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"admitted" poems
1695 There is a solitude of space A solitude of sea A solitude of death, but these Society shall be Compared with that profounder site That polar privacy A soul admitted to itself— Finite infinity.
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83.2k
There is a solitude of space
One. When my mom found us asleep in my bed at 4am and screamed at you to 'Get the **** OUT of her house,' you texted me the very next morning and asked to see me as though it never even happened. Two. When my family went out of town without me for Thanksgiving, we stayed the whole day at your place and watched foreign movies and ate pasta. Three. On our first date, we sat in your car until 3am just... talking. Four. When my sister really wanted that new Pokemon game and my local Walmart sold out, you voluntarily drove almost 5 towns over just so she could get it because you knew I couldn't for her. Five. The first time we had *** I cried. I still don't know why. You held me the whole time. Six. You woke me up with tickets to one of my favorite musicians of all time, for a tour I didn't even know about. Seven. When my dogs died, you stayed up with my the whole night as I cried. Both times. Eight. The first time you kissed me was at a gas pump at 10pm after I changed out of my blouse and into my hoodie. Nine. You took me to Buffalo Wild Wings even though you're a vegetarian. You even put up with my singing each 2008 Billboard Top 100 song as it played. I could tell you were embarrassed for me, but you laughed and kissed me anyway. Ten. When I told you I hadn't been to the art museum, you took me. When I told you I'd never been to Chipotle, you took me. When I told you I hadn't felt safe in years, you made me feel the safest I ever have. Eleven. After you kissed me the first time, you admitted the thing that "made" you kiss me was my purple-stained lips after I ate Superman ice cream while belting out songs terribly and sitting in the passenger seat of your car. Twelve. When I told you that you were a terrible tipper and I was a waitress, you immediately stopped tipping terribly. Thirteen. You left me a voicemail telling me you appreciated me, that you felt lucky to have me, and you claimed you didn't deserve me. While I disagree, I felt it. That was the first time I heard you say "I love you" before you had actually said the words "I love you."
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Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC
13 Ways You Said "I Love You" Without Actually Saying "I Love You"
One. When my mom found us asleep in my bed at 4am and screamed at you to 'Get the **** OUT of her house,' you texted me the very next morning and asked to see me as though it never even happened. Two. When my family went out of town without me for Thanksgiving, we stayed the whole day at your place and watched foreign movies and ate pasta. Three. On our first date, we sat in your car until 3am just... talking. Four. When my sister really wanted that new Pokemon game and my local Walmart sold out, you voluntarily drove almost 5 towns over just so she could get it because you knew I couldn't for her. Five. The first time we had *** I cried. I still don't know why. You held me the whole time. Six. You woke me up with tickets to one of my favorite musicians of all time, for a tour I didn't even know about. Seven. When my dogs died, you stayed up with my the whole night as I cried. Both times. Eight. The first time you kissed me was at a gas pump at 10pm after I changed out of my blouse and into my hoodie. Nine. You took me to Buffalo Wild Wings even though you're a vegetarian. You even put up with my singing each 2008 Billboard Top 100 song as it played. I could tell you were embarrassed for me, but you laughed and kissed me anyway. Ten. When I told you I hadn't been to the art museum, you took me. When I told you I'd never been to Chipotle, you took me. When I told you I hadn't felt safe in years, you made me feel the safest I ever have. Eleven. After you kissed me the first time, you admitted the thing that "made" you kiss me was my purple-stained lips after I ate Superman ice cream while belting out songs terribly and sitting in the passenger seat of your car. Twelve. When I told you that you were a terrible tipper and I was a waitress, you immediately stopped tipping terribly. Thirteen. You left me a voicemail telling me you appreciated me, that you felt lucky to have me, and you claimed you didn't deserve me. While I disagree, I felt it. That was the first time I heard you say "I love you" before you had actually said the words "I love you."
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The bloom of the cut rose leaks into the water glass. She fixes breakfast. I sit thereabouts waiting. I trouble my coffee with a spoon. Her slippers scuff softly on the floor. Her dreaming slowly leaves her eyes. I rub my homely morning face. The finger of a tree taps the glass. It will not be admitted with the pale, newborn light. The world already goes its way. It minds if we are slow to follow. The street grumbles at my well-used robe. Matins bells predict a running out. We keep our peace longer than we should.
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Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 8:50 AM UTC
Kitchen Talk
Two thousand and ten, that's when I noticed my heart beat for you. Two thousand and ten, I thought I was crazy to even look at you. I've been here for you, I've cried with you, I've admitted I wanted to die to you. I've also left you passed out drunk of the floor, just so I wouldn't kiss you. Two thousand and eleven, suicide strikes and you disappear. It's hard on me too, I'm always here for you. Let me cry with you, I always say how I'd rescue you. Two thousand and twelve, I admit my love for you, you love me too? I'm not a real girl to you. You said you always wanted to know, so go, kiss me. You made my heart skip a beat. You make me nervous, you make me look twice after we kiss. Your beard scratched my neck, you make my eyes roll back, with a simple press of your perfect lips. And, those finger tips, tracing me, learning me, finally touching me. Two thousand and twelve, if you leave now I have no where to go. I'm starting to feel low, nothing that good could be so wrong. Maybe some clarity will bring us to where we belong.
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Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
Beard
I always saw myself as a mere sunflower in your world of roses until the night we were lying in your basement and you quietly admitted you thought sunflowers were the most beautiful flower of them all now I'm your sunflower in a world of roses
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Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
sunflower
He told me he is giving her roses. The boy, who yesterday I finally admitted I love. The boy, who the day before that , kissed me. The boy, who a week before that told me I was his forever, and I said the same. The boy, who has my heart. Is giving her roses...
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May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
The Boy
Describe fires in riverbottom sand, and the cooking; the cooking of hot dogs spitted in whittled sticks over flames of woodfire with grease dropping in smoke to brown and blacken the salty hotdogs, and the wine, and the work on the railroad. $275,000,000,000.00 in debt says the Government Two hundred and seventy five billion dollars in debt Like Unending Heaven And Unnumbered Sentient Beings Who will be admitted - Not-Numberable - To the new Pair of Shoes Of White Guru Fleece O j o ! The Purple Paradise
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5.8k
3rd Chorus Mexico City Blues
My chest aches As tears threaten the corners of My eyes They're dry Like the wind She really damaged me Y'know I don't like to admit it I'd rather just hide The scars Are red from scathing acid It's not like you can see them She didn't hit me Afterall We went through a lot That's what we said Back then She told them She might love Only me She never told She never showed it either I knew I loved her More Or less she admitted it It feels like a curse The people I deeply Love Others, too or more Which could be fine with him If it weren't for Her Inability to carry out Multiple relationships Or at least to care about what I felt Alone and abandoned Unloved and unworthy To her I wasn't Apparently She loved me more I don't care that she never told me Just that She never showed me Lasting love or compassion Never proved that poly works And then poly came up again With him I'm sad about it The idea makes me feel broken I'm so sorry I don't want poly
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Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 11:43 PM UTC
Poly Trauma
It makes me sad that I can't tell about all the things that have happened since we last spoke. Like: "I've started to smoke." And you'd tell me to "be careful," even though it's *** not cigarettes. I finally have a job that wasn't easy to get. It's that barbecue place I told you about- the one that hired me in the summer when we were still together. I wish you read the poems I wrote you, and at the same time I'm glad you didn't, because in them are a lot of things I only admitted with word and on paper. Like: "I loved you... and still do." I'm not sure if you broke my heart or just hardened it against everyone frozen. I was thinking about you most when... I was going to try to think of something, but never mind, because I realized I think about you all the time. You were my heaven on earth, but thanks to God, without you, the world's hell.
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Cold-Hearted
This is my gift to you words a form so lacking in all stability, security that we chew them and spit them out so they’re done over intangible. You may throw them away from the back of your throat to the tip of your tongue in one wave one simple wave of movement and then we can all forget the silly things I’ve said admitted denied and will not be caught out by sources that say otherwise. This is my gift to you: One free ticket to forget me what a prize to be hypnotized   People pay a lot for that **** You see, when I make awkward eye contact with my morning mirror and delve into my makeup bag for assistance in eye liner my fingers always find that pit and slip into a ring that’s been tossed to the bottom rings entwined with rings entwined with poor judgement. They sit and wait in their scuffed coats, like waiting for a bus waiting to remind me remember that time? This is my gift to you. A present that says ‘I am not permanent’ because believe me, I’m not. But if I have to wake up to break ups bound in highly unreactive gold then at least let me free you of these chains too. It’s just such a shame that they suit you.
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Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
At The Bottom of the Ocean
to more than I can be... a sad isolated man, throes of an agonizing, stretched by her for painful revengeful gain, kissed with pointless avarice, divorce. children deeming him alienating, his faulty insensitive sensitivities, to easy blame little do they know of the piercing lowliness, the looniness of nights he listened to sad-eyed singers, and his late-of-mid of night scribbled scripts, where he off loaded the agonies of a midlife disaster, not entirely of his-own sown making, but still his to bear and bare alone... some accidents happens for unintentional, unintended intentional new seasons appear, stumbled, tumbled, fumbled his way onto this H~oly P~lace, where someone might listen to his explanations, expiations, excoriations of his all too common tragedy, and said: this broken human, he's got his reasons, read his overly long treatises, his entreaties, to those that prowl, rowing, in this corner of the silence of the internet, where only the trolls, the cold, the easier to-be-meaner oft thrive, and found none of that, but an oasis of sheltering, embracing comforting, those who actually admitted his writings could be loved, and perhaps the writer himself, was deserving of a second chance, a verbal embrace. a rereading forgiveness, a pat on his natback, a sympathetic sensory intaking, and perhaps-this debt, eternal, that put the for and the fore in a new baby born, named - new forever came into existence the very same e that begins those conjoined words ***e~ternally grateful "and now  I sleep in peace when the day is done" but the night time is still the write time
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Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC
lest you forget, you raised me up...
to more than I can be... a sad isolated man, throes of an agonizing, stretched by her for painful revengeful gain, kissed with pointless avarice, divorce. children deeming him alienating, his faulty insensitive sensitivities, to easy blame little do they know of the piercing lowliness, the looniness of nights he listened to sad-eyed singers, and his late-of-mid of night scribbled scripts, where he off loaded the agonies of a midlife disaster, not entirely of his-own sown making, but still his to bear and bare alone... some accidents happens for unintentional, unintended intentional new seasons appear, stumbled, tumbled, fumbled his way onto this H~oly P~lace, where someone might listen to his explanations, expiations, excoriations of his all too common tragedy, and said: this broken human, he's got his reasons, read his overly long treatises, his entreaties, to those that prowl, rowing, in this corner of the silence of the internet, where only the trolls, the cold, the easier to-be-meaner oft thrive, and found none of that, but an oasis of sheltering, embracing comforting, those who actually admitted his writings could be loved, and perhaps the writer himself, was deserving of a second chance, a verbal embrace. a rereading forgiveness, a pat on his natback, a sympathetic sensory intaking, and perhaps-this debt, eternal, that put the for and the fore in a new baby born, named - new forever came into existence the very same e that begins those conjoined words ***e~ternally grateful "and now  I sleep in peace when the day is done" but the night time is still the write time
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I hadn't heard from you in a while, so last night I humored the notion of you, intrigued. You asked me how I was, high off your *** on Vicodin. Drunk off my *** on red wine, I admitted I wasn't doing So well. So, well, We spoke for a while, and I admitted a lot of **** Well, **** More than you bargained for, I'm sure. So sure, You called me out on my mistakes like you always have: Telling me that I was far too lovely, To be so ******* lonely That I would waste such a beautiful side of myself, In so willingly giving so much of myself Away. And in a way, I know that you're right; And I can't just pretend I'm alright. I need to buck up and make all things right. Holy **** what a night.
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Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 11:48 AM UTC
All Right, Alright?
I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in full on conjugation raken and taken, me, her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held in my maledom abeyance, a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing, de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications, excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation, ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest, in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking, “user of words mine, all mine” gathered up my innards of loose words, speculative notes & titles yet to be, born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files, now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create, a homeless mute citizen, possession-less, helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent, without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet she celebratory cackled and clawed, professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors, zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly, with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing, warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands, daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship, warning of a new, forced caining inscription, a tattooing of  “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ****** “plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm I, predator, she, victim, of my now self-professed, admitted confess, she, my single victim, of a decade long serializing criminal coverup her parting poem a threatening, herein issued in this very verse, damning all who would falsely credit themselves, to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse, this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures, with warning bitings, she knew all my my numerous noms de guerre, no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day, and if ever marked as copyrighted, ’twas no tunneling escape, the exposed truth to be over-stamped upon all, upon each, in every language, ”copied right from the tongue of a woman!” and she would be wright...
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May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
slept with my rapacious pen (she, full on conjugation)
I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in full on conjugation raken and taken, me, her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held in my maledom abeyance, a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing, de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications, excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation, ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest, in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking, “user of words mine, all mine” gathered up my innards of loose words, speculative notes & titles yet to be, born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files, now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create, a homeless mute citizen, possession-less, helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent, without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet she celebratory cackled and clawed, professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors, zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly, with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing, warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands, daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship, warning of a new, forced caining inscription, a tattooing of  “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ****** “plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm I, predator, she, victim, of my now self-professed, admitted confess, she, my single victim, of a decade long serializing criminal coverup her parting poem a threatening, herein issued in this very verse, damning all who would falsely credit themselves, to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse, this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures, with warning bitings, she knew all my my numerous noms de guerre, no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day, and if ever marked as copyrighted, ’twas no tunneling escape, the exposed truth to be over-stamped upon all, upon each, in every language, ”copied right from the tongue of a woman!” and she would be wright...
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Suicidal tendencies, alleged attempt in 2011 (National Scholar-Athlete) Bipolar with psychotic features, meds necessary (President of student government) Anti-social features, deceptive, manipulative, lying. (Captain of varsity athletics) Qualifies as a pickup. Forfeits all rights. Police involvement if necessary. (President of an all-star rugby club) Extreme aggression. Any homicidal idealization should be taken seriously. (Trustee Scholarship to a renown private college) Narcotics abuse. Marijuana, LSD, Klonopin, ******* Alcohol, Painkillers (3.7 GPA) Masks and shields intentions. Deceptive with professionals. (Active volunteer) I advise that he be admitted to a hospital immediately (Participant in community) Drug abuse counseling, medication, extensive therapy necessary (Leader of peers) Diagnoses fly like a panhandlers love affairs Your inexact science is a disgrace to what I've created A philosophy based on your experience Ignoring the dynamic of the human condition ****** for feeling to much ****** for not feeling enough
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Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
Alleged Dichotomy - Notes from a Doctor
My bf works in Geneva, Switzerland. I go to school in New Haven. We Facetime a lot - but it’s not ideal. “I wanted to tell you, that it’s been nice.” I told him somberly. “What do you mean?” He asked after a moment. “Well,” I began, “You know how I like to go down to the harbor and watch the ocean?” “Yeah,” he answered. “Well, I was down there this evening and the sun plunged into the sea and it got dark. I think we’re all going to die.” “Anais, you’re on the east coast,” he reported. “That’s true,” I confirmed (New York’s on the east coast and it’s 60 miles away). “The sun rises in the east and sets in the west.” He explained. “ocean sunsets only happen on the west coast.” “Really?’ I said, flabbergasted, “I never noticed that.” “Yeah,” he reiterated. “I have a confession,” I admitted, sighing. “What’s that?” He enquired. “I made it up, the sun and sea thing,” I admitted. “For real?” He followed up. “Yeah,” I said. “Why?” he asked. “Nothing happens, when you’re not here,” I disclosed, “It’s SO dull, I’m dull, I’m afraid of underwhelming you.” “We’re going to die someday,” he assured me, consolingly. . . songs for this: I Can’t Remember Love by Anna Hauss So In Love by k.d. lang It’s the End of the world as we know it by REM The end of the world by Skeeter Davis
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Apr 20, 2024
Apr 20, 2024 at 9:44 PM UTC
then the sun plunged into the sea
Reputation, Reputation this is how you play If you mess up your status will change B    e       W           i              t                h                            H                         e                            r Or      F        o           r             g               e                  t                                    H                        e                           r Be with me or forget me It’s your choose You’ve kept my letters We’ve taken walks together You’ve admitted you like me and want to be with me But apparently your rep means more So you won’t go around with the girl who’s a beauty behind a pokeball hat So I’ll sit here like a broken record repeating our good times together In my head over and over again and again Even though we part ways in the end Not that there will ever be anymore good times Not with us together anyway Just so you know I’ll be here for you Always What’s strange is you never got that...social with a girl except for me You act like you’ve moved on But there’s no other girl I think it’s pretty clear we both know you haven’t moved on But you still pretend to and ignore me While holding on to my words and drawings Sometimes it just feels like your toying with me You play the game for the trophy and nothing more What does that tell you
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC
Reputation
Reputation, Reputation this is how you play If you mess up your status will change B    e       W           i              t                h                            H                         e                            r Or      F        o           r             g               e                  t                                    H                        e                           r Be with me or forget me It’s your choose You’ve kept my letters We’ve taken walks together You’ve admitted you like me and want to be with me But apparently your rep means more So you won’t go around with the girl who’s a beauty behind a pokeball hat So I’ll sit here like a broken record repeating our good times together In my head over and over again and again Even though we part ways in the end Not that there will ever be anymore good times Not with us together anyway Just so you know I’ll be here for you Always What’s strange is you never got that...social with a girl except for me You act like you’ve moved on But there’s no other girl I think it’s pretty clear we both know you haven’t moved on But you still pretend to and ignore me While holding on to my words and drawings Sometimes it just feels like your toying with me You play the game for the trophy and nothing more What does that tell you
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You admitted a weakness, A sweetness in your honesty But I never imagined it could be. A glance caught, A laugh shared with ease, A fool, that's me. So simply self convinced, No chance for this. But then, a light touch to knee... And like that day you shook my hand, We met. And now I see. So much to learn for This is your world, This language is is not me. But I'm a fool who wants to learn, Teach me.
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
We met
HOW UNPLEASANT TO KNOW MR. CROW "Hello!" said the crow. "Hello?" I answered thinking: ("Talking to crows is a bit of a no-no?") "Do I know you?" I asked politely. "I'm Ted Hughes' CROW ....you know!" "I didn't know that! I admitted. "You look like every other crow there is to know." I impolitely pointed out. "Every crow is CROW!" it pointedly pointed out. "Say...something Ted Hughes-ish then!" I challenged it. "In the beginning was..." "...scream!" crow screamed and then a load of begatting to give the Bible a run for its money. Nothing and Never both begatted to make crow. It made me remember the only time I had been in Mr. Hughes' presence. One shift leading into another shift and yet another shift so that it was falling with tiredness I was. Was it on Thursday I was to meet the girlfriend on Friday Street or Friday I...just didn't know no more. Ted grasped the podium with crooked  hands as if he were Tennyson's EAGLE or a Heathcliff grown old. He glared down on me. I trying not to fall asleep. He like a cliff come alive as if rocks could talk. His words....CROW'S words. Ted now merging into the crow gazing upon me as if I were carrion. Crow now losing his human voice. His raucous caw echoing inside my head as he takes to the skies. I should have listened to what my mum said. "Don't talk to strange corvids!"
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Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 3:35 AM UTC
HOW UNPLEASANT TO KNOW MR. CROW
I don't ask you to be faithful - you're beautiful, after all - but just that I be spared the pain of knowing. I make no stringent demands that you should really be chaste, but only that you try to cover up. If a girl can claim to be pure, it's the same as being pure: it's only admitted vice that makes for scandal. What madness, to confess by day what's wrapped in night, and what you've done in secret, openly tell! The ****** about to bed some Roman off the street still locks her door first, keeping out the crowd: will you yourself then make your sins notorious, accusing and prosecuting your own crime? Be wise, and learn at least to imitate chaste girls, and let me believe you're good, though you are not. Do what you do, but simply deny you ever did: there's nothing wrong with public modesty. There is a proper place for looseness: fill it up with all voluptuousness, and banish shame; but when you're done there, then put off all playfulness and leave your indiscretions in your bed. There, don't be ashamed to lay your gown aside and press your thigh against a pressing thigh; there take and give deep kisses with your crimson lips; let love contrive a thousand ways of passion; there let delighted words and moans come ceaselessly, and make the mattress quiver with playful motion. But put on with your clothes a face that's all discretion, and let Shame disavow your shocking deeds. Trick everyone, trick me: leave me in ignorance; let me enjoy the life of a happy fool. Why must I see so often notes received - and sent? Why must I see two imprints on your bed, or your hair disarrayed much more than sleep could do? Why must I notice love bites on your neck? You all but flaunt your indiscretions in my face. Think of me, if not of your reputation. I lose my mind, I die, when you confess you've sinned; I break out in cold sweat from hand to foot; I love you then, and hate you - in vain, since I must love you; I wish then I were dead - and you were too! I won't investigate or check whatever you try to hide: I will be thankful to be deceived. But even if I catch you in the very act and look on your disgrace with my own eyes, deny that I have seen what I have clearly seen, and my eyes will agree with what you claim. You'll win an easy prize from a man who wants to lose, only remember to say, 'I didn't do it.' Since you can gain your victory with one short phrase, win on account of your judge, if not your case.
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3.4k
On fidelity
I don't ask you to be faithful - you're beautiful, after all - but just that I be spared the pain of knowing. I make no stringent demands that you should really be chaste, but only that you try to cover up. If a girl can claim to be pure, it's the same as being pure: it's only admitted vice that makes for scandal. What madness, to confess by day what's wrapped in night, and what you've done in secret, openly tell! The ****** about to bed some Roman off the street still locks her door first, keeping out the crowd: will you yourself then make your sins notorious, accusing and prosecuting your own crime? Be wise, and learn at least to imitate chaste girls, and let me believe you're good, though you are not. Do what you do, but simply deny you ever did: there's nothing wrong with public modesty. There is a proper place for looseness: fill it up with all voluptuousness, and banish shame; but when you're done there, then put off all playfulness and leave your indiscretions in your bed. There, don't be ashamed to lay your gown aside and press your thigh against a pressing thigh; there take and give deep kisses with your crimson lips; let love contrive a thousand ways of passion; there let delighted words and moans come ceaselessly, and make the mattress quiver with playful motion. But put on with your clothes a face that's all discretion, and let Shame disavow your shocking deeds. Trick everyone, trick me: leave me in ignorance; let me enjoy the life of a happy fool. Why must I see so often notes received - and sent? Why must I see two imprints on your bed, or your hair disarrayed much more than sleep could do? Why must I notice love bites on your neck? You all but flaunt your indiscretions in my face. Think of me, if not of your reputation. I lose my mind, I die, when you confess you've sinned; I break out in cold sweat from hand to foot; I love you then, and hate you - in vain, since I must love you; I wish then I were dead - and you were too! I won't investigate or check whatever you try to hide: I will be thankful to be deceived. But even if I catch you in the very act and look on your disgrace with my own eyes, deny that I have seen what I have clearly seen, and my eyes will agree with what you claim. You'll win an easy prize from a man who wants to lose, only remember to say, 'I didn't do it.' Since you can gain your victory with one short phrase, win on account of your judge, if not your case.
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50
It has been so hard to keep this secret, even harder to accept that it was who I was. I never wanted to be, who you wanted me to be. You tormented me, when all I wanted to do was prove you wrong. I was in denial for most of my life, never wanting to accept who I was because of what you'd say. When I finally admitted it to myself, I found it necessary to tell the important two. Knowing I was accepted by them meant the world to me, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I thought everything was going to be okay, hoping it would stay that way. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I asked for your confidentiality, I thought I had received it. But, apparently I hadn't. Anxiously wondering what had happened, waiting for your response. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was ready to scream, I wanted to run, I wanted to be a million miles away. But I couldn't, I wasn't, I was there, living my worst nightmare. I couldn't breakdown, not there, not in front of them. I had to stay level headed, I couldn't let it get to me, but I couldn't. I wanted to cry, go back to my old ways, drown myself in misery that was my life. That night was worst, I was alone, hurt and emotionally unstable. I regret what I did that night, I promised myself, I promised you, I'd never do it again. But I needed relief. The pain was comforting, in that moment I felt like I was okay. Until I snapped back into reality. This was unhealthy, I wasn't going to let myself bleed out. Not again, I couldn't go to the hospital. It took a while, but it finally stopped. I could breathe again. My mind was clear, I was able to think. I was still angry, but I let myself feel the emotions until they were gone. I still couldn't believe it, I couldn't feel, I couldn't understand, I couldn't. Even though I felt betrayed, I was betrayed, you did me a favor. I couldn't lie. Not to myself, not to you, not to anyone else. The truth was out. Even though, I felt as if my heart was ripped out of my chest, mutilated and buried. I knew it wasn't your intention to hurt me. You helped me, you pushed me to do what I wanted to do for years. It did not happen perfectly, but it happened. It couldn't be taken back, I just had to deal with what had happened. This all could have been avoided, but my daddy tells me everything happens for a reason. There is no need to grieve over mistakes. Ultimately, it's not the end of the world. And what I gained was far more important. Self acceptance. I am okay with who I am. I am okay with who I choose to love. I am okay with life choices. It was you who told me it would be okay. It was you who stood by me. It was you who did not judge or ridicule. It was you who supported me, from the beginning. Thank you.
0
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Self Acceptance
It has been so hard to keep this secret, even harder to accept that it was who I was. I never wanted to be, who you wanted me to be. You tormented me, when all I wanted to do was prove you wrong. I was in denial for most of my life, never wanting to accept who I was because of what you'd say. When I finally admitted it to myself, I found it necessary to tell the important two. Knowing I was accepted by them meant the world to me, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I thought everything was going to be okay, hoping it would stay that way. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I asked for your confidentiality, I thought I had received it. But, apparently I hadn't. Anxiously wondering what had happened, waiting for your response. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was ready to scream, I wanted to run, I wanted to be a million miles away. But I couldn't, I wasn't, I was there, living my worst nightmare. I couldn't breakdown, not there, not in front of them. I had to stay level headed, I couldn't let it get to me, but I couldn't. I wanted to cry, go back to my old ways, drown myself in misery that was my life. That night was worst, I was alone, hurt and emotionally unstable. I regret what I did that night, I promised myself, I promised you, I'd never do it again. But I needed relief. The pain was comforting, in that moment I felt like I was okay. Until I snapped back into reality. This was unhealthy, I wasn't going to let myself bleed out. Not again, I couldn't go to the hospital. It took a while, but it finally stopped. I could breathe again. My mind was clear, I was able to think. I was still angry, but I let myself feel the emotions until they were gone. I still couldn't believe it, I couldn't feel, I couldn't understand, I couldn't. Even though I felt betrayed, I was betrayed, you did me a favor. I couldn't lie. Not to myself, not to you, not to anyone else. The truth was out. Even though, I felt as if my heart was ripped out of my chest, mutilated and buried. I knew it wasn't your intention to hurt me. You helped me, you pushed me to do what I wanted to do for years. It did not happen perfectly, but it happened. It couldn't be taken back, I just had to deal with what had happened. This all could have been avoided, but my daddy tells me everything happens for a reason. There is no need to grieve over mistakes. Ultimately, it's not the end of the world. And what I gained was far more important. Self acceptance. I am okay with who I am. I am okay with who I choose to love. I am okay with life choices. It was you who told me it would be okay. It was you who stood by me. It was you who did not judge or ridicule. It was you who supported me, from the beginning. Thank you.
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98
As the days get deeper So does the hole People start losing their unique ****** qualities The objects in your house become dull clutter Monday morphs into Tuesday and Tuesday morphs into Wednesday and Wednesday morphs into Thursday and All of a sudden you don’t know what day it is. The only thing that doesn’t lose its edge Are the words that pump out from your lung, to vibrate from your vocal cords, then are fine tuned from your larynx, and emanate from your articulators. Those are the words that stuff me deeper into the hole. Sometimes it’s not words but actions That burry me under and into the darkness. This hole I speak of, ***** you in and won’t let you out Until you’ve admitted defeat And hell, You’ll never live to see the day that I, Admit Defeat.
0
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
Defeat
I remember an old guy he was an alcoholic hospitalized with me, he used to cut his cigarette filter so it guests stronger, I do the same sometimes, I wonder what he’s doing now. When we used to ask him he used to say “I’m already messed up there’s nothing left to ruin” I wonder if he’s okay now if he finally has something to ruin, I wonder if I do too, and then I remember you. I remember your eyes looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters in this universe, I remember, how u could know if I was asleep or pretending to avoid a conversation, you said my eyes smiled when I fell asleep, I dont know what you meant by that, but it made me smile. I remember you proposing to me with a pine cone, and promising me you will do it again one day, but for real. I remember spending two days locked in a car with you, you were worried about me, you wouldn’t leave, we slept uncomfortably, but we were still comfortable cuz I was in your arms and you were in mine. I remember dancing with you in the er as we waited for me to be admitted, it was cringy and cheesy but I didn’t care, in your arms the only thing I care for is you. I remember your lips on mine and how they tasted, I remember how the universe exploded but disappeared at the same time when you kissed me for the first time. I remember when You pinned me me against the wall and kissed me as if I was the only running river in a drought. I remember the flowers I sent you and how you keep them, I remember how u put my birthday gift in a box filled with those same flowers that you dried, it was a necklace a ring with wings, it was a promise. A promise that one day, we’ll have everything, we’ll have a house with a garden, and cats, so many cats, one day we’ll have kids and I’ll tell them how much their dad loved their mom, that’s how they’ll learn what love really is, one day we will have something to ruin, we will have everything to ruin, but we won’t
0
Jun 24, 2022
Jun 24, 2022 at 12:22 PM UTC
Alcoholics, and something to lose
I remember an old guy he was an alcoholic hospitalized with me, he used to cut his cigarette filter so it guests stronger, I do the same sometimes, I wonder what he’s doing now. When we used to ask him he used to say “I’m already messed up there’s nothing left to ruin” I wonder if he’s okay now if he finally has something to ruin, I wonder if I do too, and then I remember you. I remember your eyes looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters in this universe, I remember, how u could know if I was asleep or pretending to avoid a conversation, you said my eyes smiled when I fell asleep, I dont know what you meant by that, but it made me smile. I remember you proposing to me with a pine cone, and promising me you will do it again one day, but for real. I remember spending two days locked in a car with you, you were worried about me, you wouldn’t leave, we slept uncomfortably, but we were still comfortable cuz I was in your arms and you were in mine. I remember dancing with you in the er as we waited for me to be admitted, it was cringy and cheesy but I didn’t care, in your arms the only thing I care for is you. I remember your lips on mine and how they tasted, I remember how the universe exploded but disappeared at the same time when you kissed me for the first time. I remember when You pinned me me against the wall and kissed me as if I was the only running river in a drought. I remember the flowers I sent you and how you keep them, I remember how u put my birthday gift in a box filled with those same flowers that you dried, it was a necklace a ring with wings, it was a promise. A promise that one day, we’ll have everything, we’ll have a house with a garden, and cats, so many cats, one day we’ll have kids and I’ll tell them how much their dad loved their mom, that’s how they’ll learn what love really is, one day we will have something to ruin, we will have everything to ruin, but we won’t
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2
All sorrow is perpendicular occurring at right angles of tragedy encircling the grief-stricken with straight edges only once intersecting across infinite planes— Don't dare draw the lines between points or shade the region with limits or curves because the trajectories of bullets are plotted on branes intolerant of slightest triangulation Woe unto the seekers of sine waves sobbing thinking of filling every trough believing surely by now we've offered enough to sate these bloodthirsty Euclidean demons Cresting won't ever arrive in this course filled to the brim with asymptotes, cold corollaries but never spilling over under our sacred pledge of allegiance to the 2nd Parallel Postulate No intersections can be admitted with thoughts & prayers extending outward barely co-planar serious public policy proposals axiomatic insistence on the Nirvana Theorem or nothing A set of all points remains, mutually exclusive motionless and always incongruent clueless about their own particular geometries awaiting radical Pythagorean salvation Some paradigm we’ve built here though! Two hundred years of living polygonal hand to elliptical mouth without tangential reflection on the unproven flatness of humanspace.
0
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
2 Geometric
I thought that unconditional love was selfless Until i admitted to myself i couldn't let you go That i can't live without you I think i convinced myself that we could only be happy together The truth is happiness can be found in many different places And you may find it without me That's what broke my heart the most.
0
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
"Selfish Love"