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zb 12h
you took your thumbs
and brushed them over
the bruises nestled above my cheekbones

my eyes, half-closed, but so bright
because the warmth of your palms on my face
kept me from losing my mind

i'm so tired
my fingers, my brain, my soul
i'm so tired but you still hold me
Four girls sit cross-legged
On cold pitted concrete
It’s always cold here
Their rear-ends frozen
Bare ankles growing sore
Pouring over textbooks
Finishing today’s homework or

Hope there’s no pop quiz.
They nod
In unison
I didn’t study
Neither did I
The other two stare
At their books nonplussed
Their papers scattered, a ruler and a pen

Out of the library and into the cold arrives
The fifth
She looks about and sees
A grey curl
A long head
A heavy tail
It’s soft, someone thought, as she saw the raised leg

Which came down fierce like lightning,
A defiant, queerly polished white saddle-shoe
One of two strange shoes
That looked like no one else’s but why?
Flattened the entirety into the cold, cold concrete
The meteorite that destroyed a species of one.
Conjoined twins, now dead

There’s no way we can repair it
Can’t even peel it away
The custodian will have to scrap it off with a blade and wash it down

We laughed
All but one.
At quiescently frozen pace,
Lay my mind
Absolving itself of all wandering thoughts
Crystal clear to make sure these few anecdotes that i now behold
Etch in and last
A kind of symphony that even Rhythm cannot surpass
Joe Aug 28
I cannot stand Biology
It's the worst of all the "ologies."
There's so many terms to memorize
That my brain is about to Ionize!
I envy all of the cell's abilities,
(Oh how life has so many ironies!)
If I held the power of Phagocytosis,
(Even the word is so sadly atrocious!)
Then all those terms I'd consume,
And never again I'd assume
Anything to do with Biology!
This poem doesn't flow as well as I'd like, but I think it gets the message across.

Constructive criticism is always welcome!
           I m naman nagar , i m indian from utter perdash . I complet my 12th class . I am studying in LAW (5 YEAR). My instagram id - @namannagarhere  & my fb id - namannagarhere
My intro my life
Terry Collett Jul 10
He noticed you'd
cut your blonde hair.

Turned away from him,
he noticed it
from the rear.

You busy
making coffees.

He stood watching,

There was talking
from the cafe;
people moving
to and fro,
coming and going.

He noticed how slim
your body was,
how thin your arms,
delicate your fingers,
moving at their task.

He studied you
as you turned;
took in your pale features,
icy blue eyes,
the thin pink lips.

Now full on
you looked up
to gaze at him.

He flustered
pretended indifference,
but inside he glowed
like a pokered fire.

You turned away
to make more coffees
and he taking his
on a tray,
sat quietly
not far away.
Rachel Watson Jun 28
If I don't get an 'A' will you view me the same; an intelligent girl who will accomplish great things?

Will you be let down?
Expectations crumbling to the ground,
like a majestic castle
once standing tall,
now barely seen at all?

Will you envy the gold in my peers' hand, while I hold the bronze?
As they get the roses and I the thorns?

If I don't get an 'A' will you view me the same?
Or will you be ashamed?
Mica Kluge May 10
See her? With the impeccable taste in fashion?
She's top of her class in calculus. You probably didn't know that.
See him? With the fearless glint in his eye?
He's studying science, but he has the soul of a poet. Tests lie.
See her? Buried behind a stack of books nine tall and three deep?
She's terrified that she'll get a B, because, to her, that's failing.
See him? Museum-quality doodles and red ink decorate his papers.
He'll be president one day, if he can find something that he loves.
See me? No, actually you probably don't see me. Why would you?
I've managed to dangle from the rim of the outskirts of life so far.
Someone once told me that seeing gifts is a gift itself. Maybe it's true.
But, didn't they ever tell you that geniuses doubt themselves, too?
That we doubt ourselves most of all?
Your story is just as important as the ones all around you.
zb May 4
broken earbuds and
torn-up hightops and
dented dreams of a better life,
i long to find myself
in the words i write and the images i see
in the dark, in the moment
before i lose myself to sleep

my blurry eyes
find the outline of the stars, shining
and bright even as I
fight to stay awake.

what will i dream tonight?
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