i love my body
my waist that isn’t the slimmest
but it’s doing the job
my lips aren’t the fullest
but they can taste
i admit i used to hate my legs
i despised the way they fell together
no thigh gap
plump in the mirror and through my judgmental eyes
but i had body dysmorphia
and she was so cruel to me
hitting me and shaming me for every little crease and imperfection on my body
she obsessed and i listened
and i cried and i watched myself twenty four seven
but now my legs are powerful
they could take down anyone
they’ve got a mind of their own
idk when i started loving every swoop and curve and turn my body took
i still think my stomach is too fat
it’s not flat enough
and i would and still **** in to create an effect as if i didn’t eat the two burgers
that i only ate one
but i know i shouldn’t be perfect
i should be human, after all
but how am i supposed to adore the parts of my stomach that don’t look like other womens’ do?
eat less, don’t bloat, stop drinking or you’ll float
i don’t take that type of criticism anymore
my body ain’t perfect
not even a bit
but i am human
what’s wrong with it?
cause it’s a built in truth teller
i won’t let any man stick around who doesn’t beg at my feet
and touch my body as if it were blessed by God
who doesn’t dream of tracing every edge of me and doesn’t say i’m pretty
he better wanna explore every part and dive in deep
love me in my rawest form, beautifully
i will leave him if he uses me for my body
i will love him if he waits for me
you know a body is just a outer wall
for the goopiness and strength of ones heart
so i will love my body
because it is a part of me
and not obsess over it
because it doesn’t matter at all to me

i cannot comprehend this
what makes sense is senseless
this senselessness is endless
so in the end i comprehend
enough to play pretend
but common sense tells me
that wars create sores
that are more or less forever
i cannot comprehend this letter
so i better carry on with this
senselessness which is endless
unless perhaps i end this my self

the last day of january
has always been so odd to me, darling
you left me there many days ago with a kiss,
and i've been figuring things out alone ever since
killing parts of myself, when i needed you the most

but look how i seized the days, look how i overcame it
i was merely sad and mopping around the city,
weeping over the trails you left on the streets we've walked on
and there were your eyes over the blue skies
asking everyone, was it ever my fault that we didn't work?

and this year, on the last day of january,
i got my new diamonds and rose gold
i merely checked on my work and to-do list
for the weekdays, i planned my february
you called me last saturday, you're drunk

i said i hope you're okay- and you thought i'd never reply
but i'm always weak for you, and it's january
so i check my phone, i hope you call me again to say hi
but i haven't heard from you in a day
i thought you were just drunk and lonely on saturday mornings
and you happened to remember that i've loved you ever since

and so i prowl back on my work, i am a busy young woman
my schedule: talking to teresa tomorrow,
talking to chris after the new year,
and talking to you no longer feels like talking to a person i love
you're more of a total stranger than the coco i know, than teresa, than chris
you just proved me again that you are never right for me, darling

i miss what i thought i had, i miss you the most of all
and it's very lonely to know
that i have been hurting myself than you ever did,
i hope you know this, but you're not capable of it,
my tiger knows no hurting

and i said wake up and get ready, it's the last day of january, darling
the professor is waiting for you at the door.
and i hope you're okay,
and i hope you're doing well in life

dearest you,

my mind is like a blank paper, seems to be waiting for someone to write it a letter. i do not know how to think, what to say, or how to even breathe. in the past, i have seen the hard things in life pass right through me, and i haven't even bothered to react. it looks like i have never been hurt.

this is not a poem, but rather a letter to my parents telling them that yes, i may be young but i know the feeling of debilitating effects of numbness. that yes, i may be young but i understand the feeling of wanting to drown your overwhelming sorrows in alcohol, smoke, or the company of another person.

this is not a poem, but rather a letter to my family in which i express that the things i've been interested in aren't wrong. this isn't something i picked up off the internet or from a movie; this is something i've felt my whole life. i've come to the realization that i can love anyone the same way i love myself despite their differences.

this is not a poem, but rather a letter to my first love, in which i confess my desire and embrace the tender heart that dwells within me for you. while i understand that you may not believe me or ever see me with you again, the love that i have for you remains in every word i've written to you since it is only when i write my true emotions come out. however, the love that i have for you will only live on in every letter i send you.

this is not a poem, but rather a letter to my mind, in which i convey my view that it is alright to overthink, but that it is never tolerable to forget to breathe. you can't imagine your life without the adventures and warmth you've enjoyed. there is no way to live without conflict or hatred, just as there is no way to live without grieving or shattering. all of this builds to your self. so what's the point of changing it?

this is not a poem, but rather a message to my heart, in which i ask why you are acting as if you don't worry? scared to emerge from the shadows, scared of being crushed, why are you acting as if you are unable to love, as if you are unable to change the world, and as if you are unable to follow those dreams that are passing behind your closed eyes?

this is a letter to them, in which i wonder as to why they are fascinated with who to love at such a young age. why not just wait for it to cross the border? and if it's lost, why are you still there? being in pain and staring as if you are not wanting to try make it today.

this is not a poem, but rather a letter, written to you and your heart and mind in essence. a letter to anyone who wonders while they slumber their laments floating away into the night.

this is a letter from someone who is full of hope and desire to make a difference and leaving a word that you will not be entirely fine if you are not going to beat the whispers from hell.

always and forever,
amanda

Can I pour this love I hold
for you into your open mouth?

Can I write you endless
love letters as long as I live?

Can I drown my sorrows
between your thighs?

Can I devour your scent till
you suffocate with pleasure?

In the dark
I write you a letter
hoping it would reach you

It starts like this:
My beloved,
I love you still

From afar,
but I still love you
as tenderly
as ardently
as ever

I hunger for you
as violently
as madly  
as ever

And I wait

My dear,

I've lost everything I hold near;
you've turned my heart into a constant pit of fear
where I flinch at the sight of possible pain
and lose sight of the flame
I ever saw in us.

It's such a shame
that I have to put up such a fuss
because I never really did much
to stop what was bothering me the most,
just let it drift away like a coast;
might as well take a toast
to all the few good times we had
and be glad
that you could've been the biggest part of my life.

I really don’t want to do this,
but you've turned my infatuated bliss
into something that could be dismissed;
I was ready to put all my cards on the table,
expose my all like a fable,
but everything got blown away
when you decided to stop giving me the time of day
and shut down everything I had to say.
You're a ****.
You make me go berserk
even when you give me just the smallest smirk.
I cant take this.

You never have anything nice to say;
think that makes me want to stay?
I'm over this whole act.
Have you ever learned manners?
No? Do you expect me to adapt
to this pettish play
where 'men' are mean to the ones they like?
That doesn’t even make sense.
Why would you act in anger
or give any thought of danger
to someone you want to give your heart to?
Does that somehow make sense to you?

But, when I look into your eyes
I can see past all these tries,
that I truly despise,
and I see the real you.
The one that wants to hold my hand;
someone who wants to understand
everything I demand
and commit to who I really am.

Playing this tug-of-war
will be the end of me.
But, the game continues because of this stupid life I wished for.
I should just shut the door
since this has just become a chore
I have to bear
because it only seems fair
since your eyes tell me more than the rest of you.

I think we're through
unless you change your ways that have somehow became apart of you.


Sincerely,

Your almost Love

this is not the age of letters
but the letter leaves you a feeling you've never exprienced by knowing how much you've been loved!