Mims 9m
*

"I'm lonely"

"make a mistake out of me"

Oops
Maddy S 1d

Every minute that passes by, feels like seconds,
And every day that we aren't together, feels like years,
So tell me why,
That I have this strange feeling that I might lose you?
Everyday we are together at school just doesn't feel like enough time for us to be with each other,
It hurts to know that you are the reason I cry all of the time,
But you are also the reason why I laugh all of the time,
So for you I will stay as long as you want me to,
And in the end, I just hope that we will never be through;

Fuck you for your songs
Fuck you for your gifts
Fuck you for your body
And fuck you
For being so fucking
Boundlessly
Giving.

Fuck you for your words
Fuck you for your warmth
Fuck you for your understanding
And fuck you
For being so fucking
Humanly
Kind.

Fuck you for your books
Fuck you for your glasses
Fuck you for your PhD
And fuck you
For being so fucking
Refreshingly
Intelligent.

Fuck you for your jokes
Fuck you for your puns
Fucking you for your podcasts
And fuck you
For your fucking
Adorable
Laugh.

Fuck you for your lips
Fuck you for your skin
Fuck you for your curls
And fuck you
For being so fucking
Breathlessly
Beautiful.

Fuck you for caring
Fuck you for loving
Fuck you for leaving
And fuck you
For not giving me the chance to say
Fuck you
To your fucking face.

Actually.

Fuck me for caring
Fuck me for loving
Fuck me for swearing
Fuck me for coming
Fuck me for listening
Fuck me for believing
Fuck me for giving
Fuck me for singing
Fuck me for snapping
Fuck me for drinking
Fuck me for chatting
Fuck me for dancing
Fuck me for holding
Fuck me for waiting
Fucking me for painting
Fuck me for hating

But most of all
Fuck me
Just please
Holy fuck
Fuck me

One last time.

I told her
That I loved her
But I wasn't sure
I meant it
And being unsure
Made me think that
I probably didn't
Yet I couldn't tell her that
Because how could I bear
To upset her so?
But being unable to bear that,
Does that mean I did?

I know now that I didn't
As surely as I know
That I do now.

Because a month later
I lay
With my head in her lap
And she told me
'You don't have to tell me
Anything'
Just as I realised that
I wanted to tell her
Everything.

I knew then
That I loved her
And I haven't stopped since.

She

She is the taste of clean air at dusk
She is warm socks on cold feet
She’s a full set of new coloured pens
She’s a long assignment at last complete
She is the crunch of a crisp Granny Smith
She’s the first cut into fresh chocolate cake
She’s the sound of rain on your window
When you’re the last one still awake.
She’s a cold sip of beer after a busy shift
She is the first coffee of the day
She is a necklace finally untangled
She’s coming home when you’ve been far away
She’s arriving leisurely at a bus stop
Just as your bus arrives
She’s your favourite tune at your favourite club
She’s feel-good songs on long drives
She is the smell of freshly lain paint
She’s the final tick on your to-do list
She’s that twenty you thought you’d lost
She’s the childhood toy you’d forgotten you missed
She’s the first joint-popping stretch of the morning
She’s a key clicking into place
She’s the feeling of immense satisfaction
You get when you draw your eyebrows right on your face
She is new lipstick
She’s tea perfectly brewed
She is a toe-curling, fist-clenching orgasm
That is more than weeks overdue
She’s the butter in popcorn
She’s the salt in the sea
In winter she’s hot chocolate
And in Summer, the shade of a tree.

So why isn’t she
Enough for me?

He said that
‘There is always one woman
To save you from another
And as that woman saves you
She makes ready to destroy’

Where is this woman?

I have met
A lot of women
None of them saviours
None of them breakers
Beyond the first.

I remain destroyed.

You are
Everywhere

Even in places
I know you would never be.

I daydream scenarios in which we might meet
Again.

At a bar
On the street
In the park.
The wing attack
To my wing defence
On the opposing netball team.

You do not play netball.

I see a camel coat
And black old skool vans
My chest tightens.

I hear a Northern accent
In a dimpled voice
My mouth is dry.

I watch the back of heads
With honey hair
My eyes widen.

I never used to date blondes
But now I often find
Golden strands
On my pillow.

And I worry that I could forget
The town I grew up in
The word for the colour of the sky
Or my own mothers name
Before I would forget your face.

I invited you in, but now
You are an unwanted guest
In my own mind who will not
Fucking leave
Even though the wine is drank
The dishes washed
And the last candle snuffed.

I could not make you stay.
And now
I cannot make you go.

I live in both hope
And in fear
Of seeing you again.

What sorcery is this?

Hair of honey
Name as sweet
As a drop of syrup on the tongue

Not for its letters or syllables
But for its taste
And the feel of it as it rolls
Around my mouth

Freckles under fingers
A map of braille
Written
Over skin

Dim lights, cushioned corners,
Bones on bones and limbs on limbs,
So
Very
Present.

A pillar of rock salt in an unfarmed field
So solidly there
And then
Not.

The rain fell
On the days I slept alone
And when I awoke

She was gone.

Riot 3d

I cried myself to the shower last night.

I used boy shampoo over the arms that I’ve been scratching for hour, four hours spent trying to get the blood I hated so much to come up and sit on my skin like it was their art gallery, hanging on for display.

It never came.

I run water over me burning tears into camouflage,the words of an empty life stung to my head as if the thoughts branded it here on me permanently.

I’ve had nights like this before.

Nights where I put on the loosest pajamas I could find, the ones with ESPN written written as read as the books on my old library shelf. The ones I took when my brother went to work and left me by myself, the ones that made me feel manly, even if I didn’t look like a man.

I wouldn’t put a shirt on.

My chest was bare, not in the way I wanted, but I couldn’t tear off my breast and give them to a girl who wasn’t born with them, I’d just have to stare till my stomach growled and tears streamed down my face, fears of a life unloved and unlived made me put on a loose shirt and tell myself I wasn’t hungry, so instead I thought of you.

You, with your crooked smile when you see me at your doorstep with the sun’s colors draped in a bouquet. I show up in a fox shirt, the one I call lucky, and you count each and every one and you point out how dorky I am.

You, with your back on the mattress of the cheapest apartment we could find, reading love letters I’ve written to your baby sister over the phone, telling her of all my love in the distance of thousands of miles. I try to pretend I can’t hear you from the kitchen as I make you tea, the lemon juice coating it bronze with the color of its juice, your vase holds out bright sprouts of happiness as a centerpiece.


Daisies plague my mind on nights like these. They’re scattered at your funeral & my own on our graves, at the fifty yard mark.

“We’ve been rolling together since we were 25.”

Nights like these remind me that my masterpiece is so far, even if the dasies are so close, so near.

ugh
Ollie 5d

I can’t remember my name half the time
I think it’s because kids keep yelling new ones at me as we’re stranded between these hallways
Like two of them are my parents and they can’t decide whether to put “lesbian” or “faggot” down as my middle name because they already chose nerd to be my first
I can’t tell you how I learned I’m the worst and how the only trophies I ever got were for participation
But they never told me what I participated in
Like with a grin they said “you didn’t succeed in life, but you tried.”
I can’t tell you how long I cried over this, like, people making fun of me because I wanna give girls a kiss
I can’t tell you what I could see
The first time I listened to spoken word poetry it was by a man whose last name is Koyczan and I sobbed
But for a different reason
Cause these kids never had me beaten and bruised they just told me I was a loser and you could tell they wanted to do worse
Your words hurt
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can stab you through the back, hit your heart, and rip the tendons of your rib cage until your bones aren’t broken but they will never fit back into the right place
I can’t tell you how long it took to find my place
And how right now it’s with a boy who has green hair and a girl who loves the color purple
We call ourselves the peasants
But how do you think we got that name
It’s because we were ashamed and words made us that way
Nobody ever wanted us to stay around and play around until we were 13
It took me 8 years to find it and I still find myself apologizing for it
I know I’m boring and I know my words are but at least they aren’t ripping your heart in half from the inside because my place and my rainbow shoelaces are the only thing holding mine together

I still don’t know where this came from. I imagine myself reciting it.
Next page