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Laura 5d
I don't know
If I'm just
Too afraid
To let you go
Because you're
Someone familiar
Or if
I truly can't
Let you go
Because I'm still
So very in love
With everything you are
But either way
You're breaking my heart
By not loving me back
By not wanting me
By leaving me so cold
And I never thought
That being in love
Would hurt so much
Lynnia May 22
Wretched voice
Boxed so thin
Rubbed-raw noise
Sandpaper skin
Beaten crest
Lasts for years
Naked nest
November tears
The season’s stall
Before the laughs
The worst of all
The **** path
A sun burned green
I waste away
While they all wait
For bright Friday.
“It’s a metaphor, Brian”
(I promise this actually makes sense to me at least)
(Extra double super hot chocolate brownie points to anyone who understands the quote reference)
Lilli Sutton Apr 5
I stretch out Thursday afternoon
until it is see-through at the edges.
I talked to so many people today
and all of them chanted: go west
but maybe that’s not what’s best for me.
Down south is crawling with ***** whispers
and I want to pull them out of the ground
and rinse them clean. Like vegetables
spread out on the kitchen table
in late September: orange and purple
and the scent of soil heavy
by the open windows.

At my aunt’s house,
as a kid, the mudroom was my favorite place -
transition point between low-ceilinged
dark and quiet inside space
and the impossible Vermont sky,
the chickens and the garden
and grass that sloped down to a valley
the size of my child fist. Sometimes in the evening
we’d see coyotes creep from the shadows
of the trees down below, or hear the foxes cry.
We would hike up the gravel road
and climb the mountain before the sun set,
scramble back down in the dusk.
I wish I remembered more
than just picking grass and slowly
splitting it into strips, to learn the way
my hands were capable of deconstructing.
But it came in useful later,
when we went into the woods
to strip the birch trees of their bark:
the best kindling for fire.

So smoke rises and chases us.
To keep the smoke away,
my aunt says, you have to think
about white rabbits. Little
does she know - my ideas
are always half-baked or burnt.
Never the way they should be.
So I do what I think I hear her say –
and I think about white rabbits,
covered in mud.
04.04.19.
Mustafiz Ray Mar 28
The Moon Shines Bright,

Throughout the night,

But everyone forgets the moonlight,

when the sun comes into sight,

The star blinks all throughout the night,

and hide away at the daylight.



The moon had a friend,

A naive girl with a heart of gold,

Use to look up to the big blue for days on end,

Throughout their friendship neither spoke,

The moon couldn't and girl didn't,

They had a mutual understanding,

Without chattering.



After a while the girl stopped looking up,

grown up and all wise,

The childlike wonder disappear from her eyes,

The moon had lost a friend,

To adulthood again.
This was my very first poem, thank you, to all of you for reading this, this poem is very close to my heart. ~ Ray
UA Jan 31
All it took was one push to cause me to fall...


But all it took was for me to fall for me to know that I could fly.
Haylin Jan 21
Monday
Oh how I dread you
Can you just go away for one more day

Tuesday
You could be anything or nothing at all
You're just Tuesday

Wednesday
**** DAY
I finally get to look forward to the weekend

Thursday
The day before Friday
Anything could happen, but it wouldn't count

Friday
The most annoying day because of Rebecca Black
But it means we have 2 days of no *******

Saturday
Thank you for no school
But sadly you go by too fast

Sunday
Ruined because you know tomorrow is Monday
The one day I remember to do my homework
Masha Yurkevich Dec 2018
She passed away.
Today.
And I just talked to her yesterday.
She was happy and smiling.
She was fighting; she was thriving.
Yet none of us knew that during the night,
it would be the end of her fight.
I came to school today
ready for another Thursday.
But life today took quite a swing,
and it really left me thinking.

Dedicated to Mrs. Lee LeRoy;
may you rest in peace.
You will never be forgotten.
One of my favorite teachers died of a heart attack in her sleep. I wasn't ready for the news; I had just talked and to her yesterday. She was so happy and healthy, I couldn't believe when I was told that she passed. I don't think I've ever seen teachers, and people over all, cry so much. I cried, too. I will miss her so much. At least she is in a better place right now. May Mrs. Lee LeRoy rest in peace.
JAC Oct 2018
Some nights are not as good as others
for example I have never loved Thursdays
no Thursday is what you want it to be
and no Thursday night offers enough rest

some nights, maybe Thursdays, I'm awake
laying where I'd sleep with eyes closed
but mind wide open, wishing to be empty
or filled with whatever rest has to offer it

I lay lucid, still as sand, wishing gently
for your warm hand in my hair, shirt
wrapped in me, pressing me into oblivion
on a stupid sleepless Thursday night.
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