"beanie" poems - Hello Poetry

He wears a Beanie Aviator Sunglasses Stumble over wheels Look Eye contact I smile You blow a kiss I want to wink I don't I smile I like you I'll never see you again Bicycle boy.

0

Aug 11, 2015

Aug 11, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC

margaretmaloney

bicycle boy

He wears a Beanie Aviator Sunglasses Stumble over wheels Look Eye contact I smile You blow a kiss I want to wink I don't I smile I like you I'll never see you again Bicycle boy.

13

it started with a jaw twitch vibrating ear to lip side to side up and down like I was a horse shaking off a fly I saw her legs spread scissors in hand as her head popped and popped and popped like a jack-in-the-box film screening 3 inches in front of my eyes until I hid in a barrel and kept on driving north to wherever lights off and hooting like a madman to visions of ariana grande standing out in the snow with a purple beanie and frozen mittens waiting for me to pull up the driveway tumble out the car door and say you were right so she can pour hot chocolate on my face and walk back inside to stoke the dying fire

0

Nov 1, 2015

Nov 1, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC

KingPanda

midday vision of snow

it started with a jaw twitch vibrating ear to lip side to side up and down like I was a horse shaking off a fly I saw her legs spread scissors in hand as her head popped and popped and popped like a jack-in-the-box film screening 3 inches in front of my eyes until I hid in a barrel and kept on driving north to wherever lights off and hooting like a madman to visions of ariana grande standing out in the snow with a purple beanie and frozen mittens waiting for me to pull up the driveway tumble out the car door and say you were right so she can pour hot chocolate on my face and walk back inside to stoke the dying fire

31

Wala akong pera pang-cab Kaya mas prefer ko mag-jeepney Ikaw ang hihilingin Kung sakaling makatagpo ng genie Lagi kang nasa ulo ko Parang paborito ko'ng suoting beanie Mahal kita Sheki Kahit na size mo ay mini

0

Sep 11, 2019

Sep 11, 2019 at 9:53 PM UTC

CHLSEAA

Sheki

Wala akong pera pang-cab Kaya mas prefer ko mag-jeepney Ikaw ang hihilingin Kung sakaling makatagpo ng genie Lagi kang nasa ulo ko Parang paborito ko'ng suoting beanie Mahal kita Sheki Kahit na size mo ay mini

8

Ive known you for approximately 6209.1225 days Which is equivalent to 17 years When people think of love, they never consider the bond between a sister and her twin. Its a God given best friend a pal for life, someone who will always have your back, the yin to my yang, my better half, While you may be bullheaded and stubborn, I can be quite openminded and forgiving and between the two we balance out, we make an equilibrium. It's me and you against the world from Beanie babies to paychecks, from ice cream trucks to a Corsica, It was me and you all along. Even if our Mother made a million mistakes I have to thank her for giving birth to the other half of my heart. I know Ill never be alone because you're always right there by my side.

0

Mar 15, 2013

Mar 15, 2013 at 11:37 AM UTC

lydiaduhhhh

My better half

Ive known you for approximately 6209.1225 days Which is equivalent to 17 years When people think of love, they never consider the bond between a sister and her twin. Its a God given best friend a pal for life, someone who will always have your back, the yin to my yang, my better half, While you may be bullheaded and stubborn, I can be quite openminded and forgiving and between the two we balance out, we make an equilibrium. It's me and you against the world from Beanie babies to paychecks, from ice cream trucks to a Corsica, It was me and you all along. Even if our Mother made a million mistakes I have to thank her for giving birth to the other half of my heart. I know Ill never be alone because you're always right there by my side.

25

So I've been thinking lately What if he's on a journey out to find himself reading Hemingway and Emerson (his namesake) and roughing it at Walden Pond smoking foreign cigars and staring deep into coffee to decipher the meaning of the swirls of smoke that rise from it in the morning? What if he's asking ChaCha! the meaning of life or trying out a new brand of shampoo or attempting to set a high score on Tetris or out burning down bridges just to see them ablaze or doing volunteer work, reading to disabled children at the local library? What if he's decided that this is all too much, that he'd prefer to live in anonymity trading his celebrity for secretarial work or carrot-harvesting or breeding exotic fish or renting out those inflatable jumping-castles? What if he's tired of all those books in Technicolor all the paparazzi out to get him and commercialize his favorite beanie just because he's on vacation because he pulled some strings at the office thus catapulting him into some movie set halfway across the world? What if he's sick and tired of them hunting down his girlfriend his dog that random wizard mentor guy that's a deadringer for Dumbledore? What if he would rather sit at home and watch the Game Show Network and change his name to something boring like John instead of living up to a thinker's expectations? Or maybe just the opposite, he's just watching Family Feud to pass the time because he WANTS to be a thinker but doesn't know how? Or maybe Family Feud just makes him lonely because he doesn't have a real family, just that evil guy with funny glasses and ****** hair and an awful Hamburglar taste in clothes? What if he's decided he's on the wrong path and needs to turn his life around? What if Waldo doesn't want to be found?

0

Dec 22, 2009

Dec 22, 2009 at 6:05 PM UTC

bailey-b

Namesake.

So I've been thinking lately What if he's on a journey out to find himself reading Hemingway and Emerson (his namesake) and roughing it at Walden Pond smoking foreign cigars and staring deep into coffee to decipher the meaning of the swirls of smoke that rise from it in the morning? What if he's asking ChaCha! the meaning of life or trying out a new brand of shampoo or attempting to set a high score on Tetris or out burning down bridges just to see them ablaze or doing volunteer work, reading to disabled children at the local library? What if he's decided that this is all too much, that he'd prefer to live in anonymity trading his celebrity for secretarial work or carrot-harvesting or breeding exotic fish or renting out those inflatable jumping-castles? What if he's tired of all those books in Technicolor all the paparazzi out to get him and commercialize his favorite beanie just because he's on vacation because he pulled some strings at the office thus catapulting him into some movie set halfway across the world? What if he's sick and tired of them hunting down his girlfriend his dog that random wizard mentor guy that's a deadringer for Dumbledore? What if he would rather sit at home and watch the Game Show Network and change his name to something boring like John instead of living up to a thinker's expectations? Or maybe just the opposite, he's just watching Family Feud to pass the time because he WANTS to be a thinker but doesn't know how? Or maybe Family Feud just makes him lonely because he doesn't have a real family, just that evil guy with funny glasses and ****** hair and an awful Hamburglar taste in clothes? What if he's decided he's on the wrong path and needs to turn his life around? What if Waldo doesn't want to be found?

39

December 17th 1998 the doctors say "congratulations, it's a girl" I do not know what I am 5 years old I am at preschool I ask "why don't they wear dresses?" pointing to the boys I get an answer that boys don't wear dresses I don't want to wear dresses, can I be a boy? Elementary school the boys play football and tag at recess, the girls talk about the cute boys, their hair and their outfits. I want to play football with the boys but I sit alone on the swings watching the boys. I wish I were a boy Middle school the girls are wearing bras and the boys are getting deeper voices. My voice doesn't get deeper but my chest grows, I try to push it back but it doesn't work. My sister want to put makeup on me and have me dress in girly clothes. But I feel like a boy stuck as a girl Highschool I learn the word transgender. I cry because I'm not alone. I find out about binders and order one. It comes it the mail, I put it on and put on my most masculine clothes. I already have short hair but I put on a beanie. I look like a boy. I feel like a boy. I am a boy The name my mother gave me is not mine. Phoenix sounds right for me. A new beginning, a new life. I will make a boy out of this body. I'm 15 and scared to tell my family. Over the years in my head I know I am a boy but my body tells me differently. I tell my family that I am a boy. I'm scared and they don't say anything about it. Maybe they think if they don't say anything it will go away. But I am a boy I tell my teachers and they call me he instead of she. I feel like me. Other students call me a girl but can't they see I am a boy I go to a store and get called sir, they see me as a boy, I look in the mirror and finally see me. A boy

0

May 1, 2015

May 1, 2015 at 5:35 PM UTC

MaxTate

I am a boy

December 17th 1998 the doctors say "congratulations, it's a girl" I do not know what I am 5 years old I am at preschool I ask "why don't they wear dresses?" pointing to the boys I get an answer that boys don't wear dresses I don't want to wear dresses, can I be a boy? Elementary school the boys play football and tag at recess, the girls talk about the cute boys, their hair and their outfits. I want to play football with the boys but I sit alone on the swings watching the boys. I wish I were a boy Middle school the girls are wearing bras and the boys are getting deeper voices. My voice doesn't get deeper but my chest grows, I try to push it back but it doesn't work. My sister want to put makeup on me and have me dress in girly clothes. But I feel like a boy stuck as a girl Highschool I learn the word transgender. I cry because I'm not alone. I find out about binders and order one. It comes it the mail, I put it on and put on my most masculine clothes. I already have short hair but I put on a beanie. I look like a boy. I feel like a boy. I am a boy The name my mother gave me is not mine. Phoenix sounds right for me. A new beginning, a new life. I will make a boy out of this body. I'm 15 and scared to tell my family. Over the years in my head I know I am a boy but my body tells me differently. I tell my family that I am a boy. I'm scared and they don't say anything about it. Maybe they think if they don't say anything it will go away. But I am a boy I tell my teachers and they call me he instead of she. I feel like me. Other students call me a girl but can't they see I am a boy I go to a store and get called sir, they see me as a boy, I look in the mirror and finally see me. A boy

17

Abbie hailed a yellow top cabbie Brenda had a sister in-law named Glenda Cate ran late on her first date Delly ate seven bowls of lemon jelly Edwina drove to the town of Catalina Fran burnt her finger on the very hot frying pan Gwen had a strong yen to go and see her aunty Jen Hope bought her husband a towing rope Isobel fell under the magician's spell Joann took her mother on a holiday in a caravan Kylie went to the dentist with her brother Wylie Lesley liked listening to Elvis Presley Marcia enjoyed eating a freshly baked focaccia Nell saw a turtle coming out of his shell Olga lived at the top end of the river Volga Primrose had a Pinocchio nose Queenie knitted a multicolored beanie Ruth could never tell the whole truth Stacey loved playing dress ups with her friend Tracey Tilly behavior was always rather silly Una bought a house in the suburb of Yagonna Verity wanted to be a well known celebrity Winifred never stopped taking about Alfred Xena was presented with a court subpoena Yale told her teacher a tall tale Zealand ventured out into the bushland

0

Aug 25, 2013

Aug 25, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC

ElizabethSquires

ABC Poem (Girls Names)

Abbie hailed a yellow top cabbie Brenda had a sister in-law named Glenda Cate ran late on her first date Delly ate seven bowls of lemon jelly Edwina drove to the town of Catalina Fran burnt her finger on the very hot frying pan Gwen had a strong yen to go and see her aunty Jen Hope bought her husband a towing rope Isobel fell under the magician's spell Joann took her mother on a holiday in a caravan Kylie went to the dentist with her brother Wylie Lesley liked listening to Elvis Presley Marcia enjoyed eating a freshly baked focaccia Nell saw a turtle coming out of his shell Olga lived at the top end of the river Volga Primrose had a Pinocchio nose Queenie knitted a multicolored beanie Ruth could never tell the whole truth Stacey loved playing dress ups with her friend Tracey Tilly behavior was always rather silly Una bought a house in the suburb of Yagonna Verity wanted to be a well known celebrity Winifred never stopped taking about Alfred Xena was presented with a court subpoena Yale told her teacher a tall tale Zealand ventured out into the bushland

26

a twenty-six year old woman sits alone outside a coffee shop, waiting she plays Snake on an old Nokia that was discontinued long ago her red dread locks are tucked neatly under a worn beanie that she stole from the boy that she gave her virginity away to in a skate park when she was nineteen a twenty-six year old woman sits alone at her desk, writing she has a one night stand whose name she doesn't remember sleeping in her bed her mascara is running and her lips are dyed black from henna that she stole from the girl who offered her shelter when she ran away to live in her car and dingy motel rooms after college a twenty-six year old woman sits outside a Stop and Shop, drinking Shasta she recently tried to publish her book of poems , but it was rejected so: her shorts barely covered her backside and she wore the bralette that she stole from her brother's girlfriend while she was visiting in the false hopes that he would register how badly she needed him (or anyone) a twenty-six year old woman sits in a little blue rowboat, drilling holes into the bottom she skims Red Kayak before she leaves home and ties rocks around her ankles her thoughts are set on mentally regressing the pain of her teenage years that she wishes she could steal back to at least put some emotion back into her heart it'd been better than feeling nothing at all

0

Jul 8, 2013

Jul 8, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC

mikitara

Ten Years Ago, Today

a twenty-six year old woman sits alone outside a coffee shop, waiting she plays Snake on an old Nokia that was discontinued long ago her red dread locks are tucked neatly under a worn beanie that she stole from the boy that she gave her virginity away to in a skate park when she was nineteen a twenty-six year old woman sits alone at her desk, writing she has a one night stand whose name she doesn't remember sleeping in her bed her mascara is running and her lips are dyed black from henna that she stole from the girl who offered her shelter when she ran away to live in her car and dingy motel rooms after college a twenty-six year old woman sits outside a Stop and Shop, drinking Shasta she recently tried to publish her book of poems , but it was rejected so: her shorts barely covered her backside and she wore the bralette that she stole from her brother's girlfriend while she was visiting in the false hopes that he would register how badly she needed him (or anyone) a twenty-six year old woman sits in a little blue rowboat, drilling holes into the bottom she skims Red Kayak before she leaves home and ties rocks around her ankles her thoughts are set on mentally regressing the pain of her teenage years that she wishes she could steal back to at least put some emotion back into her heart it'd been better than feeling nothing at all

21

It was 29° (f) degrees this morning with a waning gibbous (¾) moon. Still, as we started our run, it was dark enough that the world was rendered in black and white. Lisa was a sepia print of herself while Charles was a large, quiet shadow, a dark visual noise pattern. We usually jog from our dorm, down to and along New Haven Harbor and back. Lisa and I love the ocean. The wind was in our faces this morning and there were no sparkling moon refractions in our direction, which made the water musou and colorless. I’ve gotten my outfit down to a science, leggings under shorts, four long sleeve, dry-wicking spandex tops (layering is important), a power-wool-earflap-beanie, thermal neck gaiter and quantum, icebreaker gloves (with touch-screen compatibility) - you gotta dress warmly but be able to shed layers as needed. I listen to audiobooks while we run. Right now I’m on book 5 of the ‘The Expanse’ series. I don’t have time to read anything fun these days, so I listen to science-fiction/fantasy while I workout. I love the new AirPod Pro feature that automatically turns the sound down if anyone talks. I wear a fitbit charge around my right ankle and my Apple watch as well - they both track my run - the fitbit is more accurate but my watch sends my workout stats to my siblings - we’re uhh, sort of competitive. At first, as we came up on the harbor, it was impossible to see the intersection of the two dark oceans - the great terrestrial and the greater galactic - but as we turned for home, there was an atmospheric scatter of blue at the edge of the horizon, heralding the sunrise on our retreating backs. musou = one of the darkest shades of black

0

Nov 2, 2023

Nov 2, 2023 at 7:41 PM UTC

anaisvionet

along the harbor

It was 29° (f) degrees this morning with a waning gibbous (¾) moon. Still, as we started our run, it was dark enough that the world was rendered in black and white. Lisa was a sepia print of herself while Charles was a large, quiet shadow, a dark visual noise pattern. We usually jog from our dorm, down to and along New Haven Harbor and back. Lisa and I love the ocean. The wind was in our faces this morning and there were no sparkling moon refractions in our direction, which made the water musou and colorless. I’ve gotten my outfit down to a science, leggings under shorts, four long sleeve, dry-wicking spandex tops (layering is important), a power-wool-earflap-beanie, thermal neck gaiter and quantum, icebreaker gloves (with touch-screen compatibility) - you gotta dress warmly but be able to shed layers as needed. I listen to audiobooks while we run. Right now I’m on book 5 of the ‘The Expanse’ series. I don’t have time to read anything fun these days, so I listen to science-fiction/fantasy while I workout. I love the new AirPod Pro feature that automatically turns the sound down if anyone talks. I wear a fitbit charge around my right ankle and my Apple watch as well - they both track my run - the fitbit is more accurate but my watch sends my workout stats to my siblings - we’re uhh, sort of competitive. At first, as we came up on the harbor, it was impossible to see the intersection of the two dark oceans - the great terrestrial and the greater galactic - but as we turned for home, there was an atmospheric scatter of blue at the edge of the horizon, heralding the sunrise on our retreating backs. musou = one of the darkest shades of black

7

i miss you more than you think. (deleted) i haven't smiled in a while, but when i think about you i do. (deleted) you left your sweater here. i wear it to bed sometimes. do you want it back? [it still smells like you.] (deleted) i still remember how your favorite color was the sky right before sunset. (deleted) you said you loved me, what happened? (deleted) i'm still so sorry. i didn't mean to push you away. (deleted) please just hear me out. let me explain. (deleted) i left my beanie at your house. i know it was your favorite. can i come get it? (deleted) i wish you knew how i still felt about you. (deleted) i hope you haven't moved on, because i sure haven't. (deleted) i listened to real friends today, i remember when you made me listen to them. all i could think of was you. (deleted) do i still mean anything to you? (deleted) god i wish you knew how often i think about your eyes. i still think they resemble forest trees. (deleted) it's been two months. i'm still torn up. (deleted) i have spent so many night cuddling up to my pillow wishing it was you. (deleted) i can't think straight because i keep thinking about what you're doing right now. (deleted) do you still think about me? (deleted) i didn't know my heart could shatter over and over until i met you. (deleted) we could've been in love. i'm so sorry. (deleted) is this still affecting you as much as it is me? (deleted)

0

Dec 15, 2013

Dec 15, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC

moonlit

20 Texts I Almost Sent You

i miss you more than you think. (deleted) i haven't smiled in a while, but when i think about you i do. (deleted) you left your sweater here. i wear it to bed sometimes. do you want it back? [it still smells like you.] (deleted) i still remember how your favorite color was the sky right before sunset. (deleted) you said you loved me, what happened? (deleted) i'm still so sorry. i didn't mean to push you away. (deleted) please just hear me out. let me explain. (deleted) i left my beanie at your house. i know it was your favorite. can i come get it? (deleted) i wish you knew how i still felt about you. (deleted) i hope you haven't moved on, because i sure haven't. (deleted) i listened to real friends today, i remember when you made me listen to them. all i could think of was you. (deleted) do i still mean anything to you? (deleted) god i wish you knew how often i think about your eyes. i still think they resemble forest trees. (deleted) it's been two months. i'm still torn up. (deleted) i have spent so many night cuddling up to my pillow wishing it was you. (deleted) i can't think straight because i keep thinking about what you're doing right now. (deleted) do you still think about me? (deleted) i didn't know my heart could shatter over and over until i met you. (deleted) we could've been in love. i'm so sorry. (deleted) is this still affecting you as much as it is me? (deleted)

40

We're all walking cliche's, So what's the big deal? I can wear a beanie and a gay pride tee shirt and moccasins, And listen to Neutral Milk Hotel, And talk about feminism and politics. Do not kiss me with your mustang convertible and your ****** piercings. I am a taken woman. But I will take your free drugs. Thank you very much. Stop mourning me, My arrogance should never have been a turn on. Pretzel crisps, tattoos, and student loans. It's hard walking down the boulevard of broken dreams, And bumping into all the other lonely souls.

0

Aug 2, 2013

Aug 2, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC

itsfinemom

As of August

We're all walking cliche's, So what's the big deal? I can wear a beanie and a gay pride tee shirt and moccasins, And listen to Neutral Milk Hotel, And talk about feminism and politics. Do not kiss me with your mustang convertible and your ****** piercings. I am a taken woman. But I will take your free drugs. Thank you very much. Stop mourning me, My arrogance should never have been a turn on. Pretzel crisps, tattoos, and student loans. It's hard walking down the boulevard of broken dreams, And bumping into all the other lonely souls.

14

and i’m probably wrong, but- good. everyone else gets to be wrong, and be proud of it, and be supported in their fallacies shallow girls with their fickle girlfreinds so eager to agree that “guys **** hey, newsflash, if you want to earn the right to be so fragile, stop treating other people like they’re made of stone, and these girlfriends who are there for you now, was it only last week that they were all ******* and didn’t you hate them for all the things they said about you to each other behind your back (all the same things you say about them behind theirs) all the girls you would call fat and ugly then turn to me hours later for consolation about insecurities or insult to your own appearance, all the friends you forced me to get to know, then forced me to hate, the warnings you ignored, only to overreact at the end as if you didn’t know, and still somehow blame it or take it out on me. this is for the beanie baby turtle you made me throw out of the window because it was a christmas present to me from your now ex-best friend. this is for the girl i’ve known since i was a toddler that came to my dad’s fiftieth birthday party with my aunt who used to babysit us both. she came along because she thought it would be fun to see all the people that she hadn’t for the greater part of ten years. she came to see me. she was very beautiful. i forced myself to ignore her because i knew how you would have reacted. i will never forgive myself for that. i’ll probably never see her again. this is for the class i failed staying up the night before because “i HAD to call you” the night before the big test because you were so upset over something that was literally nothing at all and i told you it was stupid to act like it was a real problem but i still talked to you well into the early morning as i stumbled around the dark streets in the cold because i needed privacy to talk to you and my roommate was in the room. and so was my calculus book i was trying to read through. but no- you’re not selfish, that’s me. the truth is you need me more than i need you and the truth is when i first met you, you put on an innocent girl act but you were just a **** you and all your friends, the easy, broken girls who didnt get enough love, from semi-broken homes, who didn’t know what normal or okay were, and i gave you everything i could. and you took it all and then you took it for granted and then you took me so far in that i never could get back out i’m tired of being your soft spoken boy don’t tell me i’m inconsiderate. don’t tell me i’m not understanding. don’t tell me you love me when we make up. you wouldn't know the first thing about it.

0

Jun 19, 2012

Jun 19, 2012 at 1:32 PM UTC

levi

fight

and i’m probably wrong, but- good. everyone else gets to be wrong, and be proud of it, and be supported in their fallacies shallow girls with their fickle girlfreinds so eager to agree that “guys **** hey, newsflash, if you want to earn the right to be so fragile, stop treating other people like they’re made of stone, and these girlfriends who are there for you now, was it only last week that they were all ******* and didn’t you hate them for all the things they said about you to each other behind your back (all the same things you say about them behind theirs) all the girls you would call fat and ugly then turn to me hours later for consolation about insecurities or insult to your own appearance, all the friends you forced me to get to know, then forced me to hate, the warnings you ignored, only to overreact at the end as if you didn’t know, and still somehow blame it or take it out on me. this is for the beanie baby turtle you made me throw out of the window because it was a christmas present to me from your now ex-best friend. this is for the girl i’ve known since i was a toddler that came to my dad’s fiftieth birthday party with my aunt who used to babysit us both. she came along because she thought it would be fun to see all the people that she hadn’t for the greater part of ten years. she came to see me. she was very beautiful. i forced myself to ignore her because i knew how you would have reacted. i will never forgive myself for that. i’ll probably never see her again. this is for the class i failed staying up the night before because “i HAD to call you” the night before the big test because you were so upset over something that was literally nothing at all and i told you it was stupid to act like it was a real problem but i still talked to you well into the early morning as i stumbled around the dark streets in the cold because i needed privacy to talk to you and my roommate was in the room. and so was my calculus book i was trying to read through. but no- you’re not selfish, that’s me. the truth is you need me more than i need you and the truth is when i first met you, you put on an innocent girl act but you were just a **** you and all your friends, the easy, broken girls who didnt get enough love, from semi-broken homes, who didn’t know what normal or okay were, and i gave you everything i could. and you took it all and then you took it for granted and then you took me so far in that i never could get back out i’m tired of being your soft spoken boy don’t tell me i’m inconsiderate. don’t tell me i’m not understanding. don’t tell me you love me when we make up. you wouldn't know the first thing about it.

51

i did not grow up with siblings. i grew up with half-sisters, half-brothers, a step mom, just like in cinderella. except i never met her. and i never will. (my dad would rather slash his own throat) i was by myself, with beanie babies and whispering sunlight. i had to cover my ears when the screaming pierced, blindfold my eyes when blood tainted the creases. i made friends through my bathroom tiles, the wavy puddles looked like old men, like crushed flowers. i talked to inanimate objects, squirrels lurking behind bushes. with the first bunny, i grabbed onto his fur. with the first dog, i howled and panted, hoping to become. i drew elaborate stories upon sidewalks, vanished into the lines of majestic quests. the real world was nothing but glass with tainted red. “didn’t you wish you had siblings?” i escaped. i’m here, with scrapes and broken bones, but i’m here.

0

May 26, 2013

May 26, 2013 at 2:19 PM UTC

amber-s

imaginary friends

i did not grow up with siblings. i grew up with half-sisters, half-brothers, a step mom, just like in cinderella. except i never met her. and i never will. (my dad would rather slash his own throat) i was by myself, with beanie babies and whispering sunlight. i had to cover my ears when the screaming pierced, blindfold my eyes when blood tainted the creases. i made friends through my bathroom tiles, the wavy puddles looked like old men, like crushed flowers. i talked to inanimate objects, squirrels lurking behind bushes. with the first bunny, i grabbed onto his fur. with the first dog, i howled and panted, hoping to become. i drew elaborate stories upon sidewalks, vanished into the lines of majestic quests. the real world was nothing but glass with tainted red. “didn’t you wish you had siblings?” i escaped. i’m here, with scrapes and broken bones, but i’m here.

20

By Arcassin Burnham {When i wake up will our story be told, Himalayan rivers couldn't see a better shine, I would give everything just smell the scent of pine, And who could stand the test of time, Now we're all old,} You might hate me now but you forgot the essence of peace, wait .. wait! you have a Complicated complex???? I swear the things you say are bat **** insane!!! so little monsta go away, Right Back into the closet where you came, I hope your happy with your seven seconds of fame, As i put on this beanie , look at the enemy and say...... {When i wake up will our story be told, Himalayan rivers couldn't see a better shine, I would give everything just smell the scent of pine, And who could stand the test of time, Now we're all old,}

0

Apr 27, 2015

Apr 27, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC

arcassin-burnham

"Beanies Pt.3 (Green)"

By Arcassin Burnham {When i wake up will our story be told, Himalayan rivers couldn't see a better shine, I would give everything just smell the scent of pine, And who could stand the test of time, Now we're all old,} You might hate me now but you forgot the essence of peace, wait .. wait! you have a Complicated complex???? I swear the things you say are bat **** insane!!! so little monsta go away, Right Back into the closet where you came, I hope your happy with your seven seconds of fame, As i put on this beanie , look at the enemy and say...... {When i wake up will our story be told, Himalayan rivers couldn't see a better shine, I would give everything just smell the scent of pine, And who could stand the test of time, Now we're all old,}

18

Somewhere there exists a girl. She is kind, and soft, and sweet, And a reader, a lover of books. She would read every one if she could People say she looks just like her mother. She doesn't know what to think. Some place in the world there is a boy. He is shy, and peaceful, and small, He is adventurous, dreaming of planets unknown. He would wander the galaxy forever, Trailing after him stardust and clouds. Nobody notices him. Connecting them is one person. They are creative, and caring, and bright. Protective of the people they love, Even if those people overlook them. They feel too small to make a difference. They want to find a purpose. Three people, so very much alike. Simalar in so many ways, yet still different, Each unique in their own right. All existing on the same Earth. Seperate, but never apart. They like being themselves and each other. The only downside to their lives, Is that that have to exist together, Stuck in the same body, unable to change. Each wishing to fit their own mold. But they can't leave each other. Sometimes the Girl in control. She is the happiest of them, She loves her body, which amazingly Fits her, like the perfect glove. She wished to make the others just as happy. The In Between doesn't hate their body. They like how soft they look some days Like when they can look in between. But they still feel wrong sometimes. They don't feel like they can complain. The Boy has it much worse than them. When he has control his body is wrong, The opposite of what he need to exist. He deals with his problem though. He binds his chest and wears button ups. But that doesnt make it right. Nobody knows that they share. Most people are content being one thing. With having a solid identity. But it wasn't their fault, it is how they are made. They didn't ask to be a river. But they still follow the tides. They wouldn't change who they are. They get along fine with each aspect of themself Compensating, trying to feel whole. They have tricks to help them feel right. But perfection doesn't exist. Dysphoria comes as a storm. Turing the river into a rushing waterfall, Full of doubt and self-loathing. Certain things help calm the storm, But sometimes it just keeps raining. They push through the floods Of anxiety and doubt and fear. Giving themself a bowtie for the Boy, A beanie for the In Between, A skirt for the Girl. They persist. And they live.

0

Aug 8, 2015

Aug 8, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC

AdlerEagle

Existance

Somewhere there exists a girl. She is kind, and soft, and sweet, And a reader, a lover of books. She would read every one if she could People say she looks just like her mother. She doesn't know what to think. Some place in the world there is a boy. He is shy, and peaceful, and small, He is adventurous, dreaming of planets unknown. He would wander the galaxy forever, Trailing after him stardust and clouds. Nobody notices him. Connecting them is one person. They are creative, and caring, and bright. Protective of the people they love, Even if those people overlook them. They feel too small to make a difference. They want to find a purpose. Three people, so very much alike. Simalar in so many ways, yet still different, Each unique in their own right. All existing on the same Earth. Seperate, but never apart. They like being themselves and each other. The only downside to their lives, Is that that have to exist together, Stuck in the same body, unable to change. Each wishing to fit their own mold. But they can't leave each other. Sometimes the Girl in control. She is the happiest of them, She loves her body, which amazingly Fits her, like the perfect glove. She wished to make the others just as happy. The In Between doesn't hate their body. They like how soft they look some days Like when they can look in between. But they still feel wrong sometimes. They don't feel like they can complain. The Boy has it much worse than them. When he has control his body is wrong, The opposite of what he need to exist. He deals with his problem though. He binds his chest and wears button ups. But that doesnt make it right. Nobody knows that they share. Most people are content being one thing. With having a solid identity. But it wasn't their fault, it is how they are made. They didn't ask to be a river. But they still follow the tides. They wouldn't change who they are. They get along fine with each aspect of themself Compensating, trying to feel whole. They have tricks to help them feel right. But perfection doesn't exist. Dysphoria comes as a storm. Turing the river into a rushing waterfall, Full of doubt and self-loathing. Certain things help calm the storm, But sometimes it just keeps raining. They push through the floods Of anxiety and doubt and fear. Giving themself a bowtie for the Boy, A beanie for the In Between, A skirt for the Girl. They persist. And they live.

68

I saw you for the first time Behind a screen Dressed in grey. Brown and beautiful, and a wearing a beanie It was your crown You smiled at times And I stared in awe My screen screamed snapshot But I was to grasped in the moment to think My heart beated furiously Intoxicated by a fiery passion Then on one faithful day I saw you You experience me I layed down my lips On thine lips of my craving Two heart beating for you For only one that satisfies me I am facing you And you, my shoe Blushing and cringing I lift up your face; exquisite; a light in the dark. I kiss you one time, and I say to you these lines, Come with me Your hipster man and hold on tight Grip my hipster hand Stand close to me My hipster bride As you my love Swiftly hug me tight. Our hipster heaven Is sealed off tight A world unknown In my hipster mind. Your sweet hipster lips Press against oh me, oh my This is where feels come from. Shutting you up one kiss at a time With hipster might. Your hipster lips Wage war with mine. Compassionately The freedom of my hipster mind. We are conscience now. We love; ebullient. Perfectly written To excogitate. I love you more than Your hipster mind can comprehend. It can't ever be put in words. You're my hipster wife. I'm your one true love and.. ..your hipster husband. You hipster lips. I hunger for, i'm starving. My hipster source of hipster life. I feed you love. You are always first. Living like mitty Means nothing to me If you aren't happy. Living mitty with me.

0

Jun 16, 2015

Jun 16, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC

justin-harris

Hipster Her & Hipster I.

I saw you for the first time Behind a screen Dressed in grey. Brown and beautiful, and a wearing a beanie It was your crown You smiled at times And I stared in awe My screen screamed snapshot But I was to grasped in the moment to think My heart beated furiously Intoxicated by a fiery passion Then on one faithful day I saw you You experience me I layed down my lips On thine lips of my craving Two heart beating for you For only one that satisfies me I am facing you And you, my shoe Blushing and cringing I lift up your face; exquisite; a light in the dark. I kiss you one time, and I say to you these lines, Come with me Your hipster man and hold on tight Grip my hipster hand Stand close to me My hipster bride As you my love Swiftly hug me tight. Our hipster heaven Is sealed off tight A world unknown In my hipster mind. Your sweet hipster lips Press against oh me, oh my This is where feels come from. Shutting you up one kiss at a time With hipster might. Your hipster lips Wage war with mine. Compassionately The freedom of my hipster mind. We are conscience now. We love; ebullient. Perfectly written To excogitate. I love you more than Your hipster mind can comprehend. It can't ever be put in words. You're my hipster wife. I'm your one true love and.. ..your hipster husband. You hipster lips. I hunger for, i'm starving. My hipster source of hipster life. I feed you love. You are always first. Living like mitty Means nothing to me If you aren't happy. Living mitty with me.

66

i heard him call me through the wind and the smell of his scarf lingers around my neck. he grabs my frosty fingers and warms me up with an embrace. standing outside starbucks, waiting for his apple pie and my hot choco. "Let's get inside, it's warmer there," his breath dances in the cold air, arms encircling around me tighter. I shake my head and snowflakes melt against my beanie, head against his chest, hearing his clumsy heartbeat. "No, being alone with you here in your arms is warm enough for me."

0

Nov 14, 2015

Nov 14, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC

lunar-love

winter wonderland

i heard him call me through the wind and the smell of his scarf lingers around my neck. he grabs my frosty fingers and warms me up with an embrace. standing outside starbucks, waiting for his apple pie and my hot choco. "Let's get inside, it's warmer there," his breath dances in the cold air, arms encircling around me tighter. I shake my head and snowflakes melt against my beanie, head against his chest, hearing his clumsy heartbeat. "No, being alone with you here in your arms is warm enough for me."

9

I leaned my bike up against the gate and Sighed. Leaning against the window was the girl thee girl The girl with her usual Frappe in hand And book in the other. Her flowing red hair And glasses With bright pearls brimming and Shining against her pink lips. Her face Fair and clean Rosy cheeks and A smile. Her clothes Grey beanie Flowy top Jeans and Combat boots. Rings and Jewelry galore And Even some tattoos. shes perfect I think to myself as I Picked my bike back up and Started riding away.

0

May 9, 2013

May 9, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC

rayyy

The girl with the frappe

I leaned my bike up against the gate and Sighed. Leaning against the window was the girl thee girl The girl with her usual Frappe in hand And book in the other. Her flowing red hair And glasses With bright pearls brimming and Shining against her pink lips. Her face Fair and clean Rosy cheeks and A smile. Her clothes Grey beanie Flowy top Jeans and Combat boots. Rings and Jewelry galore And Even some tattoos. shes perfect I think to myself as I Picked my bike back up and Started riding away.

28

My roommates are all up and about. It’s finals week and everyone is hustling about. Lisa came in from an early exam, it was snowing lightly, she looked right at home. “How’d it go?” I quizzed. “E-Z,” she replied, shedding her long navy coat and mango cashmere beanie. After dumping it all on her bed she joined us in the common room. “Blue State (coffee) is closing,” She announced. Leong gasped, “What?” “Three of the four Blue State locations are closing,” Lisa confirmed, “not Orange Street.” “Why?” Leong moaned. “What are you why? Lisa queried. “They’re so popular!” Leong exclaimed, “There’s always SO many people in there.” “That’s real,” I chimed in, “those places are packed and noisy.” “They got bought out,” Lisa attested. “By whom?” Leong wondered. “By another coffee company.. maybe,” Lisa guessed soothingly. “Oh, I hope so.” Leong stated, sounding depressed. “You know what? Lisa added, “rumors were thick that Book Trader would close too.” “No!” Leong bemoaned. “I’m happy to announce that they’re not.” Lisa assured, “That’s something to celebrate.” “I love studying at Book Trader.” I professed. “And their bagels..” Leong mentioned dreamily. “Oh, yeah,” Lisa agreed, “so good, so cheap.” “Change is ineluctable,” Anna sighed. “WHAT?” Leong replied, looking confused. “Inevitable,” Lisa told her, “change is inevitable.” “Then just say that.” Leong grumbled at Anna, who shrugged. “I need to go support my favorite coffee shop soon,” I declared. “Which is?” Leong inquired. “Coffee with a K,” Lisa and I blurted out, both at once. “It has an intimate, date spot vibe,” I explained, “and the chairs that are perfect for putting an arm around someone.” “The Benjamin and Acorn (two on campus coffee shops) are going to be so crowded.” Sunny stated, joining the conversation as she started putting on her shoes to go out. “True THAT.” I agreed. “Common Grounds Cafe,” Sophie revealed, coming from her room, drying her hair with a towel, “bought out Blue State,” she confirmed. “it was in the Yale News.” “OK,” I pronounced, satisfied. “Perfect.” Lisa declared. “Thank God.” Leong agreed. “Coffee’s important.” Sunny proclaimed, picking up her coffee cup and book bag. “See ya!” she waved to the room absently, with her coffee cup, as she opened the door and stepped out.

0

Dec 20, 2022

Dec 20, 2022 at 1:13 PM UTC

anaisvionet

Coffee’s important

My roommates are all up and about. It’s finals week and everyone is hustling about. Lisa came in from an early exam, it was snowing lightly, she looked right at home. “How’d it go?” I quizzed. “E-Z,” she replied, shedding her long navy coat and mango cashmere beanie. After dumping it all on her bed she joined us in the common room. “Blue State (coffee) is closing,” She announced. Leong gasped, “What?” “Three of the four Blue State locations are closing,” Lisa confirmed, “not Orange Street.” “Why?” Leong moaned. “What are you why? Lisa queried. “They’re so popular!” Leong exclaimed, “There’s always SO many people in there.” “That’s real,” I chimed in, “those places are packed and noisy.” “They got bought out,” Lisa attested. “By whom?” Leong wondered. “By another coffee company.. maybe,” Lisa guessed soothingly. “Oh, I hope so.” Leong stated, sounding depressed. “You know what? Lisa added, “rumors were thick that Book Trader would close too.” “No!” Leong bemoaned. “I’m happy to announce that they’re not.” Lisa assured, “That’s something to celebrate.” “I love studying at Book Trader.” I professed. “And their bagels..” Leong mentioned dreamily. “Oh, yeah,” Lisa agreed, “so good, so cheap.” “Change is ineluctable,” Anna sighed. “WHAT?” Leong replied, looking confused. “Inevitable,” Lisa told her, “change is inevitable.” “Then just say that.” Leong grumbled at Anna, who shrugged. “I need to go support my favorite coffee shop soon,” I declared. “Which is?” Leong inquired. “Coffee with a K,” Lisa and I blurted out, both at once. “It has an intimate, date spot vibe,” I explained, “and the chairs that are perfect for putting an arm around someone.” “The Benjamin and Acorn (two on campus coffee shops) are going to be so crowded.” Sunny stated, joining the conversation as she started putting on her shoes to go out. “True THAT.” I agreed. “Common Grounds Cafe,” Sophie revealed, coming from her room, drying her hair with a towel, “bought out Blue State,” she confirmed. “it was in the Yale News.” “OK,” I pronounced, satisfied. “Perfect.” Lisa declared. “Thank God.” Leong agreed. “Coffee’s important.” Sunny proclaimed, picking up her coffee cup and book bag. “See ya!” she waved to the room absently, with her coffee cup, as she opened the door and stepped out.

31

in my coat pockets you will find: a bunch of crumpled up receipts scribbled with love letters i thought of reciting to you; a pack of cigarettes that i feel is more for the artistic sense than the addictive; a mini-lighter on which i wrote the name of my favorite rapper; and a beanie she bought me only a year ago. i’ve taken you on seventeen dates already in my mind and i think i can imagine the sound of your voice when you say “i love you” and the shape the creases on the edges of your lips make when you smile back because i said “i love you too.” but this is only my imagination and sometimes that ****** thing just runs wild.

0

May 13, 2014

May 13, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC

michael-capozzi

cheshire kingdom

in my coat pockets you will find: a bunch of crumpled up receipts scribbled with love letters i thought of reciting to you; a pack of cigarettes that i feel is more for the artistic sense than the addictive; a mini-lighter on which i wrote the name of my favorite rapper; and a beanie she bought me only a year ago. i’ve taken you on seventeen dates already in my mind and i think i can imagine the sound of your voice when you say “i love you” and the shape the creases on the edges of your lips make when you smile back because i said “i love you too.” but this is only my imagination and sometimes that ****** thing just runs wild.

16

She sent a package tied in this biege tweed cord. It turned out to be a picture of you two at the lake, that day it was cold and she wore that beanie with the flames, her hair all curly and escaping, your lips all red and chapped. A folded note tucked on the inside of the frame reads: "I have Connie, **** you Love always, smiley-face, smiley-face smiley-face, smiley-face, me." Connie: your/her rat terrier. You put the picture in its black frame on the tv table. The tweed you nail to two spaced planks on the wall above the tv. It's like abstract modernist-expressionist- constructionist-art. It's just one string. A taut cord of brown tweed. The black night comes, over and over, over and over, she doesn't return, but the tweed remains as taut as a fingernail or an exposed artery. Somehow it's so human and obstinate that the woven vertebrae seems to curve minutely and femininely. As time passes, the tweed moves from beige to golden and gravitational. A call to a friend goes something like this: "Come over here, I've got this amazing thing on my wall." The friend, Eric, calls more friends. The friends come over, all piling around this golden tweed after they've taken stock of the kitchen and Wild Turkey. They take turns plucking it, thumbing it, putting their ears to it, and studying it, all at your insistence. Somebody, ******* Eric, coughs in the room. More people begin to cough. Eric walks up to the the string, that is nailed at top and bottom on two spaced planks. Eric gives it a final hard tug, snapping it like a belt. the tweed hums and shivers off a few flakes of dust and amber material. "I've just wasted five minutes with this thing," Eric says to the string, and you. Eric speaks for the group. He turns and leaves, taking the whole group of twenty with him. They trail behind Eric like a great, long tail flicking and knocking things over in your apartment out of sheer agitation on the way out. The golden gravity subsumes you. You do not close the door behind them, you can't even hear their tiny, black voices as they all clamor into the elevator and ding.

0

Nov 19, 2011

Nov 19, 2011 at 11:30 PM UTC

Waverly

Why do we ever tell our friends about the people we love?

She sent a package tied in this biege tweed cord. It turned out to be a picture of you two at the lake, that day it was cold and she wore that beanie with the flames, her hair all curly and escaping, your lips all red and chapped. A folded note tucked on the inside of the frame reads: "I have Connie, **** you Love always, smiley-face, smiley-face smiley-face, smiley-face, me." Connie: your/her rat terrier. You put the picture in its black frame on the tv table. The tweed you nail to two spaced planks on the wall above the tv. It's like abstract modernist-expressionist- constructionist-art. It's just one string. A taut cord of brown tweed. The black night comes, over and over, over and over, she doesn't return, but the tweed remains as taut as a fingernail or an exposed artery. Somehow it's so human and obstinate that the woven vertebrae seems to curve minutely and femininely. As time passes, the tweed moves from beige to golden and gravitational. A call to a friend goes something like this: "Come over here, I've got this amazing thing on my wall." The friend, Eric, calls more friends. The friends come over, all piling around this golden tweed after they've taken stock of the kitchen and Wild Turkey. They take turns plucking it, thumbing it, putting their ears to it, and studying it, all at your insistence. Somebody, ******* Eric, coughs in the room. More people begin to cough. Eric walks up to the the string, that is nailed at top and bottom on two spaced planks. Eric gives it a final hard tug, snapping it like a belt. the tweed hums and shivers off a few flakes of dust and amber material. "I've just wasted five minutes with this thing," Eric says to the string, and you. Eric speaks for the group. He turns and leaves, taking the whole group of twenty with him. They trail behind Eric like a great, long tail flicking and knocking things over in your apartment out of sheer agitation on the way out. The golden gravity subsumes you. You do not close the door behind them, you can't even hear their tiny, black voices as they all clamor into the elevator and ding.

100

do you remember sitting in the ER at 3 AM and seeing an x-ray of a head and a big white blank space in it and the warm white blankets on your 11 year old legs felt cold all of a sudden. you were given a stuffed Beanie Baby frog and you ran around the hospital courtyard nervously taking the frog to Animal World with your 8 year old sister and her rainbow colored bear. and then you sat up and helped the nurse take your mom's blood pressure and he smiled at how clear her lungs were even with the asthma and told you that you could be a doctor if you wanted to because doctors save people they fix people. people can't be fixed. there are so many different levels of mastery. I have counted all of my fingers in rhythm backwards and forwards and I think I have mastered that there are 10 and only 10. there are only 7 notes with little half steps increments in between them in the musical alphabet but the mastery of those? next to impossible. who knew playing a violin could make you sweat down the nape of your neck while lining the rim of your forehead with frustration. fingers become red and warm stop trying to play so quickly so much. however, self-loathing is not healthy so maybe we should keep playing until I am red in the face and the loathing is cured. will it ever be? you should stop doing the friggin peace sign at everyone you see but you won't and that's okay I suppose. I hope it's not true that people say what they really feel when they're angry...if it is I'm lost in contempt some of the time. I am the most oblivious of the aware I hope salt skin is accepted here.

0

Sep 13, 2015

Sep 13, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC

sweet-ridicule

do u

do you remember sitting in the ER at 3 AM and seeing an x-ray of a head and a big white blank space in it and the warm white blankets on your 11 year old legs felt cold all of a sudden. you were given a stuffed Beanie Baby frog and you ran around the hospital courtyard nervously taking the frog to Animal World with your 8 year old sister and her rainbow colored bear. and then you sat up and helped the nurse take your mom's blood pressure and he smiled at how clear her lungs were even with the asthma and told you that you could be a doctor if you wanted to because doctors save people they fix people. people can't be fixed. there are so many different levels of mastery. I have counted all of my fingers in rhythm backwards and forwards and I think I have mastered that there are 10 and only 10. there are only 7 notes with little half steps increments in between them in the musical alphabet but the mastery of those? next to impossible. who knew playing a violin could make you sweat down the nape of your neck while lining the rim of your forehead with frustration. fingers become red and warm stop trying to play so quickly so much. however, self-loathing is not healthy so maybe we should keep playing until I am red in the face and the loathing is cured. will it ever be? you should stop doing the friggin peace sign at everyone you see but you won't and that's okay I suppose. I hope it's not true that people say what they really feel when they're angry...if it is I'm lost in contempt some of the time. I am the most oblivious of the aware I hope salt skin is accepted here.

6

I want to love a radical chick with brightly colored hair and tattoos on her arms piercings under her skin and doc martins stomping on the ground smoking **** and dancing in dark open fields playfully doing somersaults falling on her *** and holding me under her arm never without her beanie or her sarcastically loving tone I want a radical girl to call my own

0

Nov 13, 2012

Nov 13, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC

briana-hailey-ferenczy-1

radical chick

I want to love a radical chick with brightly colored hair and tattoos on her arms piercings under her skin and doc martins stomping on the ground smoking **** and dancing in dark open fields playfully doing somersaults falling on her *** and holding me under her arm never without her beanie or her sarcastically loving tone I want a radical girl to call my own

12