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aha Mar 5
or was it the other way around?
when I made the decision to give myself to her, I felt my soul
yearn
to be torn apart
like cells splitting in half,
simply because
something within them
told them to

have you ever seen a mother make a sandwich for a child?
she uses this kind of jam
because that's the only kind they like,
and she cuts it just this particular way
so that it fits in their lunch box

I wanted to cut my heart into shapes that she would like.
coquette cookie cutters stamped into mounds of muscle
and arteries
and sinew
for a girl that said I was special
everything in this poem is metaphorical btw !! **** I would never cut my heart, that's terrifying. I hope everyone is well on this site btw I've been gone for three years and I hope to get back to writing more ^^
if you're reading this, have a good day !
selina Feb 28
i hate how you're so utterly perfect
i wonder if other people also notice it
how your scattered freckles mimic the stars
little dipper's tail has made home by your lips

i hate your contagious smile, that look in your eyes
for your perfect boyfriend and his indie rock band
i am no longer myself; i am hopelessly tossing coins
and wishing to hold a constellation in my hand
nothing special
Acora Feb 6
each of us twitch in the fingers and toes,
two people jolted repeatedly in the day,
And each of us want to put the electricity to good use
so we move; and
Running my hands through your hair feels like flying
There are bruises on my neck and cuts on my tongue
I am pulled to you.
You pull me into your chest while you're sleeping,
You pull me onto your lap in your room
it smells like *** and sweetness
Rose petals and pachouli in your dark curls--
There's a place I'm trying to reach in the center of me.
You help me find it.
Thank you for lending me those glossy dark brown eyes to see with
however long we last.
Pink delphinium-- Levity, fun, youth's power, ardent attachment...
Acora Jan 25
The way I expressed it didn’t fully
make sense to my dearest
who only likes men.
It's never sat right to me
the pride of a parent in their straight child's love life,
the "don't ask don't tell" for a gay daughter
I used to see red as a fad that
had passed and a warning that I’m
not desired;
But I’m seeing clearer now,
Rose-colored glasses might
actually bring life into focus.

We're all fruity and nonconforming
girlfriends and boyfriends and partners each
Others cringe hearing "queer"...
Yet there’s something more in it:
We don't have an explicit gaze,
We have possibility, and the subversion of male eyes.
So I’ve always been nearly regal like The Lady of Shalott, or Lady Lilith,
The Birth of Venus,
Flaming June,
The Accolade— and I
like *** and I
feel wanted and I
am a commodity--

Don't a man look at me but
I will take a boyish girl's gaze
only her eyes focused on my *******—
Sleep over after the first date, for a change,
And remain soft in shape
She murmurs a lover’s desires:
Wear your identity on your sleeve,
In the curve of your back, on the scent of your hair and upon your hips, which invite her hands.

Once, I said "let's make it cinematic
Like that one *** scene that's in Mulholland Drive"
But now: "Touch me, baby"
It's finally the normal way.
Paintings by John William Waterhouse, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Sandro Botticelli, Frederic Leighton, and Edmund Blair Leighton.
Quotes from "Naked in Manhattan" by Chappell Roan.

reworking a piece find the original here: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4292081/nelumbo-nucifera/
Acora Jan 11
my hips, my ***, the insides of my thighs
Don't need to give her tips
because they're true, already tried,
And she asks without a word
(i never knew consent to be so smooth)
I've never had a lover
just a love
Now *** is never 'wrong'.

Then there I was, excited-
The question hit me straight-
"are you queer now?"
No, I'm with a girl, she's lesbian bait;
Don't criticize her anatomy.
Psychosa Jan 10
A face I once knew disintegrates before me.
You hold before me a mirror of the person I once knew,
but it is no longer you who is looking through.

Your eyes morph to stained glass silhouettes
as of the flame of your being flickers to embers.
The greater my cries,
the quicker our demise.

A cast of the woman I once knew vacantly looks through,
and yet my heart still beats for you.
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