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Jay Apr 20
Afraid of the leather. Afraid of the wood. So I lived in the middle where nobody stood. Never once did I ponder on whether I should-if I could drift off maybe I would.


Quite riddled I fiddled with words in the middle and whistled a dwindling song. Alone I would kindle my love for the middle and diddled a world of my own.

And here I'd cocoon in the chill afternoon and await the June holiday soon. Raise my voice to the moon; sing a joyful tune that would leave me as gay as a goon.


I hear gravel?


I hide-


and I brace for the tide stare outside and prepare to collide. Did the middle subside as the diddling dried cos I lied!? I prefer that I died.

Hearing the door ringing I'm certain you’re bringing a beating of leather to sting. No crying or bleating! No pleading or weeping! No pity is left in your eyes!

I cowered in fright.

Try to put up a fight-

or take flight before anger ignites!

I long for my middle! Escape from your plight

but no might could protect me tonight.  


!


I'm leathered!

Belt weathered.

I cower and quiver so back to the middle I go.

Like shadows I slithered from pain you delivered that withered my love for your world.


Afraid of the leather. Afraid of the wood I retired to the middle where nobody stood. Never once did I ponder on whether I should-if I could leave then-

I never would.
A poem about my childhood
Rob Apr 17
they were talking about me in school today
like i wasn’t there.
they were talking about my sexuality
as if it were a debate topic.
they discuss my sexuality like i don’t cry myself to sleep thinking about it.
i hate myself for who i am,
and i hate myself even more for the way i hate myself
for the things i can’t control.
the gossip will continue.
my sexuality will be a discussion for years to come.
from myself and from people who don’t even know me
who think they know me
the kids that talked about me today did.
they knew my sexuality even before i did.
an artist Apr 3
the exact middle, she claims
i'm neutral, she says
i don't pick sides, she proclaims

no, no
the exact middle is never
the exact middle
of nothing

we are always in the middle
of something

when i hear her say,
"you know i've never picked sides,"
what i really hear is:
"i don't care enough to care"
"my comfortability, my ignorance, is worth more than someone else's struggles"
"my silence is more important than another's life"

what i hear is you giving up, giving in,
because it's not your problem, right?

no, no
the exact middle
is never
a "neutral" place to be
LC Apr 3
I walk along a trapeze,
palms sweaty, legs shaking,
refusing to fall either way.
to go left is to fall into a fire
for a life which burns my bones.
the people will smile upon me,
oblivious to the ash surrounding them.
to go right is to fall into soft trees.
the leaves caress my skin,
but the people vanish like smoke,
and I fall to the ground.
the exact middle is survival
until I reach the other side.
#escapril day 2!
Bread n butter
They live together
They mutter n mutter
What they utter
There is not an iota
Of truth
There is not an iota
Of lie
Neither truth
Nor lie
Logic they don't defy
There's no
Middle third
They might have heard
They don't mind their words
They're  nonsensical
They talk nonsense
Nonsense is meaningless
Neither an iota
Of truth
Nor an iota
Of lie
Logic they don't defy
There's no middle third
They might have heard
They're love birds
Thomas W Case Feb 17
I used to make this exotic Indian dish.
It combined so many spices—like cardamom,
coriander, and a hard
pulpy substance called tamarind that I
soaked in hot water and used only the juice.
It was a giant Middle Eastern stew.
It was half science and half art.
It was math at its best,
generally, I despise math.
It smelled so foreign and exotic,
it contrasted with the wife and 2.3
kids placed neatly around the dinning room
table, waiting on
the finishing touches,
sprigs of fresh
cilantro tossed atop each bowl.
An Indian bread called naan was dipped
in the stew—it was wonderful, amazing.
The wine—smiles—laughter,
I can still smell it and taste it.
And now,
on lonely winter nights,
my take-out tandoori chicken
smells like a T.V dinner.
Nikkie Jan 30
"O"
So long since I had you, you used to ease into me,
slowly, up my legs you crept. Slashing into my
native origins, you made me moan, you made me wait.
I used to rush you, then again, slow you down. I haven’t
felt you in a very long time. I miss you; I need
you to ease into my loneliness. I need you to thrill me.
I want to feel you again, over and over and over.  

It used to take a long time for me to feel you. Since I
haven’t had you, the wait is nerve racking. The wait is
increasing my desire for you. I don’t want to be insistent
but come to me. In the middle of the night, in the light
of day, when the sun is shining, when the storm is
brewing.

I want you in me, I want you now. I want you to know
that it’s hard to live without you, it’s not easy having
to do without.

I dream about you sometimes, I miss you ‘cause I can’t
catch you like I used to.  I get a taste of you only when
my memories return. Last but not least, I want to feel
you again. I want and need you.  I want you to smash
my body with an explosion that I will never forget.


I want you to assume the position and hit me with your
best shot.  Knock on my doors, I will let you in without
a doubt.

Come to me, will you please hurry!  I’m waiting for you to
re-enter my world. I can’t wait any longer, I have to
have you. I need you inside my world. Here I am, let’s
get it on. I need you, I want you, and I’m ready….

Dear ******!
Theanm Ankh Jan 5
She lives in a world
Where the rich stay rich,
Get richer.
The poor stay poor,
Get shot.

She is in the middle,
Knocking door to door.
Take me in, take me home
Make me your home.
Get lost.

She wants to ink her life out, in dramatics.
Wants it made on screen,
Because no one reads ink, anymore.
An impossible dream.
For without ink reading, there will be no screen.

In the middle
No one knows
Who they are
No one knows
Who you are.
Now get lost.
MAKE YOURSELF by Traveler has been trending for more than a month now.
Kristin Dec 2020
Bankrupt of his majesty
the would-be, could-be king
falls into a paunchy old age
Quite literally

He was young once
the would-be, could-be mogul
fell into addiction, hard times
Quite typically

Now hobbling into oblivion
the would-have-been, could-have-been
falls for a younger princess in her thirties
Quite predictably

Standing taller
his would-have, should-have, could-have
falls away in the reverie of romance
Quite nicely for a time

Until his old habits hurt her
his should-be-s apply to her
falling in love hurts them both
Quite a bit

She was young once too
a would-be, still could-be
falling into the trap of thinking time is scarce
Quite often

She's teetering on oblivion
the would-have, could-have, should-have
falling for the allure of what-is-not
Quite hard

A patch of gray hairs dust her widow's peak
would-have, should-have covered them
falling in line with what's expected
Quite easily

Bankrupt of her majesty
the would-be, still could-be queen
rises into a vulnerable middle age
Quite determinedly
Ariana Solo Nov 2020
If women are from Venus 

And if men are from Mars

We both need to make a move

To meet each other in the middle

On Earth

♀️♂ ♀️♂️♀️♂️♀️♂️♀️♂️
Men and women are from distinct planets—men from Mars and women from Venus

- John Gray

♀️♂️♀️♂️♀️♂️♀️♂️♀️♂️
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