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:(
idk May 2019
:(
i don’t love you and it hurts
i love you and it hurts anyway
idk Feb 2019
crying over spilled milk is perfectly acceptable
idk Jun 2019
the sunset slides over the park where we sit
the sun washes us out, and i wait for the clouds to dissipate

they don’t

when you died, you walked into a golden sky
i wonder if now the golden sky we see is you

golden, beautiful you
i ask if when i die
i will walk into the golden sky
for all but the storm

there are people around
some watch
some stare
most ignore me
there are lots like me, here

i am not sorry
idk Jan 2020
i won’t even let anybody take U away from me i promise
i promise i won’t tell anyone about U
U can be my secret i promise please don’t leave me i need U i have nothing
ed poems home i get banned bye
idk Dec 2018
ˈaNGɡər

1. and your eyes light up sky blue, sea blue doesn’t matter what kind of blue because you’re shooting bullets from your mouth but they just ***** my arms.

2. i’m floating above you, electricity waits at the back of your tounge and with every word you throw at me like stones i just get lighter.

3. you’re yelling  and crying and shouting all at once, mixing up the sounds of the rain with your voice. i just lie on the ground eyes crystallized toward the sky like i am asking god himself to shield me from your rage.

- persephone 2018
idk Dec 2018
ˌäkwəməˈrēn/
Noun

1. Fill your pockets. Can't you help but think it matches the blue of their eyes?
it litters the beaches of your old hometown. Forget about suspicious coincidences and run.

2. the ocean is to misty to reclaim the fruit it had beared. Eat the gemstones like ice. Won't it make you young?

3. They speak to you in the trunk of your car. Remember that not just any rocks match eyes so perfectly. Think Insanity. think destiny. throw out your torn dress and join the sea.
idk Jan 2019
shakespeare made all
of his young lovers die-
poinsoned stabbed or drowned.

because he realized some people
are only meant to be together
six feet under ground.
out **** spot! hope
idk Jan 2019
i played
with dolls as a
kid to learn what it
was like to be perfect
and to live a
perfect
life.
you
know, dolls
did not teach me
to hate my body
the people that made them
did. my dolls were secret agents
teachers, scientists and
firefighters.
but the
people
that
made them
shaped them into
stereotypical perfection
leading me to believe, that
you had to be perfect to achieve your
dreams. this was so ingrained within
me what when i was older, dolls were no
longer toys of my imagination, instead they were models to look just like, because
in my mind, nobody who ever looked like me would be made by a doll company, because they make perfect people and only perfect people were allowed to follow their dreams. only perfect people were allowed to do perfect things.
inspired by “needle”
by Hg
idk Jun 2019
she’s so lovley she’s so pretty she has rlly nice brown eyes and when i hug her i always stand in the sun so i can see how yellow they turn it’s my favorite color
idk Dec 2018
kəˈlamədē/
noun

1. Watch the wind swirl the ocean waves into big, reaching hands. Only have you ever seen this in your imagination. Thousands dead, cities destroyed. Laugh in the rubble of your apartment building.
You will never recover from this.

2. Taste the earth as you never have before. The air is quiet because it is waiting. your heart beats much to fast for the calm before the storm. Offer the woman lying in the wreckage a cup of tea in what used to be your kitchen. Run, run, run. It's too late.

3. Is it all in your head? open your eyes to find the soil perfectly intact. You'll never know what's real and what isn't. All the people carry their grief with them alongside their umbrellas. It's still raining.
idk Jan 2019
instead of a heart in my chest there’s sunflowers
parched for sunlight
idk May 2019
bathing in the sunshine,
it pours down on me in a cascade //
lovely summer days end with drifting off into the horizon //
where the moon hangs limp like the leaves on the trees //
and i promise you that when you walk into the storm //
there will be a golden sky
idk Jun 2019
i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me i hate me
my thighs still touch i don’t know how anyone could ever think i’m pretty like that and i’m not really good at anythinb else
idk Oct 2018
e·lec·tric·i·ty
əˌlekˈtrisədē/

1. i want you to promise me that when you fill your veins with ice water you won’t ever forget. till death do we part.
2. im knocking at your door and you’re there, your eyes a peculiar color of green. you hold my hand and fire comes down my arms in waves, it hurts so much but i would never dream of taking my hand away.
3. pulses of white hot lighting electrified your tears. running down your cheeks they seem to glow. this is the moment, you are the moment. paralyzed, i stand in front of you, you are the magnet and i will spin You. together we light up the world like firecrackers.
idk Jan 2019
i know that i will never be the prettiest
or the funniest
or the smartest

i’ll never be the -est of anything
because the only thing i can ever be
is me

and for you that’s just not good enough.
idk Mar 2019
noun

1. there’s water in the stars, and when it over flows it rains fire down upon us. it scared you once, and now pink scars run rivers down your cheeks.

2. maybe someday you’ll overflow just like the stars, and hell will bubble out of your mouth and onto the ground. there will be fire all around us and god will say, you have fire.

3. when you fell you reached up and your candle-wax rosaries burned all of time and space stored inside your brain, the records kept for nothing. and god will say, you have the end.

4. i walk miles of sand, half finished mirages in my wake as my heart beats to the vacuum of space. at night, if you look up, there are no gods there. you want him to say, here are the flames and here is the end, you want him to say you can die now. but there are no gods anywhere.
idk Jan 2020
i know what U did U think i don’t remember what U did but i do i hate U and the way U make me feel you took my childhood away from me it’s not fair i want to be like other people and i want to be normal and i want to be a kid but i can’t U made me grow up i’m not ready it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair
idk Feb 2020
do not visit my grave and cry, i am not there
i did not die
idk Dec 2018
ˈhəkəlˌberē/
Noun

1. instead of lipstick drink in the blood and let it stain your skin. Don't tell anyone the purple hue of your lips isn't from face paint.

2. Run in the fields like you have never run before. Gentle, gentle. The brambles will scratch your skin.

3. Return with cuts and tears in your flesh and fill up chocolate domes with the crushed bodies. Lick your blood stained lips and sell your candies to tourists.
idk Jan 2019
listening to the rain
puts everything in perspective
everything seems to matter a little less
when you’re standing in a rainstorm


it’s both quiet and loud
an interesting mix of lack and presence of sound
wind in my hair, clothes, on my face
i think this is why people believe in god

it’s very rare these days
to expirence something so raw
to realize
that we really matter nothing at all
that we are here, now
that we belong on earth

in this rainstorm

i let the weather soak my hair and my coat
running through the dark
my shoes barley touch the ground
i want to reach her
the rain
and tell her i finally believe in god
idk Jun 2019
i’m dating a girl and i hate myself i’m corrupting her it’s not natural for girls to think about each other like that i’m ruining her life like U did for me it’s not normal and i love her so much but i don’t its my corrupt impulses why did god make me this way why couldn’t i be normal

i’m not gay just struggling
idk Jan 2020
i started jump-roping again
twice a day two hundred times each
i do sit-ups at night
400 times each
it hurts so much it takes so long
and it does nothing i check 4 times a day and it does nothing
why did U lie to me
numbers take over my life again
do U remember when i was a child? innocent, sweet, uncaring



yeah, neither do i
idk Jan 2019
she
           wanted         to        

                        wander,    

               but               could
                                        not             even
fit               through    


                wonderlands door

and
she                            began
                        to                 wonder

                 if          impossible           things


really were
                                  impossible.
this is about anorexia AGAIN but its also alive and wonderland idkkk
idk Dec 2018
/lamp/
noun

1. Light up the room, light up your words. flick that switch and watch all candles become obsolete. Turn it off as you leave the room. You don't want it watching.

2. Listen closely. The gentle hum of electricity waits in the dark. tap your fingernails on the delicate porcelain. Wait until you can no longer hear the noise.

3. Yellow. Can light age? Catch it all in your hands and wash your face. Pretend you didn't see the shadows in your room. Pretend you didn't see the figures in the mirror. Tick tock, tick tock. you're late for work. Turn it off.
idk Feb 2020
oh, my sweet!
tender hearted darling
your soft hands,
your warm smile,
your birdsong laugh
sets my heart aflutter

serenade me,
drape me in your honey sweet voice
let me take up space in your tender gaze
simply being in your presence
is to be surrounded by home
you turn the key
and my heart kicks to life
a rusty thing,
but for you it shines golden
idk Dec 2018
Golden child,
Lion boy;
Tell me what it’s like to conquer.

Fearless child,
Broken boy;
Tell me what it’s like to burn.
idk Feb 2019
take me under your wings
push me up to the sky
                  let me fly
                          let me fly
                                   let me fly
                    i’ve got my             wings now
             they’re full of the wind now
watch me go
                      watch me go watch me
let me fly much to high
        and when       i die
             throw me the roses
                    bury me deep
                            and bury      me next to you
                             let me fly
                             let me     fly
                       let me
idk Dec 2018
there’s so much i want to tell you//
(i’ve been thinking about you)
can’t get you off my mind
(never thought i would love you)
i’m too young to tell you the truth
so instead i’ll pretend// i’m not interested
(when really i’ve never loved somebody like you)
idk Dec 2018
nāl/
noun

1. Click clack, click clack. Her long pointed fingernails are painted red. silk red, strawberry red. Maybe their painted with paint, maybe their painted with blood. They knock on your door. You know about the poison in her polish.

2. The final end to your books. A period to finish the rambling sentence that was your existence. As we place you in your metal box to rot nobody weeps. The final nail in your coffin goes in sideways.

3. nobody stays for the reception.  as you are lowered she throws a rose. It matches the color of her fingernails. click clack, click clack. We pile dirt onto you. So much dirt. I wonder how you will get out now.
idk Sep 2019
i still have a crush on my ex why did i break up with her i’m so ******* stupid oh my god i can’t stop thinking about her it’s in my head every second of the day when i look at wedding pictures on pintrest i think about her i am literally in middle school oh my god

also i’m pretty sure i’m trans bye
idk Mar 2020
i think U and me are meant to be
on summers grove
with every baiting breath
we watch together
our fleeting death
and in the future on a summers day
the dew will drift and fade away
and U and me will meet again
beneath the soil and beneath the sand
the earth sings us to sleep
the fatal hum a promise to keep

I think U and me are meant to be-
and if U disagree,
U will not be there to see
for i have shed our blood and buried are we.
( a lovers promise made and kept)
idk Jan 2019
i.
my tounge got stuck to the pole when i licked it,
just like momma said it would.
and when i played with those matches
my fingers had to be bandaged, they were so red and burned.

ii.
this could be a poem about the savagery of nature, the pain and the love the wind and the fire that is inherent on earth.

iii.
instead it’s a poem about people, because they always touch things they shouldn’t.

iv.
i touched the flames, and the man touched the girl when she hadn’t wanted him too. all i ever think about when i hear that story is that i wish she had something toxic in her veins, some poison to melt him to nothing.

v.
god should have made girls deadly if he was going to make monsters out of men.
idk Apr 2019
i.
my tounge got stuck to the pole when i licked it,
just like momma said it would.
and when i played with those matches
my fingers had to be bandaged, they were so red and burned.

ii.
this could be a poem about the savagery of nature, the pain and the love the wind and the fire that is inherent on earth.

iii.
instead it’s a poem about people, because they always touch things they shouldn’t.

iv.
i touched the flames, and the man touched the girl when she hadn’t wanted him too. all i ever think about when i hear that story is that i wish she had something toxic in her veins, some poison to melt him to nothing.

v.
god should have made girls deadly if he was going to make monsters out of men.
idk Jan 2019
you’ve got it all wrong, momma.
flaunting your grief,
striping that poor sycamore down to a ghost off tree.
we revel in skeletons,
and find the clean lines
that divide
what is right and what is wrong.
sensous and economical,
the dead sing us songs i am learning to answer.
you would never understand the appeal
of power.
am i a hypothetical to you?
bow to me, forgotten godesss.
broken girls find solace in persephone.
i’m learning new words like pomegranate,
a word you can **** on.
pom- thick, round, bittersweet bulge.
e- the one you slide over to get to gran,
a slow swelling, cancer or the rose.
finally granate, stones stopping your heart cold.
pomegranate, a word you spit out, seeds sticking to your teeth,. don’t you see i never could have stayed?
you only want gods who water your crops, who let you bow beneath their thrones, if you do so quietly.
i want my own throne, and i want to be loud. i want to disscus the fulitlity of existence, the burden of immortality.
i want a life like my dearest pomegranates,
bittersweet and complex.
in short, i left for a reason.
i am not your daughter anymore.
idk Dec 2018
ˈpridē boi/
noun

1. The world is not a love poem. When people think of you, they think of all the stars in your eyes. How they want to see space through your perspective.


2. They love you, do they do not know why. You are polarizing but with two broken halves. They feel butterflies of great endearment fluttering in their stomachs, the kinds that strangers might call destiny. the love of the curious for the curiosity.

3. Roses and dandelions. The air smells like fresh milk and lilac perfume. When we think of you we think of Their words, that seem to come through the mist. All those forgotten flowers. What was allowed and what wasn’t?

4. Electricity in your veins and stars in your eyes. Do you miss the wind or do you miss the flames? Maybe we’re all cabinets of wonders.
idk Jan 2019
i.
sometimes i think a lot about what i do not understand

ii.
you’re at the top of the list.

iii.
maybe i like that, the idea of trying to figure you out. i used to solve rubix cubes over and over. i wasn’t fast, i took my time, trying to understand where all the pieces would go to make it whole again.
you’re like a broken rubix cubes- impossible to solve, but people try nonetheless.

iv.
i’m not going to pretend i didn’t hope that i could finally figure you out, simplify  your complexity as easily as arthur slid the sword from the stone.

v.
maybe it’s not “i do not understand.” maybe what i should say is “i don’t know.” does anyone know, really? can anyone solve the puzzle that is you?

vi.
maybe i don’t want them too.

vi.
i guess all there’s left to say now is sorry.
idk Dec 2018
/silk/
noun

1. Promise the wind and the moon that you will be there. They will be waiting. Touch the fabric of your dress over and over in your nervousness. Watch the ends fray.

2. Days pass. Nights pass. The wind and the moon continue to whisper among themselves. Feel the light of the stars. Doesn't it feel familiar? Touch the braids in your hair over and over. What are you missing?

3. delicate. wish for all things blue and white and red. Pretend you can't hear the voices that have come. they are still waiting.
idk Sep 2019
the heartbeat of the earth fuels the swell, yet it always shatters against the sand

rain drips behind cracks in the alleyways,
collected by those who water the flowers daily


and when the buds bloom in spring
even the waves are still.

[ to admire their beauty. ]
idk Dec 2018
spriNG/
noun

1.new. Squeaky clean and ready for life to tear its guts out and use it for seasoning. Ready for the slaughter house.

2. Scared. It’s has seen to much and wants to run away. They all run. Life has left scars that no animal could leave. Prepare for it to come again, year after year.

3. Breathe. It’s over and mist turns into heat. The memory is still there- blooming flowers and the unmistakable smell of blood. Everyone’s favorite time of year leads into another season.
idk Feb 2019
you’ll never know //
i felt this way about you

you’ll never know //
i saw you in my dreams

you’ll never know //
all i ever wanted
was for you to be with me
idk Mar 2019
as i face the impeding storm
and the rain fills my lungs
              with desperation and
                            adrenaline
i realize the solution is not to swim
                         it is to drown
idk Dec 2018
ˈsənˌSHīn/
Noun

1. And you can feel it on your arms, in your hair and in your soul. perfect soft light filling the air with a sweet hum.

2. you can remember the feeling but can’t conjure what it feels like. Something you aren’t nostalgic for until it’s happening.
Chase it into the horizon. Never come back.

3. Replace the stars in your head with it. let  it fill your mind with dreams of fairy tales with happy endings and wildflower forests.
idk Jun 2019
short little story I wrote, and it was published in Inkitt!!!!**

I’ve always played the piano, ever since I was a little girl. I started taking lessons from my neighbor when I was seven years old, and on my tenth birthday my family moved- in the living room was a lovely wooden grand piano. My favorite songs to play are soundtracks to plays and old movies. I imagine myself in the starring role, with bleach blonde hair and bold red lipstick. If I close my eyes, I imagine myself playing my piano and singing to the audience. I’m lousy at singing, Mommy says it’s my age. My voice gets weak when I try to sing very high, and I’m not much good at singing low. But I picture it anyway.
When I do math homework, as I am doing right now, the numbers turn to music notes and the symbols to dynamics, and I get caught up in the fantasy- I pretend my pencil is a baton and I am conducting an orchestra, the audience applauding me after we finish and take a bow.
“Dottie.” Mommy stands in the kitchen, looking at me. I look down at my math homework, and I have not written anything down. My pencil was too busy leading my imaginary symphony. She turns back to the onions she was slicing, satisfied that I’ve come back down to earth. I could never imagine having a life like hers. Mommy doesn’t work, she stays at our house while my brother and I are at school. She does all the cooking, the cleaning, the darning, the ironing, the consoling, and every other thing I could think of. I have too many dreams of music and movies to stay in one place like that and dedicate my life to my family. If I even have one- the idea of having kids makes me feel icky. But Mommy seems so happy. She is smiling right now, humming along to “Dancing Queen” as it plays on the radio behind her. She has a college degree, in business. I’ve seen the paper in the frame in her bedroom. In has her name on it in big curly letters.
I look down at my math homework again, but a bright red ladybug is crawling across the page. It is cherry red with little black spots. I often wonder if bugs remember their home, or get homesick. They travel so far and explore so many different homes, it must be impossible to find their way back. Or maybe bugs are just bugs. Mommy says I am “over-analytical.” I think ladybugs are the friendliest insect (if anybody’s counting.) It crawls over my fingers and into the palm of my hand, unshielding its delicate little wings and flying into the air and onto the windowsill. It crawls back through the open pane, and out of my little world. How I would love to be a ladybug.
idk Jul 2019
a long time ago i wrote a poem about living in a house full of closed doors
(i felt like my hands were not my own)

a boy in my english class read it and told me he lives in a house full of shame
there’s a hallway of closets but each one is the same
he said nobody would let him open the doors
but everybody wanted him too

i fell in love with him then
but i cannot love anyone in these decaying bones

i moved on but i know
that there is always something to be won
but i am no good at competition

every step i take away from you
you return stronger
the riptide pulls me in and i drown
nobody can hear me floating in the dark

you wait for me at the bottom of the stairs
the door is closed
my mind is closed
we are closed

i turn and leave,
dropping the keys in the bowl before i go
idk Jan 2019
and the pain says, “i have come for you.”
and in your heart you know it’s true // how could you possibly ever recover from this? and you say, “you are too blinding// i don’t want to look.”
but you can // stare lady death straight in the eyes and take away her power.
“you cannot hurt me // i am lighter than air.” but you see // she can (because you’re dying, my friend) but instead she will kiss you instead of stab you // because death takes mercy not on the strong but the intellectual // and if you understand you are free.

your soul is a wall of pain // folding in on itself // your perfectly numbered reality slipping away.

and death says, “i have mercy and i have fire.” you pick fire, for the flames in your chest and the flames in your head // turning your heart to ashes.

your soul is a wall of thorns. the pain says “what can i do for you?” and all you want it to do is take you, take you instead. but you do not say that // because death has no power and your hands are your own.

you say “nothing. this is a dream from which i know i will wake.” // your heart is a wall of storm clouds, and the thunder offers to lend you its strength. instead, you lend your shoulders // and your hands.

life shivers // melts // moves on (and it continues without us.) and the pain says “i have come for you.” in the heart wherim a strangers words lurk // a conquered promise of more time lies // not of comfort but hope (and you learn to understand the aching of your body.)

stars are lost to deep space, and caught in the obliviousness of it continues to fade. and in one thousand years she will walk the place where mother nature has taken back your bones // and you will understand.

but we will never understand death // because within each lifetime, each year, each day, each breath granted we are taunting her // asking for her to come shrink our infinites to nothing.

and it is this affliction that shows us nothing is born of soil and space // that the leisure of thought cannot conquer her.
when you die // you escape this laybrinth of suffering (which is the reason for death, the kindest angel of them all)

and you look to this all encompassing pain // and say “yes. let us embrace as equals.”
for the lady in the stars
idk Jun 2019
she’s young and fresh like lettuce leaves,
// warm and sweet like summers best peaches

she waits at the door for you, just so she can open it //
when we walk through she skips ahead, spinning in dizzying circles

she smiles and i lose track of time
// i feel the cameraman- she is the art i am watching unfold before me

when we all became, simultaneously,
i wonder if she was too close or too far to the blast //
maybe she’s not supposed to he here

when we all fell from grace there were some beyond us, waiting with widened eyes and dripping teeth for us to fail

she has no vendetta
she takes what is ready
young or old, healthy or sick

maybe she’s lost

/ maybe she’s found, right here /
idk Jan 2019
i.
between adjectives and history, math and PE, school never taught us that colors lie.
welcome to your new education.

ii.
yellow is a happy color.
in school they teach us about vincent van gogh, and how he ate yellow paint because he thought if he had a happy color in his veins, he would be happy, too. the paper-girls who exercise fake distress think that’s romantic. it’s not.

iii.
secretly i wonder if i washed out all my tears and replaced them with acrylic, if i opened up my rib cage instead of my broken bleeding heart they would be only yellow.

iv.
yellow is the color of broth in aphabet soup, you make for me when i am sick. today i’m not sick, i just couldn’t bear to go to school- feel the stares of all the golden children on the back of my neck.
you are nowhere to be found, there is just the yellow broth beneath the letters in my soup. i can feel it staring up at me and now i really do feel sick.
there is only yellow.

v.
yellow is the color of the record you play when you don’t want to talk. you turn it up so loud that i can feel it in my bones. i go to my room and shut the door just a bit too hard, where yellow sunbeams light up my room like lasers.

vi.
i am conflicted.
yellow lights up the world and sunshine lights up my body. i used to think that’s romantic. it’s not. yellow is supposed to be a happy color. the broth in my soup and the record you put on and vincent van gogh play in my head like mice when the cats away.

vii.
i wonder i can falsify to prying eyes that i love sunshine because i am happy.
i wonder if i can prove to my dying mind that i love yellow because it is a cure?

vii.
i wish inside of insides, i was full of sunshine.
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