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preston 4d

Who you are as a person
and all the amazing things  
inside you
that are still so worthy
of my (or any one else's)
excavation
will never be replaced.

I know very well  that I will
never find a  replacement
for all the things whose sum,
clearly make you, you.  
Life is so much more
than the give and take  of
Love and support  
that can be found  sometimes
through online poetry.  
I only wanted to be friends,
beautiful-one..  
but I know that with you  it would
be difficult,  because

I see in you

so much more

than you are able   to see

within your own self.  

You never gave yourself
the chance
to find out
what it would be like
to be real-life everyday friends
with someone like me.
As long as I'm alive,
that chance will never be over
for you..  
I know that I will never   find
a spirit
such as yours
ever again.  

If you don't believe me, just look at  the words
your beautiful spirit has produced
throughout the years.  
That should tell you  everything
that your own self view
so adamantly refuses
    to allow you to see
    within your own self.

I see enough of the view  within you
for both of us.  
I know now that I always and forever will..  
even as absolutely frustrating
as your own self loathing
and self-induced fear
can sometimes be
for those of us who love you

          so very deeply.

The door will always open for you--
not because I am needy..  

       but because you are..
         and always will be
   so very much worth it.


every single day  is a brand new day. xo
❤🌷
sgail May 2019
weaving
in and out of short pines
a fly travels to the top of a mountain

while I stand in my underwear
and the incandescent

staring into a mirror, into a mirror
and on
as we all have.
Furey Apr 1
There are some days
I think to myself
I am beautiful

But most days I can't
Sometimes I catch
Just a glimpse

In the mirror is the girl
She is the one
I wish I could be always

She is graceful
She is beautiful
She is everything I want to be

I cannot look again
If I do I won't see her
I will only see me

It's disappointing
I can only see her
Just the single time

These days I don't
I no longer see her
I am no longer beautiful
Snipes Oct 2021
There’s no smoking mirrors
I know God speaks through miracles
I know God laughs through tragedies
We watch the low light time travel
While we question what’s really real
We plead to the Lord to finally reveal

I’m smoking my heart out
I’m drowning my liver down
I like too fill these mirrors with lies
It helps me live by
There’s no secrets to it
Only spirants
But my spirt spits
On spite type ****
If pettiness penetrates
Pennies pay no traits
Thats safe for the face
For a mischievous
Knock knock
I ain’t joking
Knock knock
A spare through the flock
I just might hit a strike
There’s no where to go for us so
I’ll lay a dirt blanket in warmth
For the cold hell that’s there
Death in patients
Death ain’t waiting
Death is great
Give me the green light
I’ll introduce you right
Knock knock
Brandon Diaz Sep 2021
Magic mirrors, Magic mirrors for sell.
These aren’t normal mirrors,
here’s how you can tell.

Don’t like your waist?
Look in the Magic mirror,
and it’s simply erased.

Any pragmatic problem with pimples,
Are seized, solved, and simple.

Any bruises, blemishes, or bumps?
No longer!
All it takes is an overcompensating ogle just once.

Don’t like what you see?
With this magic mirror you can see anything.

See the future,
See the past,
This magic mirror is something you just need to have.

They come small,
They come large,
This magic mirror can be yours for one small change.

Magic mirrors, Magic mirrors for sell.
These aren’t normal mirrors,
THATS how you can tell!

You wanna know where I got these magic mirrors…
Ok, but you can’t tell a soul…
Some say forged by a wizard,
Others say you have to **** a ten foot lizard,
Maybe in the depths of a tomb,
Perhaps 100 feet down in a dark deep room.

Or there’s a store down the road,
Selling normal mirrors for 2.99 a load.
Alexander Jul 2021
is it me
or her
looking in this mirror
Jme Love Apr 2021
Not bent
Not bruised
Broken
Together one minute
Shattered the next
Like a mirror
Showing a perfect reflection
It cracks
It breaks
Distortion is all i see
Or maybe its just the real me
Not bended
Not bruised
But broken.
That broken image is me
My reality
An unbroken mirror
Is an illusion of unreal reflection
Holding no truth
Showing not who i am
But what the mirror portrays ne to be
Jana Q Apr 2021
The toothbrush starts, “Enameled crooked crescents fence
a cavern filled by slimy growths and walls that tense.”

The towel ruffles, “Four protrusions rife with joints;
the fifth a rounded stump with sev’ral gentle points.”

“Agreed. The knobs and knuckles wear a supple coat;”
the loofah huffs, “it’s gritty, slick, and prone to bloat.”

The eyebrow brush retorts, “It’s two retracting domes
that cause a row of strands to flutter when one roams.”

“While ‘domes’ is right, I venture ‘jiggle’ as more apt -
along with perky, tapered tips.” the brassiere flapped.

The ****** giggle, “‘Bouncy’ could suffice as well,
but don’t forget the dampened folds and prickly swell.”

“Absurd!” exclaims the hairbrush, “More like brittle twine;
Entangled, oily knots that never quite align.”

“Not twine, but thistles bushing out in sweeping arcs,”
the razor sighs, “from paper that too clearly marks.”

A glassy voice laments, “Not one of them’s correct -
how easy this would be, if you could all reflect.”
Humor is so not my forte, but this was for the Day 3 prompt in SingPoWriMo, so I gave it a shot. It's about bathroom objects trying to describe their user. Critique is welcome!

Are the indirect descriptions easy/hard to understand?
Does the ‘twist’ at the ending work? Or just fall flat?
How long did it take you to realize what the poem is trying to do?
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2021
One night
I was a werewolf,
but that got out of hand.
One night
you were a peach,
but I preferred fresh
over canned.

The blood scent was strong
and on your collar,
or was it spaghetti sauce?
We meandered in
the lost city of angels,
but those women
in the maternity ward
were better shape-shifters.

Couldn't see if the moon
was full against
the polluted skyline,
(but I bet it wasn't).

Then somewhere
down the tracks,
the howler (that's you),
half a dream away
on some deserted block,
and flat on your back
like a pancake,
with the nightmares
stacking up,
and dripping
with strawberry syrup.

Or was it blood?
(I bet it wasn't).
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