Chloe 5h

Pink Hotel

and behind some bitter, white picket fence
she sat
actually, she stalled.

Tapped her feet on the pavement, cuddled the curb in her ripped dress.
She wore pink in her hair,
little slivers of an innocent, chapped lip.

a dying pink.

The fence creaked with the interrupting wind.
and she stood, danced across the street.

cracked hands gripping frigid door handles,
come on in.

Torn garments, wisps of pink flying from her head,
she felt pretty in pink,
third grade, mother-just-bought-a-new-bow pretty,
innocent, dad-bought-me-glittery-shoes pretty.

Painless pretty.
Sane pretty.

No more
he-just-wants-to-see-me-bare pretty,
he-gives-me-lots-of-drinks pretty,

Worthless pretty.
Lost pretty.

Pink matter that drips onto a glass floor,
everyone can see through it,
through her.

What is it, woman?
she gave her hand to a solo cup,
So alone.
Pink drink, it’s good for you,
good to me.

To the third floor,
and lay down.

do you like the pink?

He always said I looked good with pink.

-C.M Aldecoa

Living in a college town, I notice how many girls use cosmetics, fashion, alcohol and drugs to express themselves. Even the darkest parts. And how easy it is to stick to bad habits that hurt you in the end. Pink Hotel, in all its metaphors, revolves around this "pink hotel," pink being this representative color of innocence, of what beauty should be. A color that attracts girls, which is why the hotel is pink. A welcoming home for girls that allow themselves to be dazzled and used by men that see them as just the color pink, and not for who they are. A sad truth, but the truth.
zebra 3d

two ladies
dressed to kill
give me a shiver
give me a thrill

they kiss each other
their mouths pink and bright
tender and cruel
a kiss then a bite

breasts brush soft
vulva's get wet
hands grope panties
drools like a pet

nipples explode
spasms and creams
hands touching thighs
sizzling dreams

oh they love
all candy and cum
shadowed eyes
lips like rum

ones a slave
the other her queen
then they switch
kiss and scream

its hotter then hot
a burning cunt sun
melting butter slits
a tempest of fun

doing the rumba
pretty dance feet
swaying hips
gawd its sweet

lovely behinds
moving in place
what i want always
is booty mouth face


The midwestern part of earth,
Litters leaves in scarlet.
I’ve found myself faded grey,
turning to a golden eclipse.
What truly makes one good?

Perhaps, I couldn’t see the good within myself
or amongst others- So I found my own good intentions
in no longer being a burden.
The veins in my wrist
were to be met with hemorrhaging arteries.

I’ve found myself on that waterbed,
the room with limited space.


Is the universe perverted,
When I’ve heard the harsh cackle from the stars,
and the sky is cracking jokes
at the expense of suffering.

I’ve not found the answer to any questions,
I’ve asked these past years.
those hours remained hollowed in the rings of my mind-

The threads loose on my sweater,
undone by a school boy’s twiddling thumbs.
Microscopic “No’s” trapped in my throat.
an amoeba compared to what filth rests on my skin.

Once more, rain sloshes down in acidic puddles.
Had god cried when he knew,
so many flowers forced to bloom?

In the garden of girls forgotten.

The warm blood that courses through my veins,
lacks the creative drive to weave,
daisy chains for a loss of innocence.

Pretty self- explanatory.

One morning I held a funeral for no one else to see;
Laying in my full sized coffin I mourned the loss of me.

When I left my body and I scrubbed away my sin;
Took one last look down at my shell- now tired, worn, and thin.

I'm lost now in an empty hall of a haunting memory;
An in between, my own little hell, of his smile following me.

this ones new- rhymes?

I know it's hard for you.
I know you try but you can't possibly understand what it's like to have the weight of someone else hold you down and pull consent from your lips like the lyrics of their favorite song.

I sat in the shower until my skin itched and burned a smoldering red and the water ran cold because all I wanted was to feel CLEAN again.
I packed up everything I loved and drove hundreds of miles to feel SAFE again.
I will not lie to you...... both of those things have yet to happen.

And I know it's hard for you.
Because you are strong and people believe what you say.
You have never had to defend your innocence and purity.
You never had to defend what you were wearing. Even to bed.

So I understand what you mean when you tell me it gets better.
But YOU don't actually know this.
You don't know what it's like to wake up every night from the same nightmare.
Sweating and crying because for some reason yo think he's still there.
The weight of his body holding you down and drawing consent from your lips like his favorite song.

I know it's hard for you.
But have you ever considered that it's harder for me?

I've been hiding these sensitive poems so here they are I guess
Sayer 7d

Jesus Christ
what's it like to have you heart broken
and your mind spoken for

Jesus Christ
what's it like to love a song for so long
just to know it was a lie all along.

Jesus Christ,
Do I get to live forever, together
with the ones I love most?

Jesus Christ
am I a trial, am I a triublation
a meandering stipulation?

Jesus Christ
Are you there
it's me
Disgusted by my idols

Jesus christ
burn me across these fields of gold running across these easy moving mountains and make me wonder how I even got in this place
a disgrace makes me puke listening to my old favorite song
i have loved you for so long
i wish you were dead instead

To Lacey.
Amanda Nov 7

i can't write anymore.
i go fishing for words in a dried up lake
and lose the thoughts at the sight of you.
you envelop even the empty spaces, of course
when i can't write i think of you.
i think it's because I know it will never be as beautiful.

this will be my downfall
the thunder in my head
has struck the trees
and the leaves
fall to the ground
from its quake.

it disrupts every
fucking aspect of my
life. my spine
shakes at your power,
my shoulders slump
at your warmth. your
hands have stripped every part of my
identity. you rebuild
me again. I cannot
write because your eyes
don't allow me.
your lips are
my prison and my liberation

your hand around my throat is your claim and my closure
i know you never wanted to posses my and my dirty soul
but truly i am nothing without your tightening grip
just a pet to your words your voice your body
it is all I am.
I cannot write for I am no long a being.
Just the creation of a God.
just a babydoll who listens
a girl who obeys
a child with closed eyes

is this love
or is this rebirth

im a little fucked up over this
Katie Nov 6

I can't be who you want me to be.
You see, I'm just me.
I tried to be what they wanted of me.
But my soul, it was dying.
You don't get to call the shots that way.
I have this life to live.
It's beautiful & painful.
And it's mine.
My life.
My choices.
I've been silenced.
But guess who's learning to speak up now.
Oh darling.. speak your truth even if your voice shakes.
You don't owe anyone anything.
Love that unique being that you are.
You are good just as you are <3

Finding my voice after being silenced about sexual abuse.
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