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Katie Sep 16
Edges.
I'm rough around them,
Or maybe they're rough around me.

I'm not the kind of edge
With a "-y" tacked on like an afterthought -
The same kind every generation claims sooner or later,
Accompanied by cries of "It's not a phase, mom!"
Trademark layers of black clothes, tattoos, piercings
And the same five indie-rock songs
Everyone knows the lyrics to
Because we all blasted them on repeat once;
Screaming PG-13 swears at the mirror
While applying too much makeup
And dying our hair for the umpteenth time
With the same nihilistic rebellion as our peers.

No, I'm the kind of edge
You find in a well-loved novel -
Weathered and dog-eared and a little bit torn.
Perhaps my margins are scribbled in,
Filled with notes or doodles or both
Courtesy of the readers who came before me;
Those who loved me enough to remind themselves
By adorning my pages with words of their own.

I'm the kind of edge
You avoid on a gravel road -
The one that'll throw you for driving too close to it,
Especially when it rains,
As if to say "I told you so, city boy".
The thin veneer between highway and wilderness
Abloom with weeds and wildflowers;
Just beautiful enough to notice as you pass by,
But of no special importance all the same.

I've never been a concise person
(That much, at least, is true)
But if I were to summarize
This small essay I'm calling a poem,
I'd say it's pretty clear:

I'm the kind of edge
That isn't really an edge at all -
In other words, I'm soft.
One ***** cocktail and
Two games of pool
Taking treasured walks
our hands entwined
Sharing our precious time

Stealing glances in your sapphire eyes
You stared into my fire
Plant your protection onto me
Waiting for our souls to entwine
Our bodies fill with adoration

For we deserve and desire

To always remember
We are destined to be
A night we spent you and me
On a crescent moon
Forever, and for eternity
Written for someone who no longer exists
i'm picking my nails at the dinner table
thinking of ways to tear myself apart
wondering if you'd even agree with me right now
if you'd be proud of me
or are you yelling at me from wherever you are

i'd like to think you're somewhere nice
in a pool where the water is crystal clear
sipping something strong and watching me ruin my life

sometimes i'd rather you turn the tv off and throw the remote

this show ***** anyway
how long can you really watch me dissociate? I've been here for hours.
A summer experience, all the time while
the kisses were bright—in warm regards.
The careless fall; we'd spring up a conversation
on talking about love. And how you fell for my
charms.

Retracing scars of past loves, (so few actually)
still I've been gunned down by such a handful
of quests. You'd see those marks on my arms.

By far—I'm no perfect romantic. The type to
chance his chances of the first awkward advances.
My wit to say, only comes out of less pressuring
moments. To impress you only when we've known the
shape of each other's humour.

I was a late bloomer. The sort of nerdy kid, throughout
school. Constantly anxious to impress a design on; as
a daily tool. And as usual, too full of myself thinking
I was overly too cool. But really just full fled fool.

So when we met, it was my season of necessary
growth, in the journey of my life of a revelation's show.
Questioning self worth, the ways of the world, and
YouTube videos of how to kiss a girl. And the highest
being what is means to be a man. Soft with the emotions
compared to others, and finding it hard to fit in with their
clan.

Before you met me, I was teased for walking like a
duck. Yet you told me I walk with such confidence,—
but I was a chicken towards standing out, that you could
hear a cluck in my gulps. I'm still the type to start a
conversation with, "what's up"

As being up to no good with other people my age,
but none at the drinking age of the clubs we snuck in.
Still at an early stage, I learnt I wasn't that big on going
out clubbing. But a few drinks at home, good food for at
home and sometimes drinking alone was more my norm.

Before you met me, it was what you'd call my BC days.
Still I went to church from a young age, but the Lord
wasn't the first call to hard situations. Or even ending
my prayers with a, "in Jesus name"

I'm still learning more about myself present day,
and that's okay. Because the learning experience never
ends until we're dead. So there's more to my story by
every new turning page. I might seem strange, but all
in all—I'm glad of the person I became. And the After is
beautifully being discovered today.

             I'm glad I discovered you.
Elise Jackson Jun 10
you come around when i least expect it
or maybe when i need you the most and don't want to admit it
i miss you whether you're here or not

it's like you appear behind a passing citizen
and watch me look at you through a crowd of people
and i notice it faster than i should admit

and i want nothing more than for you to approach
to ask if i'd like a cup of coffee
to have a conversation

you disappear just as fast as you've arrived
already leaving me with finding the answers myself
my jaw aching with things i never got to tell you


your legacy is the only one i'd be willing to uphold if you leave
even if it's short notice
or something you've prepared for
i have a sinking feeling that it's something you've prepared for.
Kassan Jahmal May 30
Mmmm....

The oak is strong; as it must be from cutting words,
Tough skin and brave,
Calm handed and determined,
Bright smile and focused,
Wise eyes and ownership; life does require this.

You are strong—but not like gods,
You are strong—but not like machines,
You are strong—but not like currencies,
You are stronger when you choose to...

Grow in the winds, rooted in time,
And fruitful of a cooling love under shade.

I am a Great oak.
really just needing to put my thoughts down somewhere -

I've only ever wanted to lead a quiet life,
I've found peace and comfort in being a homebody. I'm an introvert but I cherish the time I get to spend with the people in my life and they make my world so bright and I will never be able to put into words how much appreciation I have for them.

Identity is a sacred thing, because at the end of the day it's the lens that you see life through.

Remember that. When you wake up and you sort through the sea of thoughts and emotions, you get to stretch and feel complete and you taste that first sip of water that starts your morning... in those little bits of your day where you feel at home, you feel like you...

it's your life, it's your identity and you should never have to defend that.

But for the ever loving **** neither should I.
Now...

I can't sleep; because of it.
I can't wake up happy; because of it.
I can't breathe; because of it.
I can't move; because of it.
I can't eat; because of it.
I can't live; because of it.
I can't make new friends; because of it.
I can't be alone; because of it.
I can't deal with large crowds; because of it.
I can't be me; because of it,
But I'm not defined as a person; because of it.

I'm not worthless; because of it.
I'm not weak; because of it.
I'm not a fool; because of it.
I'm not an outcast; because of it.
I'm not less of a dreamer; because of it.
I'm not the only one suffering; because of it.
My life's struggles may be the cause of it,
But I'll do so many things because of it.

I'll choose to push on; because of it.
I'll choose to smile; because of it.
I'll cry at night sometimes; because of it.
I'll constantly be inspired; because of it.
I'll craft masterpieces; because of it.
I'll comfort others in the same boat; because of it.
I'll continue to be the advocate for change; because of it.

And my depression is the cause of many things;
all the good, bad and moderate.

As all you see of me; is because of it.
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