You are a woman that fills me
With awe.
If you were a mountain,
I would feel inspired
To climb you,
But I'll just give you
A Tibetan Documentary DVD
About Blind Mountain Climbers
Instead.
Your hot breath on my skin,
Your arm lovingly around my waist,
Long legs wrapped around mine.

Thighs numb, ruby red buttocks and a big cheesy grin adorns your face.

Thoughts of the night reverberating through your mind.
bret 2d
i helped a lady
take her groceries to her house today.
it was the same lady
i watched cross the street
it was the same lady
i didnt hear walk into the corner store behind me.
it was the same lady
i let the door fall onto.
i couldnt hear her.

she ended up ahead of me on the sidewalk.
grocery bags on the pavement.
phone on her ear.
i walked by her.
she apologized
said she was trying to get help.
we walked together.
she told me 'help' was on the patio
drinking a beer.
she asked where i lived
and i said a street over.
she said she hoped she'd see me around.
and i said maybe not, im going home for the summer.

she asked if i was getting out of the rat race
im too young for the rat race.

she thanked me a lot
and said
'some good karma will come your way
im a firm believer in that'

me too
i said.

i walked home and thought
i should write a poem about
that conversation.
about giving a second chance
about being a kind person.
about karma.

usually when something like this happens
i write the minute i get home

but i didnt.

i realized, i dont think i can write
about happy things
because when they happen
they always ferment until
they're not what they were.

it was a quick high
a genuine moment.
if karma is real
and that woman is right
either im the devil himself
or theres a big check
with my name on it.

before i started writing
i googled seasonal depression symptoms

apparently not talking to anyone between the months of february and may every year is still a horse with no name.

how do you kill a love
you made yourself.

i leave this town in a week
and i feel as broken
and confused
as the shit i tried to leave

all i want to do is jump in the river
to see if i can really swim
and figure it out from there.
this is a little long
and more of a ramble than anything ive written before
its also my 100th poem on this site
so i just want to say thanks
to all that have listened
and to all those that have said kind things
they dont go unnoticed
and i am very appreciative.
this community has done a lot for me
and i have a big project coming soon
that im excited to share
if youre willing to listen.
thank you
i love you
god bless.
my body is 100% woman
all curves and no straight angles
full of grace and love
a pillow to hold

my body is 100% miracle
all strength and perseverance
awkward and unique
a frame to remember

even when it feels
full of shame
I still know it to be
extraordinary
words cut deep;
you were my anaesthesia.

then, you wore off;
i died under the knife.
Valene 3d
She was like the sky,
A scheduled light with the blessed glow from the sun
A huge change, one that showed me darkness can come from light
Like how day can become night

She was like the sky,
A clear blue of sadness and sorrow
They focused on the flaws that clouded her beauty,
But I noticed the millions of stars that shone within her

She was like the sky,
Everyone wants to be the master of the heavens
But she was heaven herself
She was a sky full of so much hope

She was like the sky,
They hated seeing her constantly shine,
Constantly reflect her happy light,
They loved it when she shed,
They took her tears for fulfilling rain,
They prayed for her to cry, to stop all the shine
In order to supply for their desires and pride

She was like the sky,
And now she's more like an endless stream.
A poem about woman in general, specifically about my little sister. This speaks about how people are getting happier because of others sorrows and tears.
when i got home that night

- three-hundred and sixty-five days

prior to writing this,
i’d spent exactly

- forty-five minutes

drinking.
i’d left the house at

- eight-thirty pm

and planned to spend about

- three and a half-hours

shooting the shit with old friends
while pretending i was okay.
instead, i downed

- three double-shots of vodka and lemonade
- three double-shots of malibu and coke
- 2 shots of amaretto and coke
- and one pint of beer.

and after those forty five minutes,
my friend spent about

- twenty minutes

dragging me home.
it took

- two-and-a-half minutes

to explain to her that i’d been ill.
very ill.
and that really, i still was
very ill.
and it took

- two-point-five seconds

for her to ignore me.
when I got home that night

- three-hundred and sixty-five days

prior to writing this,
i spent about

- one hour

throwing up through my mouth.
and through my nose.

- two eyes
- one t-shirt
- one toilet bowl
- one bedsheet

soaked in tears, mascara and vomit
TW: mental illness
he holds the sun.
i know this because
he emits a piece of it’s shine
towards me every day.
it’s in his smile
when he hasn’t seen me in a while;
it’s in the warmth of his skin,
holding me from within -
i look up to him
-blinding-
always shining
although occasionally clouded
from view;
he is my one constant.
the grandest star in the sky.
for my love.
The Mahler played.
You poured us scotch
and we sat on your blue sofa
sipping the scotch
from small glasses.

You said your son
had visited with his wife.

Skinny bitch. Dark haired.
Tongue like a viper.

You seemed unimpressed
with his choice.

You lifted the glass
level with your eyes.

"They call it amber nectar"
you said.
I sipped mine.

Mahler's second
movement ended.

You gulped down
your scotch.

"Here or on the bed?"
you said.

I drained my glass.
"Bed is best"
I said.

You eyed me.
"Word is
you have eyes
on the temporary nurse"
you said casually.

"There is always gossip"
I said "she's not my type."

You raised an eyebrow.
But you knew
she might be
somehow.
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