Gray 16h
The boy I like is gay
And that is totally okay
But I am a girl
And he will never like me that way
BetTer PeoPle
There once was a man who liked to eat grunion
he ate them with ketchup and onion
he ate them for lunch
he ate a whole bunch
he ate so many they gave him a bunion

There was a lady who liked to eat cheese
but when she ate it she started to sneeze
she'd sneeze and she'd cough
till her hat would fall off
and she developed a terrible wheeze

There was a young girl who ate cantaloupe
while she rode on the back of an antelope
she rode along fine
and continued to dine
till her antelope tripping, slid down a slope

There was a boy who liked mango
when he ate it he did the fandango
he'd throw out the peels
then with a click of his heels
he would dance a beautiful tango

There was a lady who loved carrots
but so did her large group of ferrets
if her ferrets were there
she had to give them a scare
to keep them away from her carrots

There once was a man who liked to eat soup
but when he did it made his ears droop
it was hard to recoup
with ears covered with goop
but he just couldn't give up his soup

There was a young lad who liked waffles
Though they made him feel really awful
he ate them with butter
then he would sputter
and develop a terrible cough-ful

There was a man who loved to eat stew
but when he ate it his face would turn blue
it was truly a ghastly hue
he looked like he had the flu
as if he was sick through and through

There once was a lady who liked custard
she ate it with pickles and mustard
a strange combo, she'll grant
since she's not even pregnant
when she was asked she'd always get flustered
Total silliness! Feeling playful lately.
Classic trepidation, stationary with the aura of
Coincidence, slit myself and call it skyward thinking
Sinking feelings that argue for a sudden resignation
Conscientiousness, leprous and typesetting

Intimate knowledge that I disclose verbatim cannot, and should not, ever be used against me.
Interest infected through wavelengths, non responsive partly cause of the rupturing that's been running through my dreams.
Scant as fixes to the problems, overblown and oft forgotten, lisping when I speak of this Epiphany.
Taxidermist furnish houses, howling wolves that get devoured, sounds like God and hell and them finally worked out peace.

Just cosmetic, slightly pathetic the ease at which the mind elapses
Classics retconned till nothing's left except the years of influence
Invested in the melancholy, snobs lobbyist and in distant memories
Blanche 3d
When I was 7, I knew exactly what Love looked like.

I knew Love had blond hair, blue eyes
cute freckles and a crooked smile.

Love was the fastest boy at recess.
He would push me on the swing set so that my feet flew
and touched the cotton wool clouds.
He shared his snacks with me because
well, 7 year olds are gentlemen like that and
I knew that we were meant to be.

Until we weren’t.

Because 7 year olds grow
and change
and from one day to the next
they are no longer the same.

Love now had brown hair, and brown eyes
so dark and rich I melted into them
like chocolate between fingertips on a warm summer day.
We read books together
like the true intellectual 7 year olds we were
and bonded over
stories about cats in hats?
It wasn’t the world’s most groundbreaking love story
but it was our love story
and that was good enough for our little hearts.

But that love faded away too.

I, in turn, grew and changed
and moved away.
I juggled languages with sports
and friendships and hell
the struggles of being a teenage girl
!
that I didn’t even stop to think about
where Love had gone.
I figured I would see him in the hallway
at some point
maybe
but he was definitely around somewhere!
We were probably just taking different classes
and had slightly different interests…
But I knew I’d run into him eventually!

It took me 4 years to come across Love again.
I hardly recognised him at first—
he had the same dark eyes, but this time his
skin was the colour of the coffee my dad drinks every morning.
His jawline was sharper than any knife in my kitchen
and his cheekbones were higher up on his face.
His dark eyebrows grew wildly across his forehead
but his grin was unmistakable.

Love had grown at least a foot since the last time I’d seen him.
He was an athlete, except instead of running at recess
he now ran sprints for the athletics team.
Love’s love for books hadn’t changed either
but he’d replaced the stories of hungry caterpillars
for novels, and plays, and poetry.

It was when Love made the same joke
and I heard him laugh the same laugh
that I realised Love didn’t come in a fixed package.
Love was not something you ordered online
that came delivered with a pretty ribbon at your doorstep
a dress you could try on and send back if the fit wasn’t right.
Love doesn’t have
a religion
a nationality
a sexuality.

Love is someone
who listens when you tell them about your day
even on the worst of days
not necessarily to give you advice
or because what you have to say is particularly exciting
but just because they want to know.

Love is someone
who you can talk to at any time of the day
the person at the other end of the phone at 3AM
when you need to cry because everything is wrong
but also the person who will take you to the park at on a Sunday afternoon
when the sun is shining, and the birds are chirping
and your worries
are wrapped in a soap bubble
and gone with a gust of wind.

Love always thinks you look beautiful.
Love likes your hair both up and down
thinks you look great in that bikini
that your makeup looks good today
but that you could also do without it.
Love thinks you’re prettiest when you’re smiling
but that’s not to say you’re not pretty when you cry.

Love is not always the person you would expect.
But do not judge Love for the body it comes in.
Judge Love for their taste in socks
and Disney movies
and candy bars
and sports teams.
For their opinions on politics
and peanut butter
the importance of family
and the new Snapchat update.

These little quirks which define Love
are what will decide whether you are meant to be.
NOT the body you encounter them in.
Although I'm straight, I felt it was important to write about the importance of accepting all kinds of love; whether it be different sexualities, religions, or nationalities. Hope you enjoy x

(side note: this was inspired by the slam poem "When Love Arrives" by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye. Thought I should just give them credit for their beautiful poem :)  )
Flame 5d
Please stop playing with me.
I can't take it anymore.
I really like you,
Like really.

It's that like where I know I want you and only you,
That I know I would do anything for you,
That forever and always,
But you don't feel the same.

And even though I know you don't,
There are times where I think you do.
Like when I catch you looking at me for a little too long,
When you tell me things that you say you haven't told anyone else,
When I feel my skin shock cold after your lingering touch vanishes,
When you talk about me to other people,
And of course,
When you hug me.

Now that's my favorite,
Hugging you.
I don't want you to ever let go,
Because it feels so perfect,
Warm and safe,
Like I can stay there,
And nothing bad will ever happen.
But then it's over,
And something always does.

So I convince myself that it's better to keep away,
I go through the same process everyday,
Delete your texts,
And tell myself I'm done.
That's it.

But then I look at something,
And it reminds me of you,
Or something happens,
And I want to tell you,
So I go back and forth,
Until I cave,
And I text you.

Sometimes you reply,
Then other times you make me wait,
And I can't think about anything else besides you.

I check my phone,
Over and over again,
Waiting to see your name,
But all I see is the same ugly wallpaper,
And the time.

So I calculate how long it's been,
Down to the exact minute,
And I get angry,
I know you've seen it,
There's no way you haven't,
And I tell myself that I hate you,
That I'm done and that's it.
And I really believe it.

But then I see your name,
And every bad feeling magically floats away,
And I'm right back to where I started.
Thinking,
Wishing,
Dreaming,
Hoping,
Of an endless future,
Of me and you.
Robert Apr 14
I'm not really sure what is it I like
About you
Maybe it's your pretty face
With a cute little smile
And big glasses hiding your eyes
Your long hair clipped behind
Two ears or falling in front
Of your face making it hard
To see you in full
Maybe it's the fact you seem calm
Quiet and shy
Studying by yourself with no one to talk
I'm not yet sure but the fact
That I like you so much
Remains
Mike D Apr 14
Spinning
Spinning
Spinning in circles
Round and round
constantly moving
an endless ride

Should I put up a fight or
Accept my fate
and simply hold tighter?

Fasten my grip
Buckle my belt
In for the long haul
Know my place; Don’t need help
No questions asked
No answers wrong
This is where I am
So it’s where I belong

Spinning
Spinning
Spinning in circles
Round and round
Constantly moving
an endless ride

I coast and glide
I shift and slide
Never in the same place
but always the same spot
I have it all
but don’t have a lot
My feet planted firmly
It’s where I need to be
Everything familiar
Far from society
from the darkened hand
the one that strikes out
I cower in fear
Full of self-doubt
My carousel glows and spins
It sings a song to me
The lullaby I know so well
Here I’m alive and free

Spinning
Spinning
Spinning in circles
Round and round
Constantly moving

Like the stars in the heavens
The moon in night’s sky
And this beautiful rock
Where I’ve lived and I’ll die
A spec of dust
Is far too great
To compare myself
in size and shape
When I think of it all
Everything that exists
Impossible to imagine
What’s my place; Where I fit
To juxtapose me
against the infinity of space
Solar systems and galaxies
I’m nothing; Mere waste
In what we perceive
as space and time
I’m no more than a thought
No, even that is too kind

Spinning
Spinning
Spinning in circles

A dancing ballerina
I endlessly twirl
Like the heavenly bodies
On their paths as they swirl
Orbital movements
Circular in nature
Even massive galaxies
they can not escape from
God’s amusement park
Forever stuck on their rides
Until their hourglass empties
And they must say ‘goodbye’
So how could I question
or possibly have the gall
to buck the system
This grand scale I’m so small
If it’s good enough for them
It’s good enough for me too
A bedtime story I told myself
A work of fiction that wasn’t true

Spinning
Spinning

In this game I play
I’m never winning
True ‘til the end
And since the beginning
Put on my smile
Gotta keep grinning
Like they don’t already know
Who do I think that I’m kidding
My stomach’s in knots
I feel sick; I start spitting
No beliefs; Stand for nothing
This whole time I was sitting
Pass the needle and thread
Wonderful yarn I was knitting
A divergence within
From myself I am splitting
I’m falling from grace
and every branch I am hitting
On my perilous plunge
I deserve what I’m getting
Served up on a spit
Table set without settings
Both the groom and the bride
in a black heartless wedding
Naked and on display
As my skin I start shedding
Revealing nothing underneath
Know what direction I’m heading
It’s the same path I’ve been on
The same bet I’ve been betting
A wedding cake of sin
my appetite will be whetting
Never called myself a sinner
Didn’t stop me from sinning
Round and round I go
My endless loop I keep spinning
Written: April 14, 2018

All rights reserved.
Dim Apr 12
Ivy
Ivy has style
Ivy puts on dresses and heels
Ivy reads books
Ivy talks about books
Ivy lies to her father
Ivy eats at expensive restaurants and pays with her mother’s card
Ivy is beautiful and wild
Ivy is strange and vicious
Ivy drinks more than she should
Ivy eats less than necessary
Ivy has a bottle of vodka and a coke in her car
Ivy has a parking ticket on the windshield
Ivy busily rolls a joint and goes outside
Ivy sits on a cold curb and smokes elegantly
What else can I say about Ivy?
Ivy has a beautiful, slim handwriting
Once Ivy kissed as if she was eating soup
Ivy is poisonous or so she thinks
Ivy is impressed by "stupid" crazy stories, such as "Naked Lunch"
Sometimes Ivy dances to Britney Spears
Ivy likes "Love" by Gaspar Noé
Ivy likes to re-enact classical paintings: Venus, Ophelia,…
Ivy buys matching underwear from Agent Provocateur
Kisses make Ivy’s back, neck, and face blush
Not a solid fill-in red, but marble blotches
Ivy has piercings on her nipples and down there
Ivy has scars from a razor blade: a triangle on her chest and "Anathema" on her hip
Ivy has a streak of tragedy in her
I like Ivy
Amanda Apr 12
Maybe if I were
More like you or you like me
Our love would still be
But we aren't
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