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Le Lotus Nov 2016
Flush cheeks
And tongue tied
When I see you

Eyes on ground
Nervous beating heart
When it comes to you

Do the same happen
to you?
I love you
Jellyfish Nov 2016
A tear finds its way down my cheek
I smile and hide my face in a pilllow
It's been a somewhat long week
But now that it's coming to an end
And I know what's about to happen...
It's becoming so difficult for me to stay calm
Because my heart is turning to liquid.
Your voice simply melts it,
I can't begin to imagine how I'll react in person,
I'm nervous...
But I'm excited too.
There's no one else I'd rather be with than you.
Jellyfish Nov 2016
5
My face hurts from smiling
I just can't stop.
The things you say to me
Make my heart throb.

I can't tell if I'm nervous,
or happy or both
But I do know one thing,
Our love will continue to grow.
Don't look at me ><
Vampi Fallborg Nov 2016
When I look into her utterly sad,
nervous eyes
my vision goes into bright sand.
I only see her face as she becomes as tiny as she feels
in my eyes.
She takes the shame that is not hers.
I'm nauseated.
Elaina Oct 2016
The mix of life.
For most,
you don't get what you want without feeling anxious, nervous,
and excited.
These feelings
help make the achievement
of what you want
even sweeter.
Lila Valentine Oct 2016
I get butterflies when I see you
But they're not peaceful, content to merely flutter around
in my stomach and
make me nervous.
No, these butterflies are aggressive ,
Unsatisfied with staying inside.
These butterflies demand to be released from the prison
of my larynx.
These butterflies travel up to my lips and force their way out in the form of stupid little phrase and mumbles and stutters.
Only when they're outside do they realize they should've stayed
trapped.
Their wings brush my eyelids and lower them.
They crowd down my throat, tightening it.
Only when they're safe inside
Do I dare look up once more.
It's a relief to see you laugh it off, ignore it
The butterflies calm, waiting for another moment to rebel.
Another poem I wrote for the coffeehouse at my school
Man crushes ****
Isabella Rossi Oct 2016
I tried on the dress I wore last prom

And I panicked

I didn’t even wash it after that night

For fear of it getting ruined

Fear 
Anxiety 
Nervousness
They’ve stained it

Not even Oxi-Clean could get those out


That dress was already tight as is

Black and suffocating
I was a wreck that night

Full of fear, anxiety, and nervousness


It spilt from my sweat-glands, I stained it
I tried on the shirt I wore in September

And I was hopeful


Of course I washed it after that evening

I bathed myself too
Hope 
Love
 Safety
They’ve stained it


Not even Clorox could get those out

That shirt was tight and revealing as is
Vulnerable and mustard yellow
I was happy that night


Full of hope, love, and safety 

It spilt from my sweat-glands, I stained it
With these two pieces of clothing
 on at once

Six stains are upon me

Fear, anxiety, nervousness, hope, love, safety

I fear that it could end, I hope that it will not
A day off from school, and nothing to do.
So here goes nothing, another letter to you.

words uttered and regretted
but silent still-
just ghosting by,
leaving no kind of trail.

a series of letters,
you somehow bother to read.
a lack of responses,
to which I have "no need".

A dull sort of pattern:
lines and spaces-
ink and not-
yet with so much meaning,
that the world has forgot.

still, they drift off
some grow heavy, and sink straight in.
reluctantly fleeting,
cover blown.
Whispers heard.
All senses now, on full alert.
Wanting a reply, but not at such a cost.
Knowing I am undeserving,
yet deserving of all the loss.

A dull sort of kindness.
an unsugarcoated truth.
I can't help but wish,
I wasn't a disappointment to you.

I can't help but bother,
wishing you wouldn't even dare.
giving words such meaning-
even words such as "care".

I am a sad kind of poet-
yet most never know it.

Just that kid in the corner.
dark room,
never known her.

Others, how they claim to know me-
But my sculpted facade,
hand designed-
by the clear streak of tragedy.
that is all they see.

Center of attention.
laughed at, and never with.
Respect my form of hiding.
It is all I have left.

Shape me, & mold me.
ground me down-
stand me up-
Dusted remnants standing still.
Blinks and stares,
tear through the silent air.

A shake of annoyance.
A twist of my neck.
"can't you see this isn't you?"-
"how dare you think like that."-

You're right.
It's not me.-
As cliché, as that may be.

A puppet at your service-
Fix the outside.
Top performance so they say.
But just one look inside,
and not a single light of day
rusted metal, grit, & oil.  

Fix the strings,
of most importance.
Once broken, soon brand new.
Nice firm tug.
just to Test Performance-
Aesthetics
Appeasing Quality
Of course, Don't you see?

Why of course not,
I would never hurt you.

Tug 'n tighten. Pull the cord.
until the collar stills no more.
Too numb to feel it, Tired & Tried.
Drug back against my will-
Fighting just to close my eyes.

One door closes, another one opens.
keep them both closed.-
Can't you listen?
Too much noise.
I can't stand it.
The door stills. Oh, for a moment-
but is yanked free.
The laws of nature,
so kindly ignoring my only plea.

Reality's firm grip on that cold handle.
Never giving.
Never quelling.

The only note of my existence,
forcing me to note such memories.

They flood back in,
through hidden doors.
Seeking refuge,
from places once stored.
The door always locked-
.. oh so long before.
Now open, mocking.
Here to settle the only score.-
The only thing bothered to be accounted for.

Revamp this puppet,
play my strings.
Gears groan from overuse.
Oil thinning, straight to thin.
Disappearing from existence,-
getting lost too deep within.
Gears grind in dissatisfaction.
Angrily forced to play along-
with such a sad,
unheard,
unforgiving song.

Giving in. Giving up.
Finally, to the abuse.
Just my luck, so lost and alone.
Doing this all, on my very own.

Don't touch me.
I can't take it.
Dizzied from the noxious fumes-
the memories spit back,
toxic to my wounds.

Never resting
always scared
of what lurks "right over there".
Childish fears never quite disappeared.
Gruesome company.
to one already so lonely.

So she slips down the hallway,
hair covering her eyes.
Nervous & skittish,-
Her hearing on overdrive.
One last glance over her shoulder
before slipping just inside
Sliding down,
echoes resound.
Cold tile, sniffling nose.
Vaguely aware of the chill spreading in her toes.

Arms crossed tight, protecting what's left of within-
Reminiscent, barely so
of just one missing, true friend.

Finally safe, my breathing escapes.
paper full,
pen in hand,
smears of ink-
just some peculiar squiggles.
Lines stilled, spaces dots
Dashed & Dotted.
Ink & Not.

My mark on this world,
One that can't be forgot.
Time frozen in place-
A gift for me, that you can't seem to see.

You walk right on past.
Reluctantly so,
sneaking glances through the glass.
Everknowing of my presence,
& that I hide myself away.
To you it is a dark corner.
Not a haven, a place to gather my thoughts.
Sorth them out & string them along-
until I reach the coherency of a single thought.

Peace at last,
my mind can rest.
Demons at bay,
no silent regrets.

Oh me?
I'm just that kid in the corner.
Dark room,
you've never known her.

A sad poet I may be-
But sad to you, isn't sad to me.
A mere relief.
My saving grace.
Just one of the pieces, I choose to embrace.

But that is that.
And I am me.

not quite as wrong, as the world fathoms me to be.
Really long. I'm sorry. had a lot to say.
Ravanna Dee Sep 2016
My body's but a host for all my many thoughts.
They get stuck in my veins when trying to reach my heart.
My lungs squeeze them in and out as they slowly struggle across,
My windpipe made of words to slip past my lips of art.
They crash around my stomach when I'm nervous or excited.
Causing little fights with sentences that get scrambled in my throat.
And I'm certain behind my eyes you'll see them messing around- delighted,
As they switch and mix up words to create new poems and quotes.
Inside my body is but a container of all my favorite things;
Lungs made of fairy tales and muscles made of fire,
Vessels made of children's laughter and bones made of wings...
Beneath my skin lives a world of all my many thoughts.
And I’m sure they would frighten and confuse all those who saw.
So I do my best to keep them hidden with my human attire.
For if no one sees what I am then people can't so willingly withdraw.
It's difficult to show people who you are inside when you fear they won't like what they see...
Lila Valentine Sep 2016
There--she's standing right there.
Just do it. Just say it.
Deep breath. It's okay.
"Hey so I know we've talked and stuff and I know we're just friends and I KNOW we're really different but....I like you and...I...I mean....forget it."

No. The nerves come again and
I leave her standing there.

And another day will pass, and a week, and a month
And even if I've recited it so many times in my head
I never tell her because it feels so wrong

Because every time I've done it before in the past
We grow more distant than
before.

So I'll leave her be and wait quietly on the side
Hoping....that, for once, she'll come for me.
So I wrote this in like 15 minutes about the girl I like lel
Don't judge to harshly
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