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Tori G Nov 2013
Eggnog,
Holly,
Presents,
Lights,
Cocoa,
Food,
Figurines,
And even
An indoor tree.

Oh yay.
More sweaters.

Oh yay.
More tangible things.

Oh yay.
I'm alone for yet another holiday.

Merry Christmas Everyone.
I know it's a bit early, but I figure if society thinks it's okay to play Christmas music then it must be okay to write Christmas poetry, right?
Tori G Nov 2013
I have come to the conclusion
That all of life is merely an illusion.

Time is nothing more than relative
And love is ridiculously sensitive.

We astonishingly keep in tact
By sudden moments of impact.

These moments, as glee as they may be
Never last for long, especially for me.

They pass by with a shimmer and a wink
And when they're gone I do nothing but drink.

But nothing is sadder as when I am twisted
Because that moment is gone; I missed it.

I do not hate myself though
Because it's impossible to feel low.

When I am high as a kite
Just thinking about tonight.

And how I came to the conclusion
That all of life is merely an illusion.

Happiness is a gift;
Do not let it drift.

For not everyone is able
To feel an emotion so stable.
Tori G Nov 2013
Today is the day I forget yesterday's pains
My soul will no longer be bound
Like a weary slave's chains....
Tomorrow is the day I remember today
In high hopes that all my problems
Will have just melted away....
It's complicated really,
But one must see
Each day is meant to be forgotten
So don't be surprised
When I forget who you may be...
Tori G Aug 2013
I don't come to our favorite places
Because I miss you.
I come to our favorite places
To remember what my life was like.
I had forgotten how happy I once was;
How happy you made me.
But false happiness is infact
Worse than the greatest sadness.
So as I look out on the silent waves
From the private shore with benches,
I realize I have out grown all those foolish ways;
I have out grown you twice over.
Fret not though,
I will always have fond thoughts of us
But I will always come back to our favorite places
To remember why I left.
Tori G Aug 2013
Strangers toss coins with pity in their eyes-
Pity for what? I wonder
As I hurriedly pick up the 17 cents
That landed thinly on my cardboard cut out.
I lean back against this grimy wall
And cup my hands around my last piece of soul.
My harmonica tells the story that words
Cannot express by varied bends and draws.
Pity.... I am amused by how little they know.
The Passerby know not of all I see,
They know not of all the adventures,
They know not of the stories I could tell-
Not that anyone has asked or cared before...
Ah well, ignorance is bliss is it not?
What's the point in telling that business woman
She means less than nothing to the big picture?
Or telling that Girl Scout no one really cares
And people just want your cookies.
Pity me? Pity the other vagabonds?
Oh please. They must be kidding themselves.
These prissy ******* will be forever blind
That we, the homeless, are top dog;
That we are the champions of this world.
Tori G Jul 2013
You make my poetry crumble
Like a building set for demolition.
I want to write beautiful things,
But when I gaze upon you
My mind draws a blank.
I don't understand it really;
We are miles away from each other,
Yet you make my legs restless
And my knees as weak as gelatin.
Your icy blue eyes peer into
My soul until I can't help but melt-
I am in too deep for comfort.
I am sinking fast in the quicksand
Of your sweetly smooth words.
I am fighting off my feelings left and right
But nothing will stop you from knocking
Down the walls I have worked so hard to build up.
I want to tell you I love you like you have
Time and time again. But alas I cannot,
Because I don't want to be hurt or worse-
Hurt you.
It's not fair that you pull at my heart strings
Like you do because I have nothing in rebuttal.
Everytime I try my jaw locks up,
My lips seal tightly shut,
And my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth
Like it does when I eat peanut butter too fast.
I try to put my feelings into poetry
But even then the message comes out wrong.
I give up!
I am just a twitterpated poetress
Who's penmanship is less than sub par...
Tori G Jul 2013
This locket is reserved.
Reserved for The One;
My other half;
My true love;
My soulmate.

I've been told I'm different.
Apparently I am built
Of the highest quality;
I deserve a life and a spouse
Of high quality-
Who would've thought?

The man who's going to fill
This empty locket,
That's who.
Wishful thinking...
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