You're not like the other girls I've loved
Your laugh is like the embodiment of summer
Warm weather and flowers blooming
Two girls with sun kissed skin and strawberry lips, that's us
Please don't ever go away my love
I don't think I could stand it if you did

I wrote this about the girl I'm currently dating
Bjarke 1d

I don't write a lot of poetry about me being queer.
Not because I don't like it.
I love that about me.
It's because I'm lucky.
I'm so  lucky that I grew up with parents who hugged me when I came out.
So lucky, that my friends reacted with a "hey, cool".
So lucky that all of this let me come to terms with myself.
I never hated myself because of who I am...I'm so so fucking lucky.
But there's so many out there who didn't have this.
Who's parents kicked them out or beat them.
Who's friends left them alone.
Who hate themselves for who they are, for the wonderful things that they are...
For me it was easy, for you it might not be
For them it can be so hard.

LGBT people deserve more than what happens to them.
Gaib 4d

Okay kid here's the deal, you'll come into this world and everyone will tell you how to feel.

Fast forward, fifth grade, you're in the bathroom stall. The first time you knew the word gay, it was written as a slur on a dirty cement wall.

When your brother came out it shouldn't been a surprise, but even
you became accustomed to the fear behind his eyes.

Using art as an outlet, you set your electricity free, bleeding words onto paper, grasping for being who you wanted to be.

Drunk on idealism and Tumblr walls, discovering yourself, refusing to fall.

Into the same routine and monotony like the rest, you took your pain to the stage, ripped your heart open and confessed.

Screaming I AM WHO I AM, with your arms open wide, who knew one day you'd finally refuse to hide?

Anja 4d

I am
Mostly dependent
On independent people
Especially when they’re women—
Especially when they’re you.

You, with your
High-pitched laugh and your
Dark hair up and your
Pride loud but your
Voice louder and

I am dependent
And most days I repent it
To have my body and
Soul and
Heart and
Head in

And you
have your head and—
Your head.
And that’s, you say,
What you like in me.
That’s the takeaway:
My academic
Not the late nights spent
Holding you or the
Times I went
To comfort you
Or the energy used
To convince you
it’s true:
You are

Enough, I said
On the floor
I told myself
I couldn’t do this

Am a person
Not a therapist
Per se
A laborer
A construction worker
for you
And me
And us but
Even I can’t fix a
One-way street,
Not me.

Although sometimes I’d like to—
Especially when you look at me the way you do and
Lift my skirt and break the rules
And scream louder than
Anyone else,

You ghost-like figure
Presence-less, you sometimes-mess
And yet I insist to
Chase you
but you’re the one who will haunt me
through and through,
You and your fucked-up ways
To show
After all,
There is not space for me
in ‘I.’

But then I remember
The way you defy
Expectations—including mine
and every time
You deny
that you are afraid
For your life
But let me tell you
So am I
Afraid for my heart when we’re apart
But lately also
When we are together.

See, I knew this wasn’t forever
But I thought the end was yet to come,
Not yesterday.
Or I guess maybe it was
Right at the start—
The first time you kissed me
And the first time I missed you
When you didn’t miss me,

And now you have me here
In this space
This in-between,
And I,
A basket case—
Wishing that
I wasn’t here
I wasn’t queer
That maybe if I found a man
I could spare myself this
Late-night pain and
Post-drink drain
I will find a husband and
A house to stay in with
a white-picket fence and
that I am numb so that
I won’t feel happiness
but I won’t feel loss
I won’t feel like this
Ever again.

So here I am and
Although it’s different this time around
I am still bound
by my roots
And my wounds and my soul.
This may make me dependent but at least
When I said I loved you I meant it—
Yes, I am in love with you,
From the start, everyone knew
And they told me to
And run I did
Right toward you
You, my gone-too-soon,
And I am
A fool.

this poem sounds the best when it's performed, but I hope you also enjoy the written version.
axr 4d

well there goes another parade,
we're now marching with rainbows on our bodies and hashtags on our face
our roars pierce the skyline as the guns fire
bang! bang!
another bullet
in our direction
another life lost
and now we have a new sensation
young man murdered for a skin colour he didn't choose
young man murdered because 'he seemed like he was from the hood'
young man shot dead for following the rules

hashtags flooding twitter, photo sets on tumblr, double taps on instagram and likes on facebook
debates firing up and questioning the truth
we're marching
with the names of the dead carved on our skin
girls murdered for loving girls and boys murdered for loving boys,
a girl being murdered because she no longer wanted to be a boy.

we're crying,we're laughing,we're screaming and we're dying
and now the walls are covered in our writing
because we will never stop fighting

guess who's back

Her existence, a blessing I'd die for an infinite amount of times
Her body, a Goddess I'd kneel before and drink from as she sighs
Her voice, a tune I'd surrender to with a haste and no waste of time
Her love, a need for my soul or else my heart will crumble and die,

Her legs, the most breathtaking home I'd buy with all my money and dimes
Her breasts, fertile mountains I'd climb and cultivate unlike any other lady or guy
Her tears, a watery whisper that I'd hear from any dimension and race to her to try and lift her mood high
Her fingers, create music by simply a touch on my soul and body that I'd do everything just to hear her chime,

Her feet, a sweet and sour fruit I'd squeeze and suck on like lime
Her insides, a garden I'd grow with moans and devour like a buffet of pies
Her shoulders, a story teller I'd sit and watch for years its magical mimes
Her mind, a maze I'd explore even in my sleep with curious eyes,

Her arms, a warm cocoon I'd reach even if it means sprinting a million miles
Her lips, a prison I'd enter with will and lock myself in with no "Whys"
Her face, an angel's I'd fall for and burn in hell just to see her smile
Her life, a life I'd chose to defend and die for without hesitation nor lies,

Her curves and edges, ancient artifacts I'd dig up mountains to retrieve them as they never lose their pine
Her eyes, a galaxy I'd never wish to leave with a "goodbye"
Her soul, a creator of the most gorgeous gems I'd never find in any other galaxy's mine
Her hands, a sun and moon I'd hold close to brighten my darkness with a tie,

Her hair, silk strands softer than any silkworm’s silk that I'd travel the globe just to feel it's fine lines
Her bottom, the most luxurious cushion I'd crawl through the deadliest dangers just for a lie
Her back, a wall of vines I'd bleed to water with these loving strokes of mine
Her scent, a mixture of perfumes I'd inhale even if it'll poison me inside,

Her skin, a masterpiece of blemishes I'd dive into oceans and suffocate just to kiss, lick and dine
Her personality, a trophy I'd strive to win even if it'll cost me my mortal life
Her neck, a tower I'd clamber and fall thousands of times just to drink from like wine
Her essence, a bouquet of flowers that even when wilted are still as fresh as the day I thought: "Oh my."

A lengthy lyric poem typically of a serious or meditative nature and having an elevated style and formal stanza structure.
Bee 6d

fall softly, my love, for i have missed
the sweet caress of rain against my calloused skin
free from careless storms, i have found in you a love that demands to persist
an enormity so grand that is our wonderful sin  
of which we once tucked behind dreaming eyes
now, at long last, had bloomed into reality
and as we stumble further into love we shall publicize
an act as pure and vulnerable as you loving me
for angel, you shine too bright for i to feel ashamed
over cowardly concerns of loving openly
and through everything we have both proclaimed
that despite the odds, the best way to love is outspokenly
we carry the weight of our past regret
and yet, we dare to love, my juliet

Riot 7d

I was so close to just saying it,
you decided
to make it
sound horrible.

Josh 7d

You are to come
As I did too
To that time
That shall frighten you
Your body will change
The world will seem strange
Your mind won't work the same from day to day

You will begin to notice things
That make no sense just yet
Feelings, you won't soon forget
Yet society tells you its wrong
You don't ask for fear of the answer
You are silent out of fear
Shaped by your fears
Fearing telling them, afraid of what you'll hear

Told, its just a phase, you'll be fine in time
Your heart, unlike your head
Isn't shaped by society but shapes itself instead
And as your heart leads
So follows your mind
And if you chase them
See what you may find

Society fills us with pointless noise
Girls are girls and boys are boys
Boys like girls, and nothing else
You are part of society there is no "self"
But they're lying, that's what they do
They use their words, to control me and you

But your love is your own, its natural
Who you are changes, it's not a disaster
You may be born, a clean slate
But its your choice who paints you
Are you going to be covered in words
Society's criteria of importance
Or will you be covered in art
Painted by life lived to the fullest

By lovers, friends
The start of relationships, and the ends
To make yourself a stand against society
A beautiful picture of anarchy
So please live free, live happily
Don't let society define you
Don't make the same mistake as me

From my self published book "ivory and gold" available on Amazon.
Taylor 7d

being in a dark place gives you
plenty of time to think
so as I sit in this closet I wonder what
would happen if I opened the door.
would my mother still be able to call me
her daughter knowing that she likes girls and guys?
would my father go to an AA meeting one day
and never come home knowing his daughter
could one day get married to a woman?
would my brother not understand or would he
understand but not accept it?
would my grandparents still hug me knowing that
one day I could wake up in a woman's arms?
would my aunt and uncle drag me to the nearest
church and ask God to forgive me and then go home
and pray for me before eating dinner?
would they ever let me near my little cousins again
thinking that they could turn out like me?

being in a dark place gives you
plenty of time to write.
so I write about what I think life is
like outside this door, I write about
the slivers of light that come through
the cracks in the door and how wonderful it
must be to see it in all its glory.
I write about the shakiness I get in my hands
whenever a distant relative asks if I have a
boyfriend yet I write about all this and tuck
it away like a child trying to hide a
broken item from their parents because
they don't want to get in trouble.

being in a dark place gives
you plenty of time to hope
although it is hard to come by,
it's all you really have.
so as I sit in this closet getting ready
to endure another sleepless night
I hope that one day my hands will stop
shaking long enough for me to
finally open the door and be able to live
in the light I have only seen in small pieces
and I hope that when this
day comes, if it ever comes
I won't be alone like I am right now.

why does the closet have to exist
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