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Kitten Yvad Nov 2020
there is a thin sheet
Of ice well it just makes
your pretty eyes glisten


no less molten for it
rumbling listen baby listen
magenta lipstick with
opalescent blue shifts

cashmere in the amniotic dark

all the warm soft brown
in the world couldn't
blot out that cold sparkle hue
that magenta november pretty
glisten in you
fray narte Sep 2020
i am so tired of
my wrists being a battlefield —
the shrines for all the times i fell —
they all keep falling apart,
and nothing lasts long enough
for all these wounds
to turn into scars.

maybe the problem is that scars mean you're healing.
maybe the problem is that i'm not.

i have worn this skin away —
long shunned by softness
and each day, i cannot fathom how
i can ever manage to hold gentle things —
press them against my chest
when everything i hold
bleeds and breaks,
including me.

i wish my tongue was more made for poems
and not for dry-swallowed poppies;
the moon flinches at the very sight.

i flinch too.

and i am so tired of my entire skin
being a battlefield
when no one can see the casualties
buried quickly —
buried well.

and oh, what i'd give to be
soft enough to grow flowers on graveyards —
and soft enough not to break myself.
Cotton Candy Jun 2019
i let softness sit in my chest
cotton candy woven between ribs
sweet and light and a bit sticky to the touch,
hard to untangle oneself from

i let softness take a seat at the table
fold its hands in its lap
smile, nod, and listen with joy
such polite company, the kind you hope stays late

i let softness make its home here
to the best of my ability
welcome it openly and appreciate its presence
try and return its kindness
made this as my first poem hence my username lol,,, i'll try to write more often.
Michael H Jun 2019

Giving each other life
Closer and closer
Python in brains
Already there

Light blue
Animation with AI
Stark love

Reading fast
Choosing how human you are
Faux-morality dying
Meggie Delaney Apr 2019
That first night, I pulled out all the pulp of my swollen, pumpkin heart and showed it to you.
All full and wet and messy
You cupped in your hands the filling from your own heart
Much the same as mine

And we shared a likeness
Two souls born real and rich
Out of garden patch dirt
Full of gourds and crickets

I trusted your blossoms and your stems and your weeds
But you stowed it all away as suddenly as you came
And I'm still standing here
With all my stringy
Sopping soul
Charlie's Web Feb 2019
How many times must my fists smack your stiffness until you soften?

I don’t want to use my fists, I’m not violent.
Even in defense, words raised to take the hardness,
silently, repeat, repeat.
Raised to repeat, repeat.
I never wanted to be violent.

I don’t want to use my fists, but your stiffness is contagious.
I don’t know how to look at you without them,
smacking every corner, separating hard shells.

I don’t want to use my fists.
my hands,
They’re raw and dry, too sanitized.
and my shell is colliding, oozing, fermenting
into juices of the berries you forbid.
I don’t want to use my fists anymore.
My hands want to open, softly.  
Sweet unfolding fingers
offer demons blessed darlings.
Julischka Jan 2019
Can I be your bird?
I will sit on your shoulder
And whisper in your ears
My secret songs
So that nobody else hears
The softness of the air
Dancing through your hair

I will sing with my sweetest voice
Hoping your choice falls on me
And you don’t run away
Leaving me flying in the nothingness

Can I be your bird?
I will sleep on your nightstand
My head tucked under my wing
At the spot, your alarm clock used to ring
I will sing a secret melody
Bringing you remedy
In an early morning

I will sing with my sweetest voice
Hoping your choice falls on me
And you don’t run away
Leaving me flying in the nothingness

Can I be your bird?
I will patiently wait for you to finish
Your dish and leave bread crumbs
On your napkin.
Just let it be!
A drop of water from your glass
Will bathe me

I will sing with my sweetest voice
Hoping your choice falls on me
And you don’t run away
Leaving me flying in the nothingness

Can I be your bird?
I will nest on your chest
Build a home above your heart
So when I depart
And fly away in the nothingness
Your soul will remember a song she heard
Of someone who’s never been your bird
Raven Jan 2019
From the top of this mountain
I look upon the earth.
Everything seems so small
as the wind is stroking my skin.

All our problems,
As gravity looses it's grip on me
my worries fade away.

The wind is whispering to me,
begging me to follow its call.
Like a feather
it carries me away.
gracie Nov 2018
I hate this softness
that infests me to my core
pretty parasite
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