awesome party
social frenzy
there's mackenzie,
nobody likes her

making secrets
breaking memories
until morning
or until they're mourning

post your sadness,
that'll fix it.
hope you see this.
see how good it is?

take pride in Your Mistakes
these things never fade
can you even remember
what we did yesterday?

i think i've forgotten
my name.
You give me feelings that no other girls do.
I still have not yet gotten over you.
But I know it cannot be,
You get bored and you leave.
You would think I would have had my cue.
Why does my mind do what I clearly don't want it to?
Is young love real, or only an illusion?
Or maybe lust is all it is.
I feel the pain of confusion.
Someone I don’t have but seem to miss.

I really don’t understand love.
“You’ll know when it’s right.” they say.
A flirtful push turns to a shove
and again, alone, I stay.

A glance, a grin, an adorable nudge,
That little sniffle laugh you do.
But for some reason yet, you will not budge.
I hate myself for falling for you.

Sometimes I hope you think of me,
As often as I think of US.
A sad ending for me this may be,
For I think I have fallen in lust.
My first piece. Hard to put what I feel into words. I want to work on moving toward flarf while keeping the emotion.
How can you stop
yourself from falling
when there's nothing
holding you back?
brown-eyed boy,
you haunt my dream
with your golden gleam

brown-eyed boy,
i wonder if your touch is as soft
as the way you lay your eyes upon me
       [like i was fragile glass,
        and a simple whisper
        is enough to shatter me]


brown-eyed boy,
you’re neither the blues
of the deep abyss
or the viridescence
of oak leaves

brown-eyed boy,
you’re the soil nourishing me
all the riches of this earth
the oxygen i breathe

and brown-eyed boy?
loving you is like
overindulging in
honey
        [for you’re so sweet
        and who am i to resist?]

because there aren't enough poems in this world about brown-eyed boys, whose honey sweet eyes bore into your soul
Notice that girl.

Notice that girl who has her long hair left like an uneven tangled mess.

Notice that girl who keeps biting her nails even though they are short and brittle.

Notice that girl if she has water welled up in her eyes, all the time.

Notice that girl if she bites her lip a little too hard.

Notice that girl who has a pair of sweaters and sweatpants put on, often worn and slightly torn.

Notice that girl if she looks like a hot mess but still doesn’t care.

Notice that girl if she seems awfully anti-social, passive-aggressive, extremely fearful and isolated.

Notice that girl for the panic attacks she gets for no reason.

Notice that girl for her unusual affinity towards a good cup of coffee.

Notice that girl if she seems to be an insomniac and is awake drawing circles on a blank piece of paper regardless of 2 am or pm.

Notice that girl who seems to have been lost in her own thoughts even in the middle of a conversation.

Notice that girl who looks like she needs a hug.

And when you finally do notice her, hug her tight.

Hug her as if she was one of your own.

Trust me when I say she needs it more than anyone else.
"Sometimes a gentle hug is the greatest cure mankind can offer in a rather stressful world."
there was once a tale
of a boy worth living for
and a girl who looked like art

he whisked aside modernities
gifted her a cassette—
introduced her to
a library of hearts

unplugging her
from waves of calamity
submerging her in a world
with the credence
of musicality

his name was park,
and the girl he loved—
eleanor.

i could be your eleanor—
i'd carve black stars
in your daylight
i'd paint a vermillion sun
against your night

you could be my park—
tracing me with your starry eyes
weaving me the melody of the gods
each note a colorful lie

but i’m no eleanor
and you’re no park
just two lonely hearts
helpless in the dark

a cassette tape
playing on rewind
our love takes no shape
only the remains
of what was once
and could have been

after all,
my heart still aches
from the times
i reached over to rewind;
replaying the records
of when you were mine
     [but were you ever?]

for how could i pause?
how could i stop?
when you were the only song
i’d ever loved?

you said you were mine
but now that you're gone—
i'm stuck in rewind
nothing left to define

and though this is long overdue
every syllable remains true—
i wish i was your eleanor
[and i wish you were my park]
eleanor & park; you & i
tristia 5d
ana
often i find that i spend my nights
taking it all in.
this body is not mine.
it does not belong to me, it
hasn't for a while now.
she whispers sweet nothings in
my ear, i
fall in love with her pretty words.
each phrases leaves me stranded
at sea.
i have been brave before.
fighting back, taking her on
head first with self love.
i have told her to let me be,
tried shielding myself from her.
each time i find that i am
right back where i began.
back at her front door
i fling myself into
her warm embrace,
she comforts me.
tells me that it will be different this
time.
she will never hurt me again.
the language is all too familiar.
it starts only with a gaze,
protruding collarbones and a
visible spine.
this is what love feels like.
she says i do not need sleep
i can stay awake, i can dream like her
she will take care of me.
and as she leads me to the mirror
her voice feels like the broken glass shards,
"wouldn't you like to be beautiful again?"

this body is not mind.
it belongs to her,
it has belonged to her since the
moment i traded the fire in my
heart
for a thigh gap,
for vogue magazine and
afternoon fingers pushing down
my throat.
ana is not weak like me.
she moves with a certain
grace, marches to the beat of
beauty. moves quickly and
does not hesitate when treading
across bumps in the path.
she only grows stronger
while i grow sicker,
she dances with me.
she teaches me beautiful routines,
classic moves.
all these cotton balls
have become tasteless,
but she says i won't get hungry.
she sings beautiful ballads,
and as we waltz to the mirror
the tune is beautiful and deafening,
with fingers like
knives in my back
pinching at my skin,
"wouldn't you like to be beautiful again?"

this body is not mine
it does not belong to me.
i am only a shell.
my body is her cardigan,
lifeless, on the coat hanger.
my chest imprinted with her
name
spelled out with my distending ribs
i stare at myself
through broken glass shards.
and i look just like her.
i remind myself that this
must be what beauty is.
nails dirty and chipped
teeth rotten and hair,
almost gone.
skin beaten and the
color lost.
isn't this what i wanted?
wasn't i becoming beautiful again?
she tells me it's not enough.
ana has always been an amazing
painter,
she used to tell me that i was her
muse.
she made me feel wanted.
this time she shows me graveyards,
skeletons dancing alongside
her, lost souls like mine
who just wanted to be beautiful
again.

ana has tried too many times
before to drown me in misery
and guilt.
bile rising in my throat,
i have spent too many nights
wishing to wake up in someone
else's skin.
too many times i have been
convinced that i am less than whole,
only a shell.
i take my body back.
i tell her that i do not belong to her
anymore.
this body is mine.
mine to hold,
i look past broken glass shards.
i can see what is really there.
and this time,
ana's sweet sorrow is the weakest,
the most quiet whisper.
"wouldn't you like to be beautiful again?"
i reply.
"i already am."
you are absolutely ridiculous
i love it

you act like some tough, cruel, serious guy,
and then you draw a little cat with boots on a paper we shared.

it made me giggle.
which is rare these days.

you act so standoffish,
but really?
you're adorable.

i love it when:
-you break your serious demeanor to laugh at my childish joke
-you draw little animals all over my papers
-i see you looking at me when you don't think I'm paying attention
-when i steal your hoodies and all you do is laugh and say i look cute
-you lean on my shoulder during classes
-or play with my hair

it's not normal to fall this quickly,
but i think i could love you.
If you and I
are two pieces
of a same heart,
how am I supposed to hate you?
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