You have no right to complain
if you tread on my bared soul.
Is it my fault if you're pained?
You've crushed me with your sole.
I don't mind breaking apart
Careful handling's a rare feat
But I have to break my heart
When you crush me with bare feet
You leave the kitchen with my remains on the ground.
It's my job to sweep the floor clean.
The timid moon obscures itself
in shadows of intrigue.
Every night you wax,
a striptease of your soul.
The moon looks over all the stars
reflecting the light of an absent sun.
The cold night glows with wonder.
Though you are smaller than the stars,
the twinkles are minuscule in my eyes.
If you are the moon,
and the moon is made of cheese,
then why am I
cheesy so squeezy.
Knows how to dress you.
He knows how to undress you,
with a seem ripper.
YOU HELPED ME
IT DIDN'T HELP
I TOLD SOMEONE HOW I FELT
I GOT HELP
I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP ANYMORE.
SHOULDER THE BURDEN OF BEING MY SAVIOR NO LONGER.
NO ONE ALONE CAN BE BURDENED WITH THE TASK OF SAVING ME.
I YELLED AT YOU.
I HIT MYSELF IN THE FACE WITH A SPIRAL NOTEBOOK IN ANGER.
A SOCIAL FAUX-PAS.
YOU DON'T HAVE TO TEACH ME THIS IS WRONG.
I ALREADY KNOW.
I AM IMPULSIVE, NOT IGNORANT.
I ONLY PRETEND TO BE
BECAUSE I THINK
I LIKE YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE FUNNY
I LIKED TEXTING YOU
UNTIL YOU SAID
I TEXTED AS MUCH AS A LADY LOVER SHOULD
HOW CAN I HELP YOU
HOW CAN I MAKE YOU BETTER
PLEASE LET ME HELP YOU
I KNOW YOU ARE SUFFERING
I WANT TO MAKE IT RIGHT
JUST DON'T TELL ME
"Go away" OR "Leave me alone"
I'm still thinking about the boy from Rango and Don't Stick Your Fork In Gravy. Wrote this so I wouldn't try talking to him in person.
the iceberg sperg
used to freeze up
when hands felt her up
and kissing her
licking a metal pole
a white christmas
but when she met the one
burst into *flames
it's a good half rhyme and i'm reclaiming it
His dog was contained in an impenetrable tomb.
Twelve hexagonal stepping stones upon
A mound of dirt
I wanted to pray for her,
a dog I never met.
I had to repent
for the barking noises I made
earlier, before I knew.
All dogs go to heaven, but all people go to hell.
He didn't want to be reminded
of her passing
so I didn't warn him that I was coming.
At least he wasn't home.
The alive dog, Rango, was very friendly.
He sniffed and licked me,
his nose between my legs.
If only someone else would find me so fascinating.
I noted this out loud.
His mother laughed.
She was complicit in my intrusion of his son's privacy.
A nice boy
A sweet boy
A quiet boy
An anxious boy
He preferred the company of a few close friends
Friends that weren't me
Even though I was delirious,
I meant it when I said to this man
"If you were like the boy she described,
I would have fallen in love."
Recollection of an event on 12/6/17. Written 12/11/17.
Kathy Ann cut the hair of Mr. Diatribe,
and glued his soft golden locks
to her pink phone case.
Fuzzy, calming, cathartic.
The scholars took this as evidence that she truly loved him
for all the favoritism
for all the joking
for all the flirting
for all the gentle touches
and for all the extra credit he offered her.
She raised her phone to the sky and declared
“This is my trauma on display,
for all the world to see.
It changed my life forever.
He will never part with me.”
Sophia asked her
“Wouldn’t you rather move on
and build a better society?
Imagine a school with free lunches,
no homework, no grades, bully-free.
Co-operation and learning only.”
“I’m still ****** up about it,” said Kathy Ann.
“It sounds good but I don’t believe.”
“That’s okay. I love you.”
“Some day, I will too. Thank you.”
December 8, 2017
High school girl feels a certain way about her English teacher. Fiction