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Milan Nov 2020
K/J
Both have hair the same color as the chocolate ice cream being devoured by a 10 year old on a hot summer night
Both are tall like the steel trees that tower over the concrete that shapes the grounds
Both are white the same color as sand on a hidden Hawaiian beach discovered only by a few
One has blue eyes, the type that makes me want to dive right in and let the warmth of the water and burning sun caress my skin
Both doors are locked though and I can’t get in
You see no amount of presence and motion of lips would be enough to have either notice
The ones they long aren’t even within proximity to what is me
Someone who’s aura and demeanor isn’t even looked at with a linger
I’m just a one time attempt a hello with no goodbye
The product of being the shy new guy
Things have never worked in my favor I’ll never be a kiss on the head with a “See you later!”
The life that I’ve dreamed up is just not for me I age out of it slowly it’s such a tragedy
This incomprehensible want that I don’t know how to share, it’ll just stay within me it won’t go anywhere
Cause I missed out and now I’m out of luck
I’m stuck between caring and not giving a ****
I hope it changes and changes fast, cause time goes on and youth doesn’t last
For now I’ll sit overthink and wait
Hopelessly fantasizing about K and J
I pretty much ramble on about different things that connect. It isn’t perfect and isn’t in a format. I just wrote until I felt I put all the thoughts together in one box.
Milan Taylor Poetry
Milan Nov 2020
The whole act felt like a fisherman gutting his catch
You struck my body with your knife and removed the parts that were unappetizing
All that was left was the meat, the tender and juicy meat
It was at that moment my body was never the same, there was no going back from where I came
I'd be wrapped and shipped off to the market place
I'd lie next to your other victims and spends nights and days within the cold
What once was fresh is now up for sale, no longer sacred no longer a holy grail
Milan Taylor Poetry
Milan Nov 2020
It’s always the wrong one that catch my attention

The straight white ones with skin like the sandy beaches of the Amalfi Coast

I’ve give them space in my head and they live there rent free, because my mind is like a New York City apartment, it’s high in demand

The well off undeserving ones find a way in, while those with less but still worth more look on from the outside

They fill me with looks and aesthetics I crave, but it’s only infatuation and will wither in a few days

Because reality’s a ***** and she’ll come with her riches, she’ll outbid these boys and tell them to leave with well wishes
Milan Taylor Poetry
Milan Nov 2020
Life:
I’d do anything for you
I don’t love you I need you the way that I need oxygen in order to survive in this carcass that I inhabit
You are all that matters to me
Love me and tell me that without me your life would be meaningless
I don’t call it the brain anymore, it’s a mansion created just for you to settle in and make a home
I’d do anything for you
I’d **** for you, I’d forsake those I love for you, I’d follow you anywhere you go
As long as this body functions like a machine it’s on a path headed towards you and only you
Death:
Enjoy your last supper, because you’ve committed sins that not even an all loving God could forgive
I’m outside your door and waiting for the right time to teach you what happens when you **** with a ******
I’ve been in contact with the Devil and he’s been waiting your arrival
Like a Samurai with temperament issues, you poked a bear that shows no signs of sympathy
I’ll hit you over the head like I’m Babe Ruth striking it out of the park
Pull out you insides like their string cheese in the the sticky hands of a ravenous five year old
Once finished I’ll give you to the only person who understands the rage I’m experiencing, the ocean. She’ll swallow you whole and let you soul be the motivation for the bitterness she keeps
As I walk away I’ll look back and think “Hmm”
Cause there’s no in between with me my love
It’s either life or death
Milan Taylor Poetry

— The End —