra large mens grey hoodie.
it almost went down to my knees.
but i remember one day in
6th grade
i wore a t-shirt.
one of the hockey boys remarked how
big my arms were and wrapped
his tiny hand around my bicep and
squeezed. my extra skin ran through
his fingers like sand.

in 8th grade
i leave my gym clothes at home on accident.
so i grace the dodgeball court in a graphic tee.
a picture of pluto, and wrapped around it
"dont worry pluto, im not a planet either"
and before i could make it back to the only changing room in the school
i hear a boy yell "are you sure you're not a planet?"

in 9th grade
i walk to football tryouts.
cleats on the pavement.
one boy asks the group
what part of the game we'll be best at.
the fast boys start to race
and the strong boys start to shove.

"i have good hands" i say
"but im fat too"
and everyone laughs but it doesnt
feel like sweat or a planet or a big grey hoodie
it feels like a joke were all in on.
like they hired the clown this time
instead of finding one off the street.
at least this time i get a pat on the back
for my trouble.

it was on the street that day that i decided
to wear fat jokes like a face tattoo
or a wrestling mask
my new persona has entered the ring
and he cant lose
because no one is fighting.

i am big but i am hollow.
self inflicted wounds are like
coastal erosion.
Whose hoodie is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch him frown. I cry hello.

He gives his hoodie a shake,
And sobs until the tears make.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The hoodie is welcoming, safe and deep,
But he has promised to keep,
Until then he shall not sleep.
He lies in bed with ducts that weep.

He rises from his bitter bed,
With thoughts of sadness in his head,
He idolizes being dead.
Facing the day with never-ending dread.
Wai Phyo Win Dec 2018

I heard viberation out of the blue
just two minutes talk really like
"game over"
on screen in amusement park fool
a bit more than a missed
call stranger

Have to swim cross night
long and lonely
no energy to sleep back tight, in this
coldest night
literally surviving one and the only!
listening "Learn to be lonely" till
morning light

Wishing not to trigger another
stretched night
hoping for a good paper of
fortune cookie
anyway, a heart full of
thoughtful delight
You're always over my head like a
warm hooie
Based on true story
jasmine Dec 2018
she wore your hoodie
with a smile on her face
until you broke her
then she had no place

you didn't mean it
you swore to god
now your hoodie
is left unworn

as she bled
as she cried
as she hurt
as she died

she wore your hoodie
with a tear down her face
until you broke her
and she faded away
Linus Stevenson Apr 2018
A(r)mor I wear
With drawstrings that dangle
Another layer to cover
A beating heart

Pulling sleeves
Covering wrists
Vulnerable but protected
Blood flowing, life

I see her, fair
Beauty and depth
Yet a frail and fragile heart
Not armed, not guarded

Like a piece of art
"Please be careful...
Sensitive to touch...
Handle with care"

She will wear my a(r)mor
And cover her wrists
Hood pulled over
Guarding from killing whispers

She will wear my a(r)mor
I will be without
Naked, defenseless, exposed
But she will have a(r)mor

My Armor, My Amor
Irene Hao Apr 2018
He sits in the corner of my class, not my first one or my last one. It's one of those boring middle-of-the-day classes everyone dozes off to.
He sits in the corner, wiggling his eyebrows at the girl in the table next to him. He's always partners with her. They're good friends. I think.
He always has on a sky blue hoodie, littered with cliche inspirational quotes he scribbled on. My favorites are "Where the shadows crawl, light is always  close by" and "Nothing is perfect. I am nobody. Therefore, I am perfect." He always takes the hoodie off afterwards and stuffs it in his locker. I know because I've seen him do it. Every day.
When I first heard his voice, frankly, I thought he was a she. He gave off a cool vibe, a dramatic obnoxious drag queen diva. And I wasn't wrong.
First time I ****** it all in and approached him, he blew into my ear, laughed, and walked off. Second time, he approached me, said he liked scaring me. I don't quite understand it.
But the way he babbles, the way his smile just gets me smiling with him, I understand that part of him. The way he looks like he's always having fun, even during his science presentation, I like it. He's always smiling. I don't know if he really does, but I like to think so.
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