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"attracting" poems
The city is a grid of lights projected by man-made mountains built of glass and steel; they reflect, distorted off the glass surface of Lake Michigan. Good morning The sun rises with heavy-eyed commuters, homes filling with the smell of coffee; yesterday’s events are brought inside, rolled up in a blue plastic bag. Soon the traffic on the Dan Ryan will turn the stretch of road into a temporary parking lot. Life enters the veins of downtown; it heads down Michigan Avenue to the heart of The Loop. The ferris wheel at Navy Pier begins to turn hypnotically, attracting all walks of life. A Muslim passes a Christian on the street; they smile at each other; their backgrounds don’t matter. Someone is calling; someone is answering. Today is the best day for one, the worst day for another. The day does its job to go on Chicago fills its lungs, then exhales life back home. The sun colors buildings, traces of day to be soon replaced by the form of lit office windows. From a plane passing over, the grid is a chessboard waiting for the next day, the next game.
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Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 2:07 AM UTC
Chicago
But I would rather be horizontal. I am not a tree with my root in the soil ******* up minerals and motherly love So that each March I may gleam into leaf, Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted, Unknowing I must soon unpetal. Compared with me, a tree is immortal And a flower-head not tall, but more startling, And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring. Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars, The trees and flowers have been strewing their cool odors. I walk among them, but none of them are noticing. Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping I must most perfectly resemble them-- Thoughts gone dim. It is more natural to me, lying down. Then the sky and I are in open conversation, And I shall be useful when I lie down finally: The the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.
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15.1k
I Am Vertical
perhaps the reason you've been attracting conditional lovers, is because you haven't been uncoditionally loving yourself
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Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 10:11 AM UTC
78
Lone leatherback cruises up from the deep, pausing on the fragile reef to feast ancient eyes upon the show, a bright parade laid out below butterfly couples paired for life, graceful angels in black and white stripe brilliant clowns and their toxic lovers, a plodding gang of giant groupers puffers bob like comic balloons, humble gobies on every menu beaked parrotfish grinding the coral down, in the ears a constant sound cowfish blowing puckered kisses, sea stars catching fishy wishes white-tipped, hammerhead, tiger sharks, triggerfish mean bite worse than their bark untamed unicorns too wild to ride, dogfish snapping, biting alongside coral trout color-shifting fools, attracting ladies in dull-hued schools **** headed wrasse rumbling through, thick lips mumbling go get a room sea horses nod in labyrinth caves, razor-toothed eels lying in wait if tentacled embrace should be your fate, nudibranchs will light the way to a place of bliss, none of this can exist, without the builders coral and algae bewildered, the ways of man egotistical rising ocean temperatures, carbon emissions, and el Niño victim of abundant greed, say goodbye to the Great Barrier Reef so massive is this magical place, one can see it from outer space astronauts witness its demise, ninety-percent barren, bleached bone white.
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Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
Reef
Surveying northern autumn afternoon Pitcherelli, ex-marine, body-builder, Lussier, long-haired father of three dark-skinned children and myself, sharp-edged loner, ex-lover of a fair share of       women are belly-laughing in the dying sun. Clouds. The crew, in timber. Laughing over recent visits to marvelous cities where we could not keep ourselves from touching the terminal buds of numerous exotic trees and attracting ridicule of stylish girls and tame boyfriends. Pitcherelli before the Albany bus station shaking hands with a red pine planted thirty years ago. Lussier, one hand in a child's hand and the other feeling scabrous bark of urban woody plants. Myself among partially shaved heads and leathery aromatic       jackets getting close to the hairy bud of an unidentified poplar or       sycamore. People laughed, but we laughed best back on our mountain under the blackening weather.
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Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
Dendrology
It was an autumn day; a fresh aroma the air. Breathing in deeply, I was trapped in a snare. How was I loured into this dangerous trap, I just was not looking or even aware. There was a sweet sticky dew tasting like mead, This honey nectar turned my head to greed. Losing control I was going out of my mind, In a strange flower bed, I left my world behind. Now wondering in a deep psychedelic dream, I am floating eagerly down a rainbow stream. Tender fresh flesh standing bold and proud, Attracting prey with her bright coloured shroud. Giving in freely, about to be devoured. My censors telling me I was being deflowered. There were silky soft hairs all over my skin, Is a shocking end about to begin? If no one had noticed I was ensnared in this place, It may have all ended in humiliation and disgrace. Now in so deep I have lost all self control, It was as if a demon had stolen my soul. Just then a watchful serpent raised its head, Looking straight at me it hissed and said. “I can see you; you have had your fun, Now it is time to pay, or get out and run”. Shocked out of the dream, I saw my plight, What he said was true, I made my flight. Lucky to escape, my advice is here, If you see a Venus Flytrap, STAY CLEAR.
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Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 6:19 AM UTC
Venus Flytrap
You, with your supple and brown leather I, with my gaze fixed on my father’s pocket You, peeking out from its corner like a Child playing hide and seek in a desolate ally I, like the kidnapper, keeping an eye on your Fragile movements, waiting for you to stumble Into a dark corner and into my sinister embrace So that I could get my ransom inside you, the Little green strips of paper you contained Toys, chocolates and kites my father wouldn’t get me. You, with your expensive sheen, attracting me To yourself like a gold ring attracting an eagle Only to disappear as soon as my father left For work and you, containing an enigmatic exchange For little candies the definition of bliss to six year old me. I, with my naïve mind thinking why I would get less Candies and goodies when you would be frail And devoid of those thin green leaves. You, in the possession of my elder brother now I, eight year old me, wondering if your gauntness Made my father a dear departed. You, I didn’t unravel the enigma of your long Green leaves until I was thirteen and you Resided in the back pocket of the Khaki trousers My brother used to wear, Now Tattered just like your old unkempt skin. Dear Old Wallet, my dead father’s wallet I liked you better when you were fat and fit, Supple and shiny, brimming with coins and green leaves. And when I  was unaware, little and innocent thinking You were a miracle for I only wanted toys back then only to realize I need a lot more For I am now cold,  fatherless and bankrupt But you are empty and thin, just like my Dying mother.
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Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 2:58 AM UTC
Wallet
You, with your supple and brown leather I, with my gaze fixed on my father’s pocket You, peeking out from its corner like a Child playing hide and seek in a desolate ally I, like the kidnapper, keeping an eye on your Fragile movements, waiting for you to stumble Into a dark corner and into my sinister embrace So that I could get my ransom inside you, the Little green strips of paper you contained Toys, chocolates and kites my father wouldn’t get me. You, with your expensive sheen, attracting me To yourself like a gold ring attracting an eagle Only to disappear as soon as my father left For work and you, containing an enigmatic exchange For little candies the definition of bliss to six year old me. I, with my naïve mind thinking why I would get less Candies and goodies when you would be frail And devoid of those thin green leaves. You, in the possession of my elder brother now I, eight year old me, wondering if your gauntness Made my father a dear departed. You, I didn’t unravel the enigma of your long Green leaves until I was thirteen and you Resided in the back pocket of the Khaki trousers My brother used to wear, Now Tattered just like your old unkempt skin. Dear Old Wallet, my dead father’s wallet I liked you better when you were fat and fit, Supple and shiny, brimming with coins and green leaves. And when I  was unaware, little and innocent thinking You were a miracle for I only wanted toys back then only to realize I need a lot more For I am now cold,  fatherless and bankrupt But you are empty and thin, just like my Dying mother.
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35
The existence of us lied purely on conditional probability The probability that event A will happen with the knowledge that event B has already happened And if you asked me why I kissed you I would tell you I liked when our probability was me over you With your hands laying tangent to my curves I kissed you as much as I wanted and as much as I could If you asked me why I kissed you goodbye Even though you were not mine It was because time is only ever ticking away And if I run out of time I can’t kiss you The probability of you calling me beautiful was a 0.25 on the qualitative spectrum Unlikely. But you did and your voice sounded like honey sticking to the heartstrings in my chest, filling in the cracks, it was sweet Our probability quickly shifted from me over you to 1 over 6 very likely to unlikely and the conditional probability of you leaving seemed to take over any set equation I saw the curve in your lips decay faster day by day The eyes that I tried so hard to catch mine Don’t even make the effort to look in my direction And the honey you left in my chest turned sickly And it’s been there so long I think I’m attracting bees I lay my hands flat on your chest and I am touching you because I can’t help it because time is only ever ticking away And I’m crying Why am I crying? The memories are rushing back Your hand on my thigh in that blue dress Your arm around me in the parking lot I remember it was warm and you were talking to my mother You always had the charm to make me dance and that night I felt you in my bones 50/50 I thought we were 50/50 Now I’ve always preferred chemistry And we felt like a combustion formula But we were just probability and statistics And I’ve always hated math
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Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
Probability and Statistics
The existence of us lied purely on conditional probability The probability that event A will happen with the knowledge that event B has already happened And if you asked me why I kissed you I would tell you I liked when our probability was me over you With your hands laying tangent to my curves I kissed you as much as I wanted and as much as I could If you asked me why I kissed you goodbye Even though you were not mine It was because time is only ever ticking away And if I run out of time I can’t kiss you The probability of you calling me beautiful was a 0.25 on the qualitative spectrum Unlikely. But you did and your voice sounded like honey sticking to the heartstrings in my chest, filling in the cracks, it was sweet Our probability quickly shifted from me over you to 1 over 6 very likely to unlikely and the conditional probability of you leaving seemed to take over any set equation I saw the curve in your lips decay faster day by day The eyes that I tried so hard to catch mine Don’t even make the effort to look in my direction And the honey you left in my chest turned sickly And it’s been there so long I think I’m attracting bees I lay my hands flat on your chest and I am touching you because I can’t help it because time is only ever ticking away And I’m crying Why am I crying? The memories are rushing back Your hand on my thigh in that blue dress Your arm around me in the parking lot I remember it was warm and you were talking to my mother You always had the charm to make me dance and that night I felt you in my bones 50/50 I thought we were 50/50 Now I’ve always preferred chemistry And we felt like a combustion formula But we were just probability and statistics And I’ve always hated math
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41
Picture of girls face: 10 likes Picture of girls face featuring slightly/damn near totally visible ***** bumps: 5000 likes. What the **** people, its the SAME GIRL. Her **** are there in BOTH PICTURES yo. But due to the difference in likes, there's no doubt as to what the true focal point of the photographs are. Honestly, I'd much rather see a picture of a ladies face instead of one featuring the awesome breasticles. Because, while those **** do, without a doubt, totally rock, they should also be respected and like, viewed as something special for only that certain special person to see. CONTAIN YOUR **** YOUNG FEMALES FOR THE LOVE OF ******* GOD. You aren't attracting very respectable fellows by being so flaunty. People that are into you only for your tits/various other dank body parts you may or may not have, will most definitely end up hurting the beautiful blood pumping anomaly that lies behind said **** I mean it's your body, do what you want to do with it, but there are more then enough **** bouncing around the world right now to clog our minds with sexuality and distract us from accomplishing things as it is. WE DON'T NEED YOUR **** IN OUR FACE. not to mention, some day you're going to find a man or a woman that's going to love you for the super radical person that you are, and to them, your **** will just be like, the most awesome bonus, and by covering up just a bit more for all the numb skulled hard dicked mother ******* this world seems to have an endless supply of, you'll make that special person feel so so so so so so sooooo much more special when THEY get to see them. You know what i'm saying? We're in a society where your **** can take you further then your personality can and it's ******* ********
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
****
Picture of girls face: 10 likes Picture of girls face featuring slightly/damn near totally visible ***** bumps: 5000 likes. What the **** people, its the SAME GIRL. Her **** are there in BOTH PICTURES yo. But due to the difference in likes, there's no doubt as to what the true focal point of the photographs are. Honestly, I'd much rather see a picture of a ladies face instead of one featuring the awesome breasticles. Because, while those **** do, without a doubt, totally rock, they should also be respected and like, viewed as something special for only that certain special person to see. CONTAIN YOUR **** YOUNG FEMALES FOR THE LOVE OF ******* GOD. You aren't attracting very respectable fellows by being so flaunty. People that are into you only for your tits/various other dank body parts you may or may not have, will most definitely end up hurting the beautiful blood pumping anomaly that lies behind said **** I mean it's your body, do what you want to do with it, but there are more then enough **** bouncing around the world right now to clog our minds with sexuality and distract us from accomplishing things as it is. WE DON'T NEED YOUR **** IN OUR FACE. not to mention, some day you're going to find a man or a woman that's going to love you for the super radical person that you are, and to them, your **** will just be like, the most awesome bonus, and by covering up just a bit more for all the numb skulled hard dicked mother ******* this world seems to have an endless supply of, you'll make that special person feel so so so so so so sooooo much more special when THEY get to see them. You know what i'm saying? We're in a society where your **** can take you further then your personality can and it's ******* ********
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15
Little surfer girl Framed by the sun and waves and sand Sun-kissed skin Slender muscles On display for her captive audience Pulse in sync With the steady music Of the shore's breathing Attracting the spray and roar Of almighty Poseidon Lithe body Gliding on the water Like how she has Implacably skipped and splashed Over the breaking hearts Of so many who have pined after her I need but a glance To invite me To paddle out and see If I can conquer her waves.
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Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
Surf's Up
Her red shoe heels made clicking sounds aloud, around the hall attracting attention; his shoes, alluring, plush, black magic silence power worn on feet cried for recognition. loudness gravitated towards silence black silence  angled wild red he measured her foot to hip, she focused on his  intense face the silence with in the precinct approved their illegitimate cravings. Avarice for attention came together held hands, kicked up their heels, to **** competition in foot fetish.
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Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 2:58 PM UTC
FOOT FETISH
Seaweed, steamy piled high on baked sand. Fried flesh with vacant smiles attracting flies. Seagulls scream as dog chases ball.
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Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 10:50 AM UTC
Seaside
I see pictures in my head. Me with a magnet embedded in my stomach. Repelling or attracting certain types of people. A man walking the New York streets Concerned over his ****** addicted brother. I see viking ships sailing to protect their homeland From dragons and crop plight.
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Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 9:50 AM UTC
Images
INSECURE GENERATION The generation of today is living an insecure life. Life full of comparison Possession of things without thinking of what may happen A generation trying to prove others that they are the best A generation where young and energetic men are trying to prove themselves by destroying others. A generation where big and high class daddies destroy the young with material things A confused generation showing their happiness and wealth through photography A confused generation  hard to love people from a broken family          Everything is invalid! We suffer insecurities we didn't create Many are becoming insecure Completely unstable Trying to compare themselves with our today's models and celebrities of our century Probably hiding behind makeup Cause probably without the makeup! They,themselves are a hot mess! They pay a ransom to look great! If beauty is in the eyes of the beholder! Then,why suffer so much trying to look spectacular? Why spend to your last coin attracting a whole lot of people? They say beauty comes from within Our generation need to stand courageously And fight against the enemy of self insecurity!
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Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
INSECURE GENERATION
~ I am standing in such a space that like an event horizon where there everything is moving towards the dark and usually the opposite is the light The two ways are very distinct the light and the dark but I am wondering for light And I see, any existence of objects that stand on the space, and even time moving towards the dark The attraction of dark is too high its gravity beyond, attracting the young and the old it bends all the waves and moving towards the black hole passing as clouds through the event horizon where there I have stood there is a boundary between the heaven and hell On the boundary, the hell I see very near and the heaven, I saw before cause still I have some feelings and all my feelings are accumulating in the bean but the feelings have a little gravity either good or evil neither soft nor compact all drops from the heaven's wall It has grown more with time compact more and more either in core of heart or in pore of spaces neither in sticky sand nor in the serene soul all are moving toward the dark And finally, I see a big crunch in the dark but still some particles of light are floating over the dark and some are still struggling on the horizon others are waiting on the event horizon to move toward the dark hell and I am standing on the wall of the event horizon neither my mind wants to move in the hell nor I can moving back to the heaven ~ @Musfiq us shaleheen
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 4:54 AM UTC
Life at the Event Horizon
"...Ut si globi duo ad datam ab invicem distantiam filo intercedente connexi, revolverentur ur circa commune gravitatis centrum..." D. Isaaci Newtoni. From the level of the sea with its worlds of similarity and wonders of nature attracting beautiful birds, these ships fled to find the swirl reaching through to the floor. The ocean bed was dampened with the tears seen by the floating machine. { [ ( r - 3 ) d d u d t t ( f ) x ] / [ ( x , P ) ] } = tau pi g ( y ; hyp N , par Z ) d w d x . Observation created a self reflection, whereby the cosmic engineers projected the video like winds from outer forests. Engines became magical reverberation arising, if a correct answer could be presented to exist, as quality persistence like pieces of candy. Glittering, colored fragments of glass were scattered along the shore, they all liked as much as they admired the inventor.
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
The Ghost Of The Globe
Happiness is an empty street And a fast car. Happiness is a clean, cold pool You plunge into on a hot day. Happiness is someone in your bed Who’s gone in the morning If you don’t want company Or who stays if you do. It’s someone who is happy to read the paper Or take a hike with you. It’s not worrying what others think About you and your beliefs And the wisdom to know who counts. Happiness is strength, Enough to fight the world Or luxuriate in things gone well. Happiness is attracting and repelling Without having to try. Happiness is a an aching fist And an attacker’s black eye. Happiness can be a warm gun, Depending who gets hit.* Happiness is not waiting for love, Then falling in love in seconds. It is knowing that you are fine With or without a vow, Yet being able to say “yes”, When lightning strikes And “no” when it’s just a cloud. Yet happiness is not being sure And bathing in uncertainty, Of the pleasure in mystery. Happiness is loving, faults and all, An intensity so focused That you’d gladly die for the one Who was sent by some mixture Of sunlight and shade, On an ordinary afternoon, Happiness is his body in yours, His sweat on your skin in summer, And body heat on cold nights. Happiness is loving a little boy Who looks like both of you And knowing that love can transfigure Time, exceed itself and encompass More than one. Happiness is contentment In realizing how much you’ve had And say you’ll feel rewarded When your random life is done. Happiness is the legend they tell About you when you are gone; The feeling is theirs and maybe yours. Happiness is knowing that, if you go too far, That there is no heaven or hell, Or if there is, Then anyone can play guitar. September 9, 2020
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Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 1:08 PM UTC
Happiness is...
Happiness is an empty street And a fast car. Happiness is a clean, cold pool You plunge into on a hot day. Happiness is someone in your bed Who’s gone in the morning If you don’t want company Or who stays if you do. It’s someone who is happy to read the paper Or take a hike with you. It’s not worrying what others think About you and your beliefs And the wisdom to know who counts. Happiness is strength, Enough to fight the world Or luxuriate in things gone well. Happiness is attracting and repelling Without having to try. Happiness is a an aching fist And an attacker’s black eye. Happiness can be a warm gun, Depending who gets hit.* Happiness is not waiting for love, Then falling in love in seconds. It is knowing that you are fine With or without a vow, Yet being able to say “yes”, When lightning strikes And “no” when it’s just a cloud. Yet happiness is not being sure And bathing in uncertainty, Of the pleasure in mystery. Happiness is loving, faults and all, An intensity so focused That you’d gladly die for the one Who was sent by some mixture Of sunlight and shade, On an ordinary afternoon, Happiness is his body in yours, His sweat on your skin in summer, And body heat on cold nights. Happiness is loving a little boy Who looks like both of you And knowing that love can transfigure Time, exceed itself and encompass More than one. Happiness is contentment In realizing how much you’ve had And say you’ll feel rewarded When your random life is done. Happiness is the legend they tell About you when you are gone; The feeling is theirs and maybe yours. Happiness is knowing that, if you go too far, That there is no heaven or hell, Or if there is, Then anyone can play guitar. September 9, 2020
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58
Her crowning glory Perfect smooth curls, Dance and sway in the sweet breeze, Attracting attention, Seducing unapologetic ally
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Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
Crowning Glory
Sweet Tea wrote 3 months after I turned 15, 2018 Before you, I was a girl devastated by things I couldn’t change Trapped in an endless bitter reality from which there was no escape Sinking into a dark, spiraling well, from which I reached my hands and found a pool of light You were my light, a haloed sunshine angel, who graced me with his presence for what seemed so long and ended so abruptly The sound of your voice seemed to be honey, so sweet, attracting the bees, attracting me My sunshine sweetheart, angel lover You’ve done your time so now you can leave Why would you want to stay with me? I’m only a cement brick that will bring you down A loose thread that will tear you down, a yammering parakeet who will wear you down One time you told me that I thought too highly of you How couldn’t I? With someone who made me feel so confident with my body, somebody who praised me, someone who thought I was worth their time at least for the time being In a way it’s better that you left, you’ll never be forced to see what I had to see looking in the mirror hating every inch of myself, hating the way I acted, and the way I interacted with everyone and hating the way no one seemed to like me But you liked me, but it’s better this way because I’m a letdown It’s Like when you thought you had bought sweet tea But it’s actually unsweetened The new version Sweet Tea wrote 1 month before my 18 birthday, 2021 Before you, I was a girl alone Being molested every day by the people who said they would take care of me I was a fourteen-year-old girl who was taught at a young age to get yourself a man to save you So I tried everything to keep you because talking to you distracted me from the fact my fourty-year-old stepdad was touching me But what I definitely didn’t need was a twenty-year-old man messaging me Telling me all the things he wanted to do to me When the law would finally unclaim me and allow me to give someone a part of me he doesn’t deserve You made me feel so much more alone Somebody who told me he’d touch me But instead of giving me what I’ll need he’ll leave “Lick me up like an ice cream cone” huh Luke? yes I thought highly of you Because you made it seem like you’d never hurt me You were the biggest disappointment You always will be
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Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 2:36 PM UTC
Sweet Tea then and now trigger warning
Sweet Tea wrote 3 months after I turned 15, 2018 Before you, I was a girl devastated by things I couldn’t change Trapped in an endless bitter reality from which there was no escape Sinking into a dark, spiraling well, from which I reached my hands and found a pool of light You were my light, a haloed sunshine angel, who graced me with his presence for what seemed so long and ended so abruptly The sound of your voice seemed to be honey, so sweet, attracting the bees, attracting me My sunshine sweetheart, angel lover You’ve done your time so now you can leave Why would you want to stay with me? I’m only a cement brick that will bring you down A loose thread that will tear you down, a yammering parakeet who will wear you down One time you told me that I thought too highly of you How couldn’t I? With someone who made me feel so confident with my body, somebody who praised me, someone who thought I was worth their time at least for the time being In a way it’s better that you left, you’ll never be forced to see what I had to see looking in the mirror hating every inch of myself, hating the way I acted, and the way I interacted with everyone and hating the way no one seemed to like me But you liked me, but it’s better this way because I’m a letdown It’s Like when you thought you had bought sweet tea But it’s actually unsweetened The new version Sweet Tea wrote 1 month before my 18 birthday, 2021 Before you, I was a girl alone Being molested every day by the people who said they would take care of me I was a fourteen-year-old girl who was taught at a young age to get yourself a man to save you So I tried everything to keep you because talking to you distracted me from the fact my fourty-year-old stepdad was touching me But what I definitely didn’t need was a twenty-year-old man messaging me Telling me all the things he wanted to do to me When the law would finally unclaim me and allow me to give someone a part of me he doesn’t deserve You made me feel so much more alone Somebody who told me he’d touch me But instead of giving me what I’ll need he’ll leave “Lick me up like an ice cream cone” huh Luke? yes I thought highly of you Because you made it seem like you’d never hurt me You were the biggest disappointment You always will be
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32
Faces only remind you of How lonely you are, You say you've swam too far Into the sea of your regrets That I am your lifeboat But didn't you hear I sank long, long ago? You've been searching For a new home, One that doesn't creak Or shudder at night. But homes are not people And your voice cracks As you point out There's a welcome mat By the front door But I never answer When you knock. It's been a while since I started attracting Strangers with flashlights To search me like A haunted place. I finally realized they Were the ones that Needed scaring away. It's so odd to think, You once told me You saw beauty In clifftops, And I thought you Were talking about The view.
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Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
Homes Are Not People
I place my wildest dreams in a system where I can contain To avoid judgement in a world full people to name As I learn to drop my pride and forget my fears I'm still afraid of a woman, I can't name that I'd love to get near Time ticks so why waste minutes on a bad trip Of allowing your mind to go and travel through all the bullish Of evil that tries to deciet you as you drop down to the lords knees Keep attracting princesses when it's a queen that you truly need Would you die for peace? Bleed to survive? Take the answers off another's test or actually try? Why lie? We all creatures of a bad habit I tend to carry baggage Still kinda afraid of average Just felt I needed to express through this hallow pen To The Lord is the simplicity of my minor thoughts in which I'm tryna send Please don't resent Honesty, the truth Pain doesn't come unless you allow the pain inside you Whatcha tryna do? Will fight for what you believe ? Will she love me unconditionally? You promised me you wouldn't leave. My imagination has grown but first it had to die The terror of the nightmares The sleeplessness of a lie Release what you have inside. I promise it'll set you free Take a look at your blueprints Before you go and try to fix me.
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Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
"Flowistic Justice"
my brain is a magnet attracting itself to you and my heart is a wrench fixing the toilet these incantations to raise you up these words to make you holy have me on my knees with the piss-mucked tiles but I wouldn’t change any of it no I’d do anything for you my soul will split at the rack before I ever mutter a word love how dare I! I thought I was better I thought I could look without touching speak without breathing feel without loving disaster fortuitous storm of color spray me red splay me naked for the world to see my fingers are inspired to write a friend in history in my heart forever
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Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
Untitled
Like liquid sapphires Attracting my loving gaze Your eyes steal my heart.
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Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC
Her Blue Eyes (Haiku)
It brightens my days to feel at peace Safety occupying my heart and my mind Knowing that my soul is kind Remember: past has passed and here I am 18 years old, still holding a pen mistakes are made but I've learned from them A vicious cycle, attracting worry with worries Pushing myself to be consumed with joy falling asleep, smiling softly I know who I am
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Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 9:42 AM UTC
When I was 18 I felt a little unsure
We were cleaning each other tears with our hands and kisses,  and today we clean the rests of jam and sauces  from our familiar faces in the comfort of our last moments. The minutes to the departure which seemed to break us,  never managed to take our sense nor patience, as when things  are so important that you hardly believe in their logic of attracting with a power that no one has given a chance. I doubt I deserved this amount of joy. But they doubted in the ability to take the suffer of what is unknown. So perhaps we are all mistaken creating uncertainties and leaving too early. And if there is more happiness on the other side of the gate... Then I only wish we could cross it together.
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Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
Dublin Airport