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Courtney O Nov 2020
Nymphets like me grow up,
and guess what?
I am not any scared or scarred
In a parallel world,
Angela invited Lester to her wedding day
and it's realer than death
There's nothing to heal - no sight of old pain

Am I really strong?
I am not sorry - I am not hurt
Even if I did break a few hearts
This nymphet got a job and she dyed her hair
She got to her destination -
but she's not done yet!

And I might have to leave
all of those nymphet, stylish things
no more daddies on the scene
but my inner fire still burns deep
let me resignify what I mean
when I wear my heart shaped glasses
when I feel all pink
that's eternal, it has no age or anything

It's true, I am not ******* anymore.
Isn't that a whole lot more fun?
I am a full woman now
and I am not backing down
(I always was this, waiting to come out)
So I look in the mirror,
and my inner nymphet eyes back,
"you're doing fine, I am proud of who you are"
Abby May 2018
they call me a nymphet
my narrow hips budding *******
my glowing skin rosebud lips
in the sun where i rest...
older women are fat and cold
with porous skin and dyed hair
they haven't their blades like gold
salient and bare
they haven't their thighs like ivory
of thin ivory are mine
i'm british and brattish
they're just fine
they call me a nymphet
with my schoolbag hanging
from my frail shoulder
decadent and delicate
please just for a while
not a nymphet
but a hurting child
Sharon Talbot Sep 2017
Favorite word: “nymphet”, but no!
Halcyon, a kind of drug, you know.
Searching through the pages’ mist
And imagined deeds
Of poets’ needs…
I found my favourite word,
As asked,
Neither sacred nor profane
That describes the Venetian rain
In my beloved’s eyes
And the Florentine sun upon her hair:
“Auburn, russet, mythopoeic”.
Oh, it is not fair,
To liken an object
Of my lust and love
To anything as mortal as autumn air!
Nor “October’s orchard Haze”;
She had her own
Inscrutable, premeditated ways!
Rather let me say that she was perfect,
Though her eyes, pale and myopic,
Her shuffling gait and
Graceless limbs, to them Grace lends
Fey charm, the power to mend
My suffering and
Delusions of a poet’s end
As anything but pathetic,
(Her mother’s fondness for vague emetics)
And I left softly hanging,
On a girl’s new taste,
A tang of russet apples on her face,
But no, not that, the sum
Of my love, My Lo!
Then her bleak demise, partly by my hand
That none of you brutes could understand;
The pure love,
So sadly consummated,
Between a lover
And the one she hated
Yet loved once with inexplicable delight,
On one stolen, frightened night…
In which the two of us agreed
To satisfy a simple, yet maniacal need,
And then depart…
But I could not,
You see;
She was my life,
My love, my heart.

Humbert Humbert 1950

Sharon Talbot ca. 2005
Obviously inspired by Vladimir Nabokov's controversial and perfectly written novel, ******. So many people fail to realize that, behind the monstrous deeds, there is a love story, however profane. Is it a tragedy? Perhaps. I just wanted to revel in some of Nabokov's prose and imagery, that changes so well into poetry.
Courtney O Mar 2017
****** grew up
she got herself a man
and a disability card
****** grew up
and she's not yours anymore

****** grew up
her life has changed
did you take advantage
not of her age
but of her winter?
Did you want her locked in your cell
was it convenient for you?
Well, the winter's gone
She's not the girl of your dreams
She's the woman of your desires

****** grew up
but always in your heart
always in my heart
the girl she was

but you can't take it anymore
the fact she grew up
it was going to happen
as soon as she left winter
and you were summer
but now the summer's burning
and you are not the flame

the beautiful, deadly winter
the place where she lived
the comfy, White walled, mind crowded Winter
where she still lives
but now put a handful of pepper
and a handful of flames!
would you take it better
if summer had a girls' face?

It was nice, keeping me in a jar
It was nice, helping me out
what were you?
a wolf? a friend? a ghost?
true love? My Humbert Humbert?
all of this? and even more?

Did you really know me
(because you do)
did we build something more
on Spanish lessons and kisses by wire
did I lead you on
well, I'm partly guilty
and not guilty at all!
we were friends! not lovers anymore!

****** grew up
but always in your heart
always in my heart
the girl she was

What light do you throw to yourself?
You are not guilty of your feelings
but you must abide...
I cannot, either, forget our past
But I must move on...

****** never grew up
but she's not yours anymore

Self explanatory.
Emma Hill Sep 2015
Older men drinking
They surround me want to be inside me I shrink away
I shrink AWAY
He tells me I’m beautiful says
You should be a movie star
He wants to ******* to a still of me on the screen
His wife sleeping in the other room
Men disgust me I wish I were dead
I wish I hadn’t drank so much
I smell like cigarettes my eyes burn
Don’t ******* cry don’t
Think of the way his hand on me makes my flesh curl
The one I love is gone he has always been gone
I’m in love with HIM
An older man he is off limits he can never be mine
I love him I know I am enough
He wants more than what she can be
That is me
Other men touch me and I want to flee
To flee into the arms of someone who has never held me
Outside of my dreams and confessions
I wish I could see more straight
I want to run away with him

— The End —