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Anna Jan 18
I see him every single day. The longing inside of me aches for his acknowledgement. His knowing of my existence.But truly I should hate him. He is a monster after all.  I hide in the shadows of halls and argue with myself. There are people at my school who cannot let others joy pass through their sights. It’s as if their desire is to make everyone else weak so therefore they can maintain their power. But what is power that is taken from negativity? I will never know so therefore I will never speak up. I can’t speak up. No one will ever hear me or see me. No one even notices me unless I fall and cry or break when the teacher calls on me. I’m their daily amusement. My hands are always clenched in agony and my heart is always being ripped into shreds from vain conquests. Despite the tear in my throat my heart beats for the ailing souls of the forgotten. It knows what the others don’t see and hear. Despite my agonizing breathes of air I’m still alive today. How I can still walk with my breaking bones and how I can still see through the foggy lenses society has bestowed upon me is truly beyond me.

I cannot allow myself to speak. Speaking takes energy. I don’t have enough energy to simply express my being and then have my voice heard. My voice is quiet and raspy with edges of cut mirrors and thorny rose bushes. I used to be a lemon tree sweet and sour but golden and sunny as most people expected from me and came to realize and to be simply put that was their recognition. But then the hazy storms of dread pricked my fragile fingers and brought forth blood of ruins. I was ruined. But at first they didn’t care. They wanted to see me for the way they knew me and not the way I had became. How was it fair that she got the recognition from her ex and not I? Not everyone knows of my full story simply because of the sacred secrecy I have been cursed with. He has banished all thoughts of fantasy and left me as a beggar for mercy.
Johnny walker Dec 2018
Killing time before going home, lemon pie and coffee and sat watching
the world go
People watching to pass the time they all seem having a bad day trying to get there shopping
Christmas over a new year
to begin wonder what the new year has In store for me anything has to better than the year thats just
Sat killing time lemon pie coffee In hand watching the world go by people watching
s v e n Dec 2018
"You are poison to the tongue
At least you taste like lemon lime punch.

I can't get over the sour of your voice,
It even gives me anxiety with it's overwhelming taste of sweet bitterness.

Let me overdose with the sound of your sour voice.
I figured if anything,
At least I can lie down with the silence of your bittersweet words and this quiet will help me sleep at night.
I know,

You are still poison to the tongue

At least you taste like lemon lime punch."
//oof, idk if this makes sense..
dmperez Oct 2018
lemon bloom lifted
to sweet pink tongued suckle
down around a drop
Cece Sep 2018
Everyone says it's not poetry unless it's got rhyme.
Well I wouldn't buy that for a dime.
My brain's a giant mess,
why would i try to make what I say any less?
Organization and aesthetics, you say?
well ***** that, anyway.

Coffee shops.
Lemon drops.
Those rhyme!
You'll see what i do with those in time.
Or maybe not;
I've already done a lot.

All this irony's made my brain jello,
so it's time to say hello
(to the end of this poem).
I'm crying it's study hall and i'm bored as fuckkkk so you get this weird thing
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
****** nuts, melted butter
crunchy, sweet base chills
Lemons squeezed, zest grated
sugar, cream cheese, whisk!
Pale gold cream on base
Drizzle curd
Thirteenth Epulaeryu!
Lemon cheesecake, baked or chilled, is HEEEEAAAAVVVVVEEEENNN!
I swear, I have a soft spot for all things lemon! ^-^
I love it!
Add come candied lemon zest on top, SOLD!
Lyn ***
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
Golden, crisp, buttery base              
cups the lemon curd,                      
creamy, zesty-sweet and rich            
silken on my tongue                        
Fluffy flower-crown                        
tips soft-brown                        
Hmm!                          ­                    
Gonna have a whole collection dedicated to food and treats! ^-^
This format is called the 'Epulaeryu' - A poem about gorgeous food! It consists of seven lines with a total of 33 syllables. The form is 7/5/7/5/5/3/1.
My mom treated me and my sister to some cakes in a lovely Bistro not far from us a few days ago. I'm a lover of lemon cakes but they didn't have any - only lemon meringue tarts which I agreed to try with some Jasmine Tea ;)
Man, they were both delicious!
And the music took me to a small Parisian cafe!
Be back soon!
Lyn ***
ph Jul 2018
You are no lemon, or lime but
for some reason you
are still bitter, even
more so than a grapefruit
and I credit envy
with the way
you are so green.
Perhaps you are this
way because it is
winter when you bloom
and the sun isn’t out
to kiss you in the way
it does with oranges.
miki Jun 2018
the tang of your freedom
laced my tastebuds with a bittersweet aftertaste
that incessantly made me want more

and with every dose
i became more addicted to everything you had to offer
until i had ****** you completely dry.

it was then that i realized, that when life gives you lemons
you shouldn’t always make lemonade

savor the tang
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