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Abby May 10
16
I’m 16
Now what?
When I was younger I had this vision of what sixteen year old me would look like and I’m nothing like her
Sixteen year old me in her head was loud and fun
She would dance on tables at parties at two am
She would be dating the love of her life and have all the friends in the world
She would dress in the latest clothes and she wouldn’t be scared to tell somebody off and stand up for herself or her friends
But
Sixteen year old me currently doesn’t go to parties and is definitely not dating the love of my life
Im trying to stay up with fashion and I succeed sometimes
I will stand up for my friends just not for myself but I’m getting there
However I still feel like younger me would be proud of
16 year old me
Just some thoughts since my birthday was yesterday
lua Apr 28
16
the fear of growing up
the days have passed, too fast
the years swirl around me like leaves in the afternoon breeze
maybe it isnt so bad
but growing up means to see things as it is
to know things as it is
and to feel things as it is
maybe im too young
maybe im not young enough
to understand
but im afraid of growing up.
i turned sixteen back in late march. it was the loneliest sweet sixteen because of the quarantine but i dont mind. it gave me time to think of things.
ollie Apr 21
sixteen years old
experiencing things i didn’t know i remembered
like arguing and calls to police
hushed whispers and calling whoever you can
not for them to help
just to get some advice
you don’t want to be a burden
and finding things you didn’t know you wanted until you got them
falling
hard
for a girl you know shouldn’t belong to you
and thinking for the first time
that she is worth a broken heart
that you’ve had this chance before but never have you wanted it
she’s worth more than you think she understands
she makes you slow down in a way most people can’t
and i’ve got trust issues like anyone else
but there’s that captivating feeling in her
that made me trust blindly
from one spur of the moment conversation
you don’t understand
i’ve written poetry about my unrequited lovers before
never have i understood the way the reciprocation would make me feel
i’m stumbling in what this is
inexperienced
she’s pretending to stumble with me because she thinks i’m worth it
i’ve never felt more worth it
but she’s no klutz
she’s a catch
in a simple sense of perfection
i told her once that she was good
in the simplest sense of the word
that she was the idea of it, the concept of all things encompassing positivity
she lets me say things like this to her
and understands the power behind the words “thank you” when you don’t know what else to say
that it speaks volumes when you’re speechless
in a way that i don’t
i have this difficulty keeping my mouth shut
thinking before i speak
she has this way of making me think
usually on my feet
that she’s had from the moment i met her
long before i could predict that i would fall for her
long before i would be oblivious to her doing the same
i realized
this is going to end badly
i realized
one of us is going to come out of this very, very beaten down
and she has her way of making me think
i thought
and i concluded
if we must i hope that it’s me
because from the moment i met her
i knew we could bounce off of each other
in unspoken words and hand squeezes
from the first conversation we had i knew
this is someone you trust with your favorite book as soon as you meet them
this is someone who writes in it like you have
in a black pen
and as you’re reading it back
you realize you are falling for her in this unfamiliar way
that you want to hang on to every word she says
that you want her to know how much you don’t know how to put into words
you want her to know that you still remember what she was wearing the day you first met
and you thought “oh. she’s cute.”
and when you tell her this
you’ll laugh when she tells you she thought the same thing as you
that she knew this was inevitable
i know there’s a lot inevitable about it
but i hope i’m the one who ends up hurt
because this is selfish
and this is not fair to her
and despite that
i never want to see her broken
especially not in pieces that i don’t know how to fix
for now
i can try to put aside this idea of oblivion
and live in
live on
experiencing things with her i never knew i wanted to
and always, always wanting to make her laugh
showing her songs that look like her voice
the synesthesia makes it hard to convey
but it’s like paints on a black canvas
mostly this beautiful blue
with purple undertones
like their own variety of northern lights
when she laughs
this shot of neon green shoots through it
i don’t write poetry often anymore
but she’s worth another attempt at it
she’s worth everything i never knew i had
and i’m not in love with her yet
but i’m getting there
she sleeps in later than i do in the mornings
i’ll never show her this
but i’ll try to have something for her to wake up to
whether it’s a meme or a song or anything else
i must emphasize
she’s worth the time put into selecting it
for my birthday i almost got kicked out, but i also really really love my friends, who tried to make it better. only romance feelings are different than friend feelings, and i haven’t written like one of my long yearning poems in awhile. so. here’s some yearning, this time mixed in with some “she likes me back”. i’m gonna read this back in the morning and be like “oh yeah quarantine’s getting to you bro” it’s 1:30 am
Sweet Centerless Sixteen
by Michael R. Burch

Inconsolable as “love” had left your heart,
you woke this morning eager to pursue
warm lips again, or something “really cool”
on which to press your lips and leave their mark.

As breath upon a windowpane at dawn
soon glows, a spreading halo full of sun,
your thought of love blinks wildly—on and on ...
then fizzles at the center, and is gone.

Keywords/Tags: humor, light verse, sweet, sixteen, never, kissed, lips, lipstick, puppy, love, infatuation, flirt, flirting, short attention span
I prayed that you would show up for me
but, oh, what a foolish wish
my sixteenth birthday, not a word from you
not that it's your fault
you're busy
i get it
but god how i wish
i wasn't waking up from fifteen
the year i met you
the year you changed me
the year that belonged to you is fading like a sweet dream
you wished me into
each year before your's came and went
but your's lingered
before finally passing on
without words
with empty promises
fifteen went quietly
softly
unlike it came
unlike i am
as sixteen comes into its own
just so everyone knows, yes, he did end up wishing me a happy birthday.
ash Dec 2019
today, i wake up wearing an old band t-shirt and i’m sixteen again / pulling jumper sleeves over my palms / keeping my eyes on my feet / earphones in / willing myself invisible / refusing to step out of changing rooms in anything that clings to my skin / flinching from mirrors and cameras / nobody wants to stay too long at the beginning of a cinderella story / before the lenses and makeup and hair-flipping confidence / before the boys who call you a frigid ***** for expressing an opinion start to slide into your DMs / saying “hey, you seem cool, i’d love to hear you talk about feminism.” / but they’d love get you drunk first / love to get funny girl / cool girl / beer-pong and dancing on tables and witty comebacks / always-slipping-out-of-your-hands / let’s-tame-this-shrew-wild-girl / like yeah give this girl a stage but stop her if she makes you uncomfortable / we like a damsel-in-distress, big-blinking-eyes-trophy-wife / not the girl who stood in between her best friend and the ones who mocked her for her body / not the girl with bloodied lips instead of red lipstick / grinning, saying, “you’re going to have to go through me.” / nobody likes an ugly girl with a mouth full of words / so you learn to swallow them / be prettier, shinier, smoother / show them a piece of glass instead of dagger / lie in wait to turn the tables because you still remember / what it’s like to be sixteen and forced to look at your body as a liability / what it’s like to be sixteen and told your anger is embarrassing / just another teenage phase
Apporva Arya Jun 2019
I had self esteem,
When I was sixteen.
It left with my teen's.
This is happen when we start chasing wrong dreams and exhaust ourselves completely in them. Now past is all a mistake and nothing is even there to learn from it. I miss myself of sixteen.
DG May 2019
16
Nothing I have to be proud,
Sixteen candles, and one falls down
Sixteen dresses in that closet
I'm turning into one now.
Worn out,
Because I grew out,
I WILL shout
till I'm thrown
out.
A May 2019
once i was sixteen.
now i am seventeen.
i saw the word through a wild child's eyes.
careless.
not free.
but so carelessly free
i didn't care to be caught.
in those sixteen years
i learned that this world is a dangerous game.
no matter how you play.
let me live,
i would say
i played it dangerously safe.
meaning,
i took risks.
many of them.
maybe too many.
but i made it so
everything in the end,
would be as it was
before the risk was took.
this was supposed to be a poem about being sixteen
but last year for me,
was all about risk taking.
how dangerously **** life really was.
and if you experienced it right.
you're most likely wondering what all these risks were.
imagine.
what an innocent,
beautiful,
spirited,
little sixteen year old girl
could be getting herself into at her age.
A.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
In the motley woodland
Little that'll understand.
In four months
Rye ripens.

From squealing jigsaw
Dust settles.
Four carnations
Nailed to the keel.

Sixteen degrees.
Africa is warmer.
Sixteen erasers.
Darker hair.

In a freshwater lake
Usual trout.
In the March of the bulldozer
April is heard.
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