"andthe" poems
muteness
this dyin' out which
the fay of sleeping trundles
is
lurid
it
stings deeply
very drab
and doesn't
its shoulders
jeweled
gleaming
most
its muscles
sore
andthe
sloping crease
of its hips eat
the timid easy fingers of dawn
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
i like you dyin'
your blissfully crisp
lucious pulled
tightly dyin'. your
bursting thinness the
skinny your arms
the(bytheway) your eyes
which(shining)gleam faultless eternal
andthe
your whynot perfectly hips
which carry like the burning of my cut
(with your cut)to
meet
; as ships
i and think do you
like dyin'
and you i like
(and like you i) a girl that
likes girls
(dyin')
likes
i
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
When I was 16
I thought love was a miracle.
Stars aligning and a lightning strike.
I just had to wait,
be in the right place -
a classroom, a gym class, a Target -
and my hair and my body and my acne and and my teeth and my body and my body and my body,
wouldn't matter.
I would know what it felt like
to be happy.
When I was 18
I thought love was a cure.
I developed an aching.
A gnawing emptiness;
and I couldn't tell where I began anymore.
Like a moss on a rock,
sadness made my body a home and
my tears kept it growing.
Growing,
Growing-
gone.
I was tragedy
and love, of course Love,
would save me.
When I was 20
I thought love was a game.
I fell in love with a someone
who never wanted to love me.
The pain was...
excruciating -
and I had never felt more alive.
It was the thrill of strategy, you see.
Get a little skinnier,
buy a better bra,
send drunk texts that you
can blame on blacking out,
flirt with other men,
touch other men,
kiss other men,
lay with other men.
Lose yourself in other men.
Lose the game.
I learned that love was never meant
for playing.
When I met you
I thought love was fear.
Loving you was
like holding a butterfly
too tight - killing it
when you were only
trying to keep it safe.
You, you, you,
beautiful and honest and fierce,
you loved me like answering a prayer.
I loved you like a nightmare.
The fear was suffocating.
and we had to die
before I could wake.
Honey,
I am awake now.
Today I love you
and this love is
river water flowing,
even breathing.
Steady.
Love is trust.
(Don't mind my shaking hands, darling.
I'm not scared, this is just a reflex.)
You are the definition of risk and reward and I do love you so.
I love you determined, I love you brave, I love you happily.
You are the calm and the reality and the quiet observer andthe hand to hold.
I am the hurricane and the optimist and the hand-shaker and the declaration of love.
We are not the same but
I am 22 and,
I think
I believe
I know,
we are love.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 7:38 PM UTC
norstram apetite
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AMTER ATAJHATERRES
MAD HAETATERES
JAKECKAING TO THEIR OWN FECESS
LAIAND AN TORN TAKE YOUR ******* LAGHINGAS FOR A ******* NICTOINE HYRDRAAGTION
GO AHEAD AND WHIELR UNTIL THE FUACKING XOOR TF/inFINALLY SHUTS
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 2:42 AM UTC