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why do you go to sleep in t-shirt and no bottoms?
he asks after years of
le marred marriage age

why for modesty and as a
sign of respectful readiness,

gazing upon me, you’ll see my x-small size,
tight bright pink v-necked t-shirt from Old Navy

making you reflect, my dear,
that this particular woman
is one confident sailor

gazing upon me, you’ll see my naked pure
intentions undoubtedly at the ready
per my
Girl Scout training,
“Be Prepared”
whenever help is needed^

making you reflect, my dear,
that this lady scout could probably
start a fire easy with just
one handy stick
and you,
‘rubber suit’ matching
my nighttime costume,
when our “couture au lingerie,”
exhibits a happy styling similarity
^ Motto: The Girl Scout motto is "Be prepared." In the 1947 Girl Scout Handbook, the motto was explained this way: "A Girl Scout is ready to help out wherever she is needed. Willingness to serve is not enough; you must know how to do the job well, even in an emergency."
sunshine May 2019
he's off somewhere now

ran away with my heart

but I stole his t-shirt, so guess we're even
starting some new short poems
hope you like

kadence May 2019
everyone misses
the old me
and i swear,
i promise,
i’m trying so hard
to be her.
i’m trying so hard.
but it’s like
putting on your old
favorite t-shirt
and it just…
doesn’t seem to fit anymore.
Brando Dec 2018
Para las flores
Para las ropas
El collar
Y el anillo
Todos los regalos que me traerías
No significaba una maldita cosa
Por los besos
Por los abrazos
Los paseos en coche
Y las cenas que compartiríamos
Todo vino con un precio
Que tendría que pagar
Ahora que hemos terminado
Me quedo con todo
Todos los recuerdos
Toda la basura
Y no quiero nada de eso
Nuestro tiempo puede haber sido corto
Pero no fuimos hechos para durar
Así que, gracias por nada puta
Por favor, toma todo de vuelta

For the roses
For the clothes
The necklace
And the ring
All the presents you would bring me
Didn’t mean a ******* thing
For the kisses
For the hugs
The car rides
And the dinners we would share
All came with a price
That I would have to pay
Now that we are through
I am left with it all
All the memories
All the junk
And I don’t want any of it
Our time may have been short
But we weren't made to last
So, thanks for nothing *****
Please take it all back
im currently wearing a shirt that says "gracias for nada" so there is my inspo
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
If I wasn't too black to wear in the sun when the skies are blue. Maybe a different colour would fit.
If I wasn't so thin to keep you from winter morning cold & chill. Maybe a jacket is all you need.
If I wasn't fragile made for wind to ******* when you hang me on the line. Maybe a peg will hold me up.
If I wasn't  made of cotton to get wet when it pours on you skin. Maybe an umbrella will do that.
Maybe then you will wash, bleach, iron and put cologne on me.
Until then I am your T-shirt.
 Just a T-shirt.
©Sacred Johnson
There is point where we all need to come to peace with what we can't change about ourselve (esp. our physical appearance), for we are just human and we say "enough". Don't let people who can't recognise you value becomes predicaments of your life. Learn to move on, separate.
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2018
And there I felt a sense of elation.
Seeing it for the first time.
A sense of interest.
Soft spoken, somewhat political.
Funded by interest.
The likes and dislikes of what lures the climate of smile.
It felt surreal.

A breath of fresh air.
A simple reminder of the smallest thing.
Not once did it feel that it was too much.
Not once did it feel that it was vain.
Off beat.

Watching episode after episode,
Subtle unsubtle laughs.

The gist of different references.
Spontaneous in the avenue of conversation.
I drove to get a second look. Then once more around.
The freedom of advertisement.
Officially elected in detailed statement.
A festival of sorts.
I would turn the corner and see all of my favorite characters 
represented by my most favorite character.

To compliment surprise her cheeks rose like a billboard. 
If marketing research counts, I was instantly sold.
Finding she was a avid merchant.
Her infinite knowledge for detail.
The gap bridged between listening and speaking.
A new experience to a different sector of my brain.
The rescue of a struggling smile.
A festival of bright smiles and laughs.
Corners of strong jawline and spontaneous conversation.
It was incredible.

Catching the most important reference,
My favorite character in life.
Wearing a Bob's Burger t-shirt
Granting smile in a instant
Sarah Mann May 2018
a t-shirt. one that is a terrible color. 
my mom's least favorite, burnt orange. 
it shares a disgusting likeness to rust. 
and yet my dad would wear it everyday. 
regardless of everyone around him's distrust. 
"no one would dare to wear that in public" 
my mom said, she was wrong. 
perhaps when she married him she was not aware 
of my dad's inexplicable connection to 
this terrible color, or to t-shirts in general i guess
for about six out of the seven days a week regardless 
he would be wearing that same shirt
for the almost 20 years they have been married 
he can be found wearing that same shirt
however, there's a slight misconception
he doesn't have just one shirt 
he has dozens of those nasty burnt orange colored shirts 
and i suppose i forgot to mention that it's to support a football team
which seems shallow in theory but the aforementioned is
non-other than the texas longhorns. 
my dad grew up there and attended college there. 
he wasn't even a part of the team, and yet 
for the last 35 years he's been wearing that same shirt.
i simply can't understand his undying affinity 
i barely recognize the mascot of our own school team. 
there is a certain dedication, a certain love that he must feel towards this place, towards that team. 
however as i'm writing this poem i simply can't ascertain what it's all supposed to mean? 
texas, a place of southern accents, cowboys, and racism. 
not somewhere i typically tend to associate with even
though it was the place where i was born in 
on a Tuesday almost 17 years ago at about 1pm 
and of course i arrive
too early for my own good, 
so i stayed in a hospital in ICU until they said i could
be taken home to a house i barely remember. 
i wouldn't call that place home. 
and yet, my dad wearing another variation of his classic burnt orange t-shirt today 
that reminds me that's where i came from 
i came from burnt orange beginnings. 
and even though i might live in a blue ocean paradise as of now. 
that's not where i started. 
i tell myself that i am so much more that the place my life began in. 
so instead of loving where i started and the color that comes with it. 
i continue to despise that burnt orange color and compare it to rust 
and all other things that fill me with unexplainable disgust. 
but in the spirit of honestness. i don't hate it as much as i contest 
don't ask me about it however because for sure all i’ll do is protest
but even when i was little seeing that orange shirt and ******* car 
arrive in the driveway of my old school was truly the best 
looking for that ugly orange shirt at the end of the day when he always asked me what i had learned
hugging that terrible orange shirt when i'm crying 
after scraping my knee on the concrete
taking car rides with that orange shirt seated beside me 
that seemed as long as a lifetime to go see the turtles on the north shore  
after watching him present himself at a showing of a house we could never afford
watching that orange shirt fumble and stumble teaching me to drive 
fixing my air conditioner with this orange shirt at 2am
after a nightmare session that left me too rattled to sleep
that orange shirt who attends these loud rock concerts that he doesn’t necessarily enjoy simply to watch me be happy
that awful orange shirt that has seen me sad and happy and everything in between.
you know seeing that orange shirt for nearly every day of my life
has conditioned me 
and truly i hate it, the dustiness, the rustiness of it all. 
it’s disgusting, appalling and above all terrible. 
but for some godforsaken reason i also love it. 
i love it with my entire heart,
i truly love that stupid orange shirt for all of its awfulness
and logically i know it's not the shirt but the person inside.
because my dad is one of the most amazing people
i know and i hate to admit
but that color has grown on me, because of him
it's become home to me, 
it's my dad.
and maybe i'll never figure out why 
my dad loves his college football team so much 
maybe i don't need to 
what i know is that while burnt orange may be a truly terrible color, 
it's become home to me.
Written a while ago for NYDPS.
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