I breathe
it fills my lungs
the atmosphere if warmth that surrounds
as I stand
amongst the mess that yu have somehow
made perfect
Yet I don't understand why
you choose me
every single time
you
want
me

tell me
tell me I'm beautiful
tell me I'm worth it
tell me that I mean something
tell me who I am
tell me how I've changed
tell me who I'm meant to become
tell me before i tell you

Pamela Rae 14h

This sliding out of my toughened skin
and donning a more subtle, supple one
that fits so much better
my personality and soul
I thought I had lost the smoothness
the eloquent softness and creamy texture
which I have always felt, always known
but in finding your love, your acceptance
your very being and desire
to captivate and entrance and enthrall
this woman who has always loved
always adored and cared for you--
you've reawakened the suppleness
and fed me an elixir I used to drink
only in my youth
and reminded me that always youth
and beauty and depth of soul
are within one's power and belief;
are merely a state of mind--
and oh, this new found relief
of knowing I am still
and will forever be
the loving, giving, compassionate soul
who has always been just ME.
©Pamela Rae 04.27.1017

I am from a vintage typewriter
that sits upon the top of my desk.
From old notebooks and old pens.
I am from the grass beneath the winds,
a warm fuzzy feeling of being so loved.
I am from the simple summer daisy,
the oak tree whose long gone limbs.
I remember as if they were my own.

I’m from seven a.m. Christmas breakfast
at pappy’s and gorgeous blue eyes.
From Richard and Tabitha –
I’m from staying up all night and
waking up at the crack of dawn
and from the smarty pants I live at home with.

I’m from “listen” and “be quiet” –
and Shall We Gather at The River.
I’m from annual summer camping
trips to Jennings Randolph Lake.

I’m from Winchester, VA and crowded cities.
From late night pizza and mamaw’s macaroni salad.
From dad kicking a cactus when he was young,
and mamaw saying that she is right and dad is wrong.

I am from those spilled memories
placed all around my mirror on my vanity.
I am from vintage keys,
locked in a box under my bed.
I am from stolen memories –
snapped before the people could move.

This is me –
made up of stolen memories.

I wrote this for a creative writing project. I had to "steal like an artist". So, I wrote my own version of "I Am From".
rose 22h

Tonight me and the moon
have allot in common
we are both alone
yet whole

wrote this under a full moon
Abby 1d

dear you,

she's not sure why
she even still brings it up
in her own head
because you are long gone by now

but she stopped falling for your tricks
a very long time ago.

she doesn't understand why
you were so demanding
of her time
and attention.

you were the knife against her throat,
and because she was afraid,
she went with you.

you were the only one on the other end
of the electric wire.
and because she felt powerless,
she let herself get electrocuted.

all she knew you for
was a photograph,
a username,
a mutual friend.

but you seemed to be a ghost
in her head,

unseen but persistent.

you hijacked your way
into the skin behind her ears,
and laughed when she heard
but couldn't see
you.

and when she finally had the courage
to shut you down,

you made her question
her own sanity and existence.
because of your
insecurities.

she can never forgive you
for that.

so dear you,

if she ever sees you walking
down the street
with a smile
painted in yellow
and green
and purple,

she will not approach you.

she will simply clasp her friend's hand tighter,
smile sweetly,
and add
a little
blue.

~stay away from Franklin Street
Josie 1d

I am you
I am me
I am anybody you want me to be
You can try to mold me
But you cannot control me
Or pigeonhole me
So please let me be

You can
        Lean on me
  And let our broken pieces slide against each other
    And together, we will make a beautiful fucking mosaic

As I stare into your alluring eyes,
You gaze back at mine,
Nibbling on her lower lips,
Enticing me into her soul.

She grabs my hand,
A thousand white feathers shimmering,
I Grab her hourglass waist,
And whisper "Kiss me"

The nervous feeling you get when you start to like someone.
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