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Nicole Sep 2014
You have a leaf on your shoe,
I bet that was noticeable for you
By the time you got to my house I had the flu
Stuck in bed,
I have to fix what's inside my head
You're so nice to be around,
You make me forget my stomach hurts
Normally I would ***** at the sight of anybody else,
But I guess that's just because you're afraid of *****,
When people are much more terrifying
Rebecca Scull Aug 2014
My stomach tightens, my lips purse
My dreams are fading, I am cursed.

My hands shake, my eyes wake
My hopes are drowning, I am misplaced.

My legs are weak, my soul is free
My spirit is surrounding. I am grounding.

Prepare for landing, and then lift off.
Al Aug 2014
You meet "the one".
they make your stomach flutter
And your heart stop.
You look in their eyes and think
You're the one.
Time goes by,
He's not the one.
You leave.
You meet "the one".
They make your stomach flutter
And your heart stop.
you look in their eyes and think
You're the one.
Time goes by,
He's not the one.
you leave.
You meet "the one"...
Eleanor Rigby Aug 2014
It's funny how inhaling poison
can seem adequate enough
to fill up your time
and...
natural.

I do remember when your tongue
tasted like toothpaste and nicotine
and I ****** on it
as if trying to steal your pain away
and swallow it.
But all my stomach had to digest
was silent words
that I am still hungry for
and a desire
for you to stop hurting yourself
and me.

But all you do
is smoke one cigarette after the other
with such nonchalance.


F.Z.N
Unknown Aug 2014
Memories crumble to dust
Bricks of remembrance
Thrown angrily from the windows of my eyes
Shattering the glass seven floors up

At the bottom
The feet of those on the first floor
Had to walk on shards of regret
A treacherous, ****** movement
And in the end got no where
But back to the stained carpets
Screaming inside the walls
Of a house
Not a home

The second floor
Tenants fell to their knees
Begging for the first floor
To relax
The commotion was just
Too much too handle
Rattling the weakened, buckled walls

The third floor
They were frightened from the up rise of chaos
Got sick to the stomach
And doubled over in pained retrospect
Because they left their windows open
And swallowed air
Instead of pride

The fourth floor
Was broken beyond repair
Cracked right down the middle
Blood seeped from it's fissured walls
Like an arrow wound to the heart
Those inside sprawled in puddles of conflict

The fifth floor
Was out of bandages
For the fourth floor
They used them for mouth covers
So the sixth floor above couldn't smell
The lies on their breath

The sixth floor
Always did hold a nose in the air
But that couldn't hide them from trouble
They were stuffy, and often full
As though the tears that often ran down the bridges
Were more than the emotional pressures
They could carry at once

The seventh floor
Was tired of everything
Constantly red and with teary eyes
They stared down upon the whole scene
Disgusted with the image presented
So they threw the newest memories out
And watched them crumble to dust
Seven floors down
Lani Foronda Jun 2014
It's not as much butterflies in my stomach anymore.
They've migrated to my throat,
Choking me off.
I want to say something beautiful
Paint a picture of eloquence that would take your breath away,
But apparently I'm the one lacking air.
What used to fill my whole being with a flush anticipation
Has caused a fickle for my respiration.
Under the cluster of wings in my throat
I feel each movement-
The hum of so called life
(But will I still be living when I lack air?).
These butterflies have lone gone from wonderful and turned
Disastrous.
It makes me wonder how something so beautifully fragile could turn so
Deadly.
January16,2014/June24,2014
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