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I S A A C Nov 2021
I feel stupid I feel dumb
I won but what
did I really win, you are so childish
had to cut the strings, can no longer cradle it
you are a baby, so immature
you are such an actor, improve king
scratch that you are such a clown
a king would have a crown
but you cannot face what you were born to be
rather keep yourself like an oath, just to not rock the boat
but I cannot be your baby only in the moonlight
in daylight, you are scared to touch me
it rubs me the wrong way, you love me the wrong way
I pictured us as more but you pictured me as decor
a vessel for your fantasy, a trophy nothing more
then you block me on everything because I won’t allow you to keep vanishing
encore encore, but you are still so unsure
fix yourself, please
maturing can be a breeze
when you take accountability
I raced towards the finish line
Your golden trophy my constant drive
When I reached the end
I must confess
Your trophy was a golden lie
following a dream of lies
Amanda Kay Burke Jun 2020
If love was not hard
It would not be rewarding
Trophies must be earned
It wouldn't be a prize if anyone could win it
Elsie Greek Apr 2020
Stick to whatever,
She told me.
Get it wrong, right
Or do not.
Flee to your scarier
Shelter,
One that is easy
To spot.
Drink wines
From glasses
Of doubt,
Worship your
Local canons.
Stretch them
Within and without,
Stan the unpardoned
Of lords.

Having it all
Given to you,
Acting completely
Exposed,
Trophies in pain
Excruciate you:
None of them **** you,
Suppose.
Amelia Sapp Dec 2019
you were a rare specimen,

i wanted to catch you with my words,

paralyze you with my gaze,

dissect you with my tongue,

and stuff you with my love,

i wanted to keep you as a trophy,

but you were wild, and i was eccentric.
Erin Esterberg Aug 2019
In your eyes, I find a map,
And so far it has led me past the stars
Into a galaxy of happiness and joy,
Through my own heart and into yours,
And it has showed me
Our love is a universe,
Expanding and compounding continuously,
Forever.
But this expedition has brought me no treasure to display in my trophy case
And that just wont cut it anymore.
So for now-
I'll just head back up to the stars.
Perhaps I'll find you there too.
OpenWorldView Jan 2019
I exposed my heart.
Love put on a silver plate.
She took her trophy.
Beanie Dec 2018
you think the heads
hung on your wall
define you,
prove your masculine worth.

to me,
they are a warning
to stay far away.

women and animals
are not yours.

we are not yours,
we are not trophies for your wall,
we are not notches for your bedpost,
we are not prizes to be won.

yet you would treat us as such,
equate me and my sisters
with the lion in the savannah,
and reduce us to what you can take.

you would hang us on your wall,
furs and maidenheads,
displaying us as symbols of your prowess.

we do not exist to stroke your ego,
to let you show off to the others,
to have you carry us as the mantle on your shoulders,
the crown upon your head.

our blood,
the lioness and mine,
is on your hands and your walls,
and we will make you regret it.
I wrote this after watching the documentary "Trophy"
There is such a thing
as
the Hollywood Blonde
They all seem to know one another
Each one thinks that
They
Alone
are the most sublime
The most inspirational
The Musiest

Like Water Nymphs
They form their group instinctively
The Hollywood Blonde
And if you are a Brunette, say
Or Chinese
I know one and she has the most magnificent *******
Nevertheless
Irregardless
the facts
The husband and the house
The hotels and private jets
Know
Know that those Hollywood Blondes will do a lot of stuff
Without you dear one
“Sorry” they will shrug
They swim
And dine
And gather together
Luminously
And will let you know
after The Fact
Even movies
Or just returning phone calls

Why do they form the horde?
Perhaps they really are genetically special.
Why do they pride themselves in their isolation?
A mystery still.
Courtesan?
Geisha?
Cheerleader?
Mystery Side-Piece?
Wife?
Ex-wife?
Widow?
Oh yes.
Is it an unknowable path that they are on?
A hero’s quest in a bottle of peroxide?
Applied every three weeks.
I’d like to think so.
I wish that they would share what they know.

But we already know.
A mind is not necessary
although helpful
Chic? No. You can wear anything.
A steady, warrantied beauty?
No
No just hair
the color of wheat
Or a corn tortilla
It’s never spun gold
No matter
What you’ve read.

36
18
33
Are Barbie’s measurements
Can you imagine the pressure.
When the lines appear and it’s over?
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