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"begged" poems
She was like music, and I longed to dance. Her heart was the beat, and I begged for the chance. Her words were the vocals, and I was put in a trance. Her smile was the melody, and I fell in love at first glance.
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Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 7:43 PM UTC
She was like Music
Our love was a roller coaster. It had ups and downs and I sat real close to her. It had a real slow climb and a real quick drop. I screamed "faster" and she begged it to stop. I put up my hands and she held on tight. Not a second of boredom on our rickety flight. And when it came to a stop at that first safer place, I said, "Let's do it again," and she puked in my face.
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Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
Roller Coaster
i spent my life trying to please someone with a twisted disease i broke myself down and tucked my feelings away to become the person they wanted me to be i let myself be watched through the glass of a two sided mirror of a sociopath i wallowed my spirit away and begged for acceptance but there’s nothing in the world that i could do to let the narcissist know that i am human too
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Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 3:43 AM UTC
narcissism
(For Eric Killmonger) A little boy stared in the clouds Forgotten tales screaming loud His word small and nothing wrong It all shattered after too long Stories of cities that touched the sky Clans of people untouched by time Hope soon filled his boyish dreams But not everything was as it seemed One night he came home and saw His father dead, struck down by claw Weeping over his fathers head He begged him to stay, not leave him instead Shattered dreams and shattered hopes He held the myth achingly close Alone, no one there to guide He locked his humanity deep inside Battling for a way to free them all Seeking power and in deaths thrall The world had taken everything away And all in one single day So he would take everything away from it His soul a star no longer lit Now he lay there quietly dying His enemy close, no longer fighting The world it seemed would take him too His glittering eyes full of rue There was nothing left for him here Breathing ragged and full of fear Finally he took his very last breath And slipped away as his life left And as the sun left the sky The night descended with a sigh The little boy was dead and gone His life a sad and weary song. -Roguesong- -Esther L. Krenzin-
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Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
Sunset
Am I really that uncouth? Have you lot yet worked out the truth. The **** I write, it's so contrite. I know you're dim but I thought you might. I've been feeding bananas to you all. Big bananas, none are small. All are bent, of course they are. Enough's enough, it's gone too far. Dear Voyeurs, to all my fans. Some ride cycles, some drive vans. for M&Y, yeah you're the guy. So I bait my line and continue the lie. But let's have it right, as well I might. You wanted to play, so pretended you're gay. Now most I know aren't, but one or two do. Boiler repair guy with the twinkly eye. Bent over in two, I spank with a shoe. And all that he asks is, I call him Sue. So I have him pegged, for that's what he begged. But now he knocks on my door wanting much more. Fuckin' Big Bent Bananas by Kaydee. (slurp, slurp)
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Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC
Big Bent Bananas
She told me she loved me, that I've no need to fear. I believed all the lies that she breathed in my ear. I pulled her in close, closer than anyone before. I tried not to cry or she wouldn't love me anymore. I couldn't hold back, forever stalked by self-pity- I wept, and she left. Translucent comforts pierced through me. She hates me now, a bit more every day. I've not given up yet- I want her to stay. Perhaps she will wish, once I'm hanging lifeless from a tree, that she'd loved me forever, as I begged for it to be.
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Jul 22, 2011
Jul 22, 2011 at 11:07 AM UTC
Unforgiven Love
I was 15, And you were 16. And we met through a computer screen. And we instantly connected. And we talked non-stop. And we became best friends. And we shared our deepest secrets with one another, not caring that we were two complete strangers. That never really mattered. We were just troubled kids, longing for someone to talk to. Someone who felt the things we did. Someone who wouldn't judge us. Someone who might possibly understand. We found that in each other. You were my solace. And I loved you. I told you about how my family was no longer a family. And you told me about how you didn't know if you could handle much more. And I was worried. And you occasionally disappeared for days on end. And I became frantic. And you would tell me you were in the hospital. Those ****** pills again. And I begged you to stop, To try and get better. Because you were my solace. And I loved you. I was 16, and you were 17. And you had a girlfriend. And she didnt like me. Or maybe she just didnt like what we had. So she made you choose. And it broke my heart to see you choose her. Because you were my solace. And I loved you. Six months later. Six devastatingly long months later. I heard from you again. And I didn't know how to feel. So I cried. Tears of anger, sadness, regret. But mostly joy. Because you were back. You were finally back. And you were my solace. And I loved you. I was 17, And you were 18. And we met face to face. After two long years, it finally happened. And it was the best night of my life. And I was so sad to see you leave. But you had to return to your broken home. And things got worse for you. And old habits picked back up. And your depression consumed you. And it ate me alive to see you that way. Because you were my solace. And I loved you. I am 18, And you should be 19. But you never got to see that day. Because old habits die hard. And you finally succeeded. And my heart feels like it's been ripped out of my chest. But the rest of my body is numb. And my mind is darker than ever. Because now I have no one to share my secrets with. No one to listen. Because you are gone. And you were my solace. And I love you. ~kns
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May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
Solace.
I was 15, And you were 16. And we met through a computer screen. And we instantly connected. And we talked non-stop. And we became best friends. And we shared our deepest secrets with one another, not caring that we were two complete strangers. That never really mattered. We were just troubled kids, longing for someone to talk to. Someone who felt the things we did. Someone who wouldn't judge us. Someone who might possibly understand. We found that in each other. You were my solace. And I loved you. I told you about how my family was no longer a family. And you told me about how you didn't know if you could handle much more. And I was worried. And you occasionally disappeared for days on end. And I became frantic. And you would tell me you were in the hospital. Those ****** pills again. And I begged you to stop, To try and get better. Because you were my solace. And I loved you. I was 16, and you were 17. And you had a girlfriend. And she didnt like me. Or maybe she just didnt like what we had. So she made you choose. And it broke my heart to see you choose her. Because you were my solace. And I loved you. Six months later. Six devastatingly long months later. I heard from you again. And I didn't know how to feel. So I cried. Tears of anger, sadness, regret. But mostly joy. Because you were back. You were finally back. And you were my solace. And I loved you. I was 17, And you were 18. And we met face to face. After two long years, it finally happened. And it was the best night of my life. And I was so sad to see you leave. But you had to return to your broken home. And things got worse for you. And old habits picked back up. And your depression consumed you. And it ate me alive to see you that way. Because you were my solace. And I loved you. I am 18, And you should be 19. But you never got to see that day. Because old habits die hard. And you finally succeeded. And my heart feels like it's been ripped out of my chest. But the rest of my body is numb. And my mind is darker than ever. Because now I have no one to share my secrets with. No one to listen. Because you are gone. And you were my solace. And I love you. ~kns
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I had a dream of you last night A hot wet lustful dream Your naked body begged for me as mine was hard for you Your eyes sparkled in the light Your smile gave off a glow I couldn't take my eyes off you I wanted you so bad I held you in my arms real tight Never wanting to let go Your chest pressed up against my chest Our hearts beating as one I kissed you gently on the lips As i caressed your back Our lip now locked in an embrace As our wandering hands explore I start to kiss you on your neck Then slowly down your arm I kiss each of your fingers Then up your other arm I kiss down to your perfect breast then **** on each sweet ****** I lay you gently on the bed while kissing down you belly I can't resist your silky thighs While kissing every inch I kiss down your left leg Before ******* on your toes I kiss up your right leg And then your inner thighs You wrap both legs around me As I worship your ***** I kiss and lick and **** your **** As you moan lovingly I lift your thighs to kiss your *** I'm so intoxified After I've made you *** for me I insert my hard **** Our bodies locked in ebb and flow Until I just explode We hold each other tightly As we kiss til we pass out I wake up in a sticky mess To find it was a dream I had a dream of you last night One that I wish was real I often dream of you at night You are my perfect dream
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Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 7:07 AM UTC
I had a Dream of You Last Night
I loved most of all a cold blue eyed doll. I knew that fall, I'd fall for a doll. Red my doll if it could blush, how most I'd get a such and such and my mind, a grove, a lush such and such. Then a doll raises peaceful uproars, if it weren't alive then before, I'd pray peace at its door the **** 'll open before me. I beg and steal for all, I begged for this blue eyed doll, we're stuck between ourselves and lawls, that uttered from a cold, white, doll.
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
The Doll
Potholed road full busload, rumble cloud rain, Hole in sky angers fly, groan they all in pain, Flooded way joy at bay, no relief respite, Begged it rain summer’s pain, scorching day and night, You prayed it god brought it, the monsoon’s delight, Don’t grumble slip tumble, curse it as a plight.
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Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
Monsoon Delight
I remember the first time you told me that you stopped drinking. My heart took flight and the idea of having a sober father became the root of my happiness. You got drunk that night. I remember the first time you let me down. I stood alone among my peers because you had better things to do. You got drunk that night. I remember the first time I slit my porcelain skin open for you. As blood trickled from my veins I begged you to come and rescue me from the demons in my mind. You got drunk that night. I remember the first time I tried to put an end to all the madness that engulfed my life. I grabbed your gun from the safe and shot a bullet through my head. I will never know if you got drunk that night. You probably did.
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Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
You Probably Did
Last night I had a dream that you died. Everyone we knew came, said their I’m-so-sorry’s, and left, filtering out the front door slowly like sand through a sideways sifter, leaving behind pieces, words and memories and casseroles I could not taste. And the whole time everyone was here, you were here, too. I could hear you, smell you, feel you. I could feel you surrounding me like the ghost of the baby blanket I once had and could never leave at home. I loved you here and here you would stay, with me, and now you would never leave. I could keep you. You were bound to me. But the ties that bind are tight and you did not like me leaving. You could not go with me and you accidentally and without words by holding, enveloping, suffocating you told me that you did not want me to ever leave again. So I stopped. I stopped leaving. And the calls stopped, too. The invites. The lunches. The impromptu trips to town. All unnecessary noise. The people left. And then it was just you and me. Until one day I saw what you had done. Tripping I glanced in the mirror and saw. You had etched yourself into my face. Dug with your nails terrifying ravines escaping the corners of my eyes. Pulled down my mouth and every shallow natural valley turned to deep empty bowl, hungry and wanting. My eyes no longer held light. I saw this, all evidence against you, and I still loved you. You had hurt me in ways you never had while you were here – here – and I knew. And I still loved you. Slinking up the stairs I called you to me. I felt you surround faster than before and closer, tighter, colder. Suffocating, stifling and so destructive in how you loved me. Slowly but faster I grew to know I would not become you and you would not become me. We were stuck on other sides of the mirror. I was so angry at what you had allowed me made me begged me to become. Realizing I gasped and put hand to heart it hurt so. I stood upright how long have I been bent took in one long deep breath of stuffy air how long since I opened the windows and called you to me when have I last heard a voice not my own called you to listen. I felt the loss of everything else friends family adventure excitement. Nothing was left of that here and I was so angry and I am so sorry and I yelled       I screamed       I roared why are you still here why are you making me like you why did you come here and hold me and keep me here with you I am not the one who is dead and I said and I regret and I am so sorry I can’t have you here go away and leave me alone and you did. You left me all alone. Why would you leave me?
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
Leaving
Last night I had a dream that you died. Everyone we knew came, said their I’m-so-sorry’s, and left, filtering out the front door slowly like sand through a sideways sifter, leaving behind pieces, words and memories and casseroles I could not taste. And the whole time everyone was here, you were here, too. I could hear you, smell you, feel you. I could feel you surrounding me like the ghost of the baby blanket I once had and could never leave at home. I loved you here and here you would stay, with me, and now you would never leave. I could keep you. You were bound to me. But the ties that bind are tight and you did not like me leaving. You could not go with me and you accidentally and without words by holding, enveloping, suffocating you told me that you did not want me to ever leave again. So I stopped. I stopped leaving. And the calls stopped, too. The invites. The lunches. The impromptu trips to town. All unnecessary noise. The people left. And then it was just you and me. Until one day I saw what you had done. Tripping I glanced in the mirror and saw. You had etched yourself into my face. Dug with your nails terrifying ravines escaping the corners of my eyes. Pulled down my mouth and every shallow natural valley turned to deep empty bowl, hungry and wanting. My eyes no longer held light. I saw this, all evidence against you, and I still loved you. You had hurt me in ways you never had while you were here – here – and I knew. And I still loved you. Slinking up the stairs I called you to me. I felt you surround faster than before and closer, tighter, colder. Suffocating, stifling and so destructive in how you loved me. Slowly but faster I grew to know I would not become you and you would not become me. We were stuck on other sides of the mirror. I was so angry at what you had allowed me made me begged me to become. Realizing I gasped and put hand to heart it hurt so. I stood upright how long have I been bent took in one long deep breath of stuffy air how long since I opened the windows and called you to me when have I last heard a voice not my own called you to listen. I felt the loss of everything else friends family adventure excitement. Nothing was left of that here and I was so angry and I am so sorry and I yelled       I screamed       I roared why are you still here why are you making me like you why did you come here and hold me and keep me here with you I am not the one who is dead and I said and I regret and I am so sorry I can’t have you here go away and leave me alone and you did. You left me all alone. Why would you leave me?
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What if I had fallen to my knees On the cold parking lot concrete Tears washing over my cheeks And cries no one should ever have to hear Bellowing out from beneath my ribs Screaming at the sky Looking up at your face Forcing you (and everyone else) To see me in this godforsaken state Of absolute chaos Heartbreak In it's rawest form What if I had begged you to stay? What if I'd told you I can't do this without you? What if I'd told you how much I needed you What if I did anything other than fighting back the tears Maybe for myself, maybe for you, Mostly for the crowd of people gathering Saying their goodbyes Anxiously looking around to bear witness to everyone else's reactions And I didn't want to be that girl That girl who falls to the ground Kicking and screaming and crying and begging But what if I was? What if I was any girl other than the one I pretended to be that day The one that held her tongue and kept her mouth shut because she knew the second she opened it to speak she would sob The one that wrapped her arms around you for the last time, and the one that let go The one that couldn't bear to watch you walk away So she kissed you goodbye Got back in the car And drove home What if i wasn't that girl who didnt allow herself to completely fall apart until she was alone in the privacy of her own home? What if instead I'd made a scene, Doing what everything inside me so desperately wanted to Grabbing hold of your hand and refusing to let go Losing the facade of confidence The charade of strength But I'm not that girl And I never will be So each and every time you leave I kiss you goodbye I unclench my fists and retract my anchors I untether my heart from it's human home And I put on a brave face Maybe for myself, maybe for you, Or maybe For that girl.
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
That girl
What if I had fallen to my knees On the cold parking lot concrete Tears washing over my cheeks And cries no one should ever have to hear Bellowing out from beneath my ribs Screaming at the sky Looking up at your face Forcing you (and everyone else) To see me in this godforsaken state Of absolute chaos Heartbreak In it's rawest form What if I had begged you to stay? What if I'd told you I can't do this without you? What if I'd told you how much I needed you What if I did anything other than fighting back the tears Maybe for myself, maybe for you, Mostly for the crowd of people gathering Saying their goodbyes Anxiously looking around to bear witness to everyone else's reactions And I didn't want to be that girl That girl who falls to the ground Kicking and screaming and crying and begging But what if I was? What if I was any girl other than the one I pretended to be that day The one that held her tongue and kept her mouth shut because she knew the second she opened it to speak she would sob The one that wrapped her arms around you for the last time, and the one that let go The one that couldn't bear to watch you walk away So she kissed you goodbye Got back in the car And drove home What if i wasn't that girl who didnt allow herself to completely fall apart until she was alone in the privacy of her own home? What if instead I'd made a scene, Doing what everything inside me so desperately wanted to Grabbing hold of your hand and refusing to let go Losing the facade of confidence The charade of strength But I'm not that girl And I never will be So each and every time you leave I kiss you goodbye I unclench my fists and retract my anchors I untether my heart from it's human home And I put on a brave face Maybe for myself, maybe for you, Or maybe For that girl.
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50
when i was younger i begged time to go faster i wanted to grow up right then and there but now that i know the horrors of growing older i wish i could've stayed young
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Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 2:49 PM UTC
the days are long ...
Saturday night, I’m getting crazy as usual, taking pictures of my cats because they just look so beautiful. Yea, some people go out, but I’ve got so much to do, boys line up to take me out on dates but I tell them to shoo. “Who are these guys?” you wonder, but don’t worry about that, you wouldn’t know them because, they’re from a secret, hot guy frat. I stumbled upon it once when I was out doing cool stuff, like dancing with a king, and jumping off of bluffs. Then one day, I jumped right into the hot guys secret lair, and after I landed they could do nothing but stare. I thought that they were looking at the mole on my face, and I was right, but they loved it and begged me to stay at their place. Not for the night, but forever, they didn’t want me to leave, and who can blame them, I’ve got a badass weave. But I had to decline, I just wasn’t ready for that, so they said, “Come back anytime, even if you get fat.” And with tears in my eyes, I bid them goodbye, started my jetpack, and flew off into the sky. I don’t have pictures of any of this because they were burned up in the fire, but I can definitely assure you that I’m not a ***** liar. But anyway, back to what I’m doing tonight, I know that you’ll be jealous, you can’t help it, that’s alright. I’m meeting up with Michael Scott and crew, but that’s not really a big deal, we see each other every day, one time he tried to cop a feel. Well, I may have just imagined that, which is probably pretty weird, But I gave up on normal long ago, like my mother always feared. Which is why I’m sitting here on Saturday night, talking to some cats, who have low self-esteem because the media made them think they’re fat. Those cats on the MeowMix commercials always look so thin, no matter how hard regular cats try, they can really never win. “Don’t worry about it,” I tell them, “Let’s just have some fun.” So now we’re watching TV, because, what else would we have done?
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Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:09 PM UTC
Cool Cats
Saturday night, I’m getting crazy as usual, taking pictures of my cats because they just look so beautiful. Yea, some people go out, but I’ve got so much to do, boys line up to take me out on dates but I tell them to shoo. “Who are these guys?” you wonder, but don’t worry about that, you wouldn’t know them because, they’re from a secret, hot guy frat. I stumbled upon it once when I was out doing cool stuff, like dancing with a king, and jumping off of bluffs. Then one day, I jumped right into the hot guys secret lair, and after I landed they could do nothing but stare. I thought that they were looking at the mole on my face, and I was right, but they loved it and begged me to stay at their place. Not for the night, but forever, they didn’t want me to leave, and who can blame them, I’ve got a badass weave. But I had to decline, I just wasn’t ready for that, so they said, “Come back anytime, even if you get fat.” And with tears in my eyes, I bid them goodbye, started my jetpack, and flew off into the sky. I don’t have pictures of any of this because they were burned up in the fire, but I can definitely assure you that I’m not a ***** liar. But anyway, back to what I’m doing tonight, I know that you’ll be jealous, you can’t help it, that’s alright. I’m meeting up with Michael Scott and crew, but that’s not really a big deal, we see each other every day, one time he tried to cop a feel. Well, I may have just imagined that, which is probably pretty weird, But I gave up on normal long ago, like my mother always feared. Which is why I’m sitting here on Saturday night, talking to some cats, who have low self-esteem because the media made them think they’re fat. Those cats on the MeowMix commercials always look so thin, no matter how hard regular cats try, they can really never win. “Don’t worry about it,” I tell them, “Let’s just have some fun.” So now we’re watching TV, because, what else would we have done?
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An Elephant and a Giraffe Relaxed in a whirlpool bath "Move your trunk," Giraffe begged, "It's draped over my leg." "It's not my trunk," the Elephant laughed!
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 10:18 PM UTC
Elephant and a Giraffe
In the darkness of constricting depression I begged the Lord to give me joy even if it killed me, and He promised me it most assuredly would, for this is joy’s mantra: “Death to self!” It is simply not possible to know the deepest kind of joy until we have experienced the anguish of death to self with a cruel stake of affliction though our hearts. For it is there on the altar of sacrifice when we have finally surrendered what is most dear to us, when we have willingly brought our costliest gifts to lay humbly at the feet of the King, that we are raised up to know firsthand His resurrection joy through the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings. No one who has ever truly learned that “to live is Christ and to die is gain” has ever escaped this path. Find me even one. There is nothing quite like rejection to teach us about God’s love, nothing quite like loss to teach us of His joy, nothing like storms to teach peace, nothing like ruined plans to teach patience, nothing like loneliness to teach kindness, nothing like failure to teach us of His goodness, nothing like betrayal to teach faithfulness, nothing like being completely misunderstood to teach gentleness and nothing like humiliation to teach us self-control. Why is this? Because there is nothing like pain to chase us to Jesus and to teach us to rely so helplessly on His Spirit’s filling. And when we have His filling, we will know His fruit.
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Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
~ Joy's Mantra ~
Snip Cut Bang Simmer I want a transit, a travel against my skin, that keeps going until I command it to stop. My mouth begged for light, to feel warmth on my face Heat oven to 450 You laughed and tossed me, a rag, away from the mahogany scent of your chest to the cold, hard floor that I am stuck to. I miss you I try to imagine you so that I can delude myself into continuing, but my mind strangely has already forgotten you. I cannot remember your eyes, or even your favorite color anymore. Some wish for that type of amnesia, but I am solemn. I wanted a piece of you to carry with me always. Cook for fifteen minutes or until dark I hear my other side in my head; She is the evil within me. I am brunbrunette, she is red. I wear flats--her long legs are attracted to heels. She smiles and with a curvy, smooth voice, much like a fiery dame from 1920: "He has a piece of you though; you gave him your whole heart, and he only took a bite! That's alright, you don't need him or anything like him! You are a woman.... " I drown her out with recipes, 4 cups of music and 1 cup chardonnay (okay maybe MORE than one)-- therapy that I have made many appointments for. Adding bits and pieces of me that I share, and some I don't One thing I know, if a new one comes along, he is going to have to be patient, I learned my lesson from burning out on the first batch Take out--let cool Don't eat all at once--savor. Enjoy a slice at a time.
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Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
Scheibe Chef
his breath woke me up every night we lay in bed; no, it wasn't that his breath smelled of toxins, but of dandelions and poppies. his hair smelled like he rolled around in fields of roses and he was the single dandelion that begged and pleaded to fit in. he would never fit in but he didn't know that, so he kept trying and it was so beautiful to say the least. underneath his skin, in-between his veins and his bones are tiny seeds that i planted with kisses and they grow with my love, when i wrap my bony arms around him and squeeze tightly - it lets him know that he's not normal, that he's not right in the head but i love that. so when he wakes me in the middle of the night, as i lie between him and the emptiness of the night, i think that i'm dying but the moon light lingers and i know i am safe with his flower breath and the weeds growing in-between us and the roots that grow out of my heels and strangle the love picture frames on our off-white bedroom wall. i stare at those cookie-cutter pictures and wish i wasn't right in the head, too, but if we both were psychotic, he wouldn't be a dandelion. so i stay awake and watch his beauty radiate in the darkness of the night and wish that i was that beautiful too. but he tells me that my battle wounds don't amount to anything to him, that my skin is a ghost to him. i wish he saw me for me, but his eyes see the beauty that he grows. but several nights he leaves me and i am cold and i am worthless and i pray to a god that he will come back and taunt me because i cannot stand it when he is not here between my fragile arms keeping me warm and safe. i beg him when he returns to just stay the night, just one more night, because i cannot bare to sleep without the dandelion amidst all the rose petals. i need my dandelion to keep me safe and to be the needle in the haystack - i need him to be in my arms because idon'twanttosleepalone.
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
please stay, i don't want to sleep alone
his breath woke me up every night we lay in bed; no, it wasn't that his breath smelled of toxins, but of dandelions and poppies. his hair smelled like he rolled around in fields of roses and he was the single dandelion that begged and pleaded to fit in. he would never fit in but he didn't know that, so he kept trying and it was so beautiful to say the least. underneath his skin, in-between his veins and his bones are tiny seeds that i planted with kisses and they grow with my love, when i wrap my bony arms around him and squeeze tightly - it lets him know that he's not normal, that he's not right in the head but i love that. so when he wakes me in the middle of the night, as i lie between him and the emptiness of the night, i think that i'm dying but the moon light lingers and i know i am safe with his flower breath and the weeds growing in-between us and the roots that grow out of my heels and strangle the love picture frames on our off-white bedroom wall. i stare at those cookie-cutter pictures and wish i wasn't right in the head, too, but if we both were psychotic, he wouldn't be a dandelion. so i stay awake and watch his beauty radiate in the darkness of the night and wish that i was that beautiful too. but he tells me that my battle wounds don't amount to anything to him, that my skin is a ghost to him. i wish he saw me for me, but his eyes see the beauty that he grows. but several nights he leaves me and i am cold and i am worthless and i pray to a god that he will come back and taunt me because i cannot stand it when he is not here between my fragile arms keeping me warm and safe. i beg him when he returns to just stay the night, just one more night, because i cannot bare to sleep without the dandelion amidst all the rose petals. i need my dandelion to keep me safe and to be the needle in the haystack - i need him to be in my arms because idon'twanttosleepalone.
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He used to drink orange juice out of cups that curved, like his smile used to, licking droplets of orange sun off of his lips; sun beams, that shined from his face, and his eyes, which was unfair because he knew; I'm telling you, he knew, that summer was my favorite time of year. And when the sun hit me, like a thousand arrows, from the bow of Heartbreak, that I would think of him and his orange juice cup. And question all the reseons he sent me letters with different stamps, always scribbled in black lines, like his pupils, when I let him see through the jail bars of my soul, and I asked him, no, I begged him to leave me cuffed to the wall, with no food or water, starving my desire to love again, knowing that if I devoured every word, every sound, and memory, of trembling hands on first dates, leaning in to kiss me, with lips and fists at the nape of my neck, clinging to me like feathers; with every single intake of breath, and caterpillars that wrapped themselves in silk, and waited for days and nights to pass, until finally, they spread their wings to reveal Picasso's paintings, that I would eventually die of starvation, as the words ran out, and the kisses became short, and the butterflies died... He knew. He knew that I loved summer; and the drops of orange juice on his lips.
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Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
Spoken word.
Dream Love when I lay down to sleep, will you lay with me in your dreams? I ran from the comfort of shadows, into the fear of darkness, turned back again, and saw you. Saw only the eyes of you, I begged, take my spirit and soul, so I may become a part of you and you begged give me your spirit and soul so you may become a part of me, so we may be home alone together, never  apart in spirit and soul.
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Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 4:58 PM UTC
Happy Birthday from me to you
please don’t touch me she said looking at the floor because while it may seem like no big deal to you to her, your hands feel like bugs crawling beneath her skin invading the comfort of her own body please don’t kiss me she whispered turning away because even though she is in a relationship with you consent still needs to be renewed like vows to keep each other safe from the demons of assault please don’t force me she begged as she laid beneath you because a woman is taught that her clothes can’t be too revealing and her smile can’t be too friendly instead of teaching men that **** is horrible and no means no please don’t push someone for *** because ****** assault is not always a drug induced nightmare or a physical force holding you down it can be the manipulation or the bribing the begging or the crying please don’t forget it’s not just about *** it’s about who is in control and who is controlled the owner and the object we are all equals it’s time to treat us as such
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Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 12:48 AM UTC
please don’t
I wonder if every dandelion I have sent through the wind whispered how I still long for a warm embrace. And so I begged my friendly, fragile friends once more. These  little wisps of white. Please murmur my wishes to the breeze. My song of love,  my dream of peace.
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Feb 12, 2023
Feb 12, 2023 at 9:03 AM UTC
A Whisper from a Dreamer