"disapprove" poems
S • Skin tight, skeletal cage
both ribs and mind.
K • Keep a strict diet, never break it, always hide it from those who would disapprove, so I learned to suffered in silence.
I • Internally a growl would emit, I reveled in the power I would get from it. To know I was structured, I wasnt a jumbled mess. Like the mass jiggling, clingling to this withering carcass.
N • Never could the fat girl come back out. carve her, choke her, starve her till she lost the will to shout. Shout for help, shout for freedom, shout for love in this life. Useless, everybody knows only fit people have that right.
N • Nobody would believe if I told a soul my struggle. "You are huge, big blue
whale how can someone like you have a disorder?
Y• Yell, scream "I WANT TO BE ME"
But I can't because of our society
deeming people like me are wrong,
why should my weight define wether or not I belong?
But because it does I hate myself.
I live this life with a wish to die,
all because my body is not
S•K•I•N•N•Y
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
Warning: Use dis list in context.
You decide on which side you fall.
disappear
disregard
disaster
displace
disqualify
disrepair
disturb
dissipate
disability
dispose
dismal
distribute
distrust
disturb
discriminate
discuss
disdain
disguise
dishearten
disinherit
disown
disparage
disagree
disgruntle
disclose
discolour
dispute
disarm
discover
disassemble
disadvantage
disallow
dispossess
discontent
discontinue
disrespect
disincline
discomfort
disrepute
dishonest
disillusion
dishonor
dismiss
disobey
disjoin
disappoint
discipline
discord
discern
discrete
disfigure
disconnect
disapprove
discharge
disbar
disease
discord
disfavor
disengage
disassociate
discipline
discount
disembody
displace
dissaray
disembowel
discombobulate
discredit
discourse
disentangle
disenfranchise
disembark
discard
disburse
disbelief
discover
disable
disagree
disintegrate
dismay
dispense
dislodge
disclaimer
disapprove
dissatisfy
disrupt
dispel
dislike
dismantle
disloyal
disbatch
disrobe
disperse
display
disaprove
disciple
disavow
disconcert
disinfect
disorder
dismal
dismember
displease
dissemble
disunity
dislocate
distort
distrust
distress
dissolute
disassociate
distill
discect (?)
distemper
distain
distasteful
distraught
dissolve
dissonant
dissuade
And dis isn't de end.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
When your children
Near berserk us;
When the maitre de
Would disapprove;
When the pastor
Stops the service
To ask your cut-ups
To stop and move,
I shrug my shoulders.
Don't grow nervous...
I buy, of course,
Though they don't deserve it....
When the ice cream vender
Tries to serve us....
Not my monkeys!
Not my circus!
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 7:17 AM UTC
my eyes cry a million tears
my heart feels many fears
my mind feels so alone
my life feels like there's nothing left
but im still going
im far from dead
no feelings left to feel
few experiences left to have
i can only think of one more thing
one that isnt so bad
you are my final experience left to be had
you make me happy
you make me sad
you make me feel everything
good and bad
you make me love you!
and its so sad
because you have no idea
and some would walk away
and just say
thats too bad
but ill stay here with you
ill pay my debt to you
and this i will never do
ill never leave you
because nothing can separate me from you
ive got one last thing to do
and that is to fufill my love to you
let the rain drip down your face
let the tears drain all of your fears
let the darkness fall to the floor
and i will make sure that nothing will hurt you anymore
let the wind brush through your hair
let me show you i will always be there
tell me what i must do
to forever be with you
if your friends leave you
and if mine do to
that doesn't mean we cant be true
beyond the end of time
your family might disapprove
and mine might too
this is gonna be difficult for me and you
but ill stay here with you
ill pay my debt to you
and this i will never do
ill never leave you
and on the foggiest days
ill make the skies look blue
and on the darkest nights
ill show you the sunlight
with one wing black
and one wing white
we will live between the dark
and the light
we will live our life
with strength and might
and be in our love
with passion and flight
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 12:38 PM UTC
The dead-bolts on the interior doors
Against the nephews most securely locked
(One is destructive; the other explores)
Ignored by their mother (usually crocked)
The brother-in-law babbles about his bowels
And surgeries over the festive spread
Ignoring his wife’s disapproving scowls
Detailing each grim therapy and med
The puppies are safely penned inside
Because of an incident with a crowbar
And a nephew who kicked and screamed and cried -
He wasn’t allowed to **** the dogs or bash the car
His mother comforted him in his tears
And glowered at me for telling him no
And comforted herself with a few more beers
Her special child is sensitive, you know
The brother-in-law’s colonoscopy
With lurid adjectives of graphic doom
Comes with the pie and more iced tea
His miseries circulate around the room
Then from the living room an expensive crash
“Not me!” “Not me!” More screams and denials and cries
An old family vase – it’s now just trash
“You shouldn’t have glass around,” their mother sighs
The brother-in-law offers to show his scars
He finds his shirt buttons, makes his move
We other men escape outside for cigars
Cigars!? The women uniformly disapprove
One nephew leaps upon a garden seat
And jumps and yells until it falls apart
Their mother says her boy is cute and sweet
“Are you all right, my dear little heart?”
The brother-in-law holds his tummy and groans
And tells us all about his flatulence
And just which foods lead to what moans
(Perhaps he should practice some abstinence)
The women come outside to cough and choke
With practiced puritan disapproval and sneers
About the satanic scent of tobacco smoke
The world’s best mother chugs a few more beers
The brother-in-law explains why he can’t drink
It’s about his digestion (be surprised)
And we shouldn’t smoke; if only we’d think
And we (got a match?) are properly chastised
Then at the end of this mandatory day
Of mandatory Hallmark merriment
All of them finally go the (space) away
And how did the mailbox get broken and bent?
But the brother-in-law pauses at the garden gate
“Say, did I tell you about my new pills…?”
And so dear solitude again must wait
While darkness slowly falls upon the hills
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
Oh my god, what have you done to your hair
Please tell me you didn’t buy those clothes with the money I gave you
What happened to the you that I use to know?
Why are you doing these things to yourself?
What have you done to my baby girl.
And there we go: that right there is just it.
Your baby girl isn’t the correct terms anymore
Don’t you remember when I was little,
All the times I ran around looking like I did.
You can’t tell me that you thought I’d really grow out of that.
When I was just a wee kid I think deep down I knew, I was just unsure of what it meant.
When I was only in the fifth grade I had a girlfriend, but we didn’t really know that.
Love, and what does that truly mean?
Favoritism, lying, shame, broken- hearted, depression, think on all of that.
Do any of the above mean crap to you now?
I know I’m not the favorite kid you don’t have to fake it anymore.
Face this, we all know that I’m the unwanted, the black sheep, bah bah.
Although I will give you that you both help me out a lot.
What is the reasoning behind this you ask, but I shall not give you the answer you want.
The reasoning is for me to explain that who I am is who I will always be.
Maybe I’ll even improve on the person I know I am supposed to be.
I know it’s not either of your faults that I didn’t develop the right parts.
I would change the way I am if I could because no it’s not easy, trust me I hate it too.
It’s a chemical imbalance they say, something you can be born with.
Why am I sitting here pouring out my heart that I already have on my sleeve?
I have no reason to believe that anything could even matter at this point.
We all know I will be me and you will disapprove regardless.
You say you love me in which I do believe that you both do.
My only thing is I feel as if I’m just not what you wanted.
Hell I wasn’t even meant to be so maybe that’s why I’m the black sheep.
Baahh Baahh cried the poor baby sheep.
Wiping the tears of my face now, I’m sorry dad. I’m sorry, mom.
I didn’t mean for this to happen, I hope you don’t mind another son.
I know it’s going to be heart breaking and mostly against God as you always say.
I know life isn’t meant to be perfect maybe that’s why I’m cursed with this pain.
The fear of it all is so scary I wish I could truly change.
I hope you know this has nothing to do with my preference in which I’m with.
For that sake is another topic we shall not address for now.
With all this out on the table now, I say it’s time to eat, feast on it with however you want my dear parents.
To the final tale about how the baby girl became a grown man no one ever knew about.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
You hate my printed tees and high top shoes,
you disapprove that I still wear my toque in June.
Always saying that I ruin the plot too soon.
You don’t know your worth, you are my Earth
my sun and my moon.
It’s how you get my smile to touch my cheek,
and the way you get my knees feeling weak.
The ten things that you hate about me,
are outnumbered by the things you’re loving.
You hate my shark shorts even though they’re cozy,
you can look past it because you’re the only one who truly knows me.
I’m tripping on words, the ones you prefer
because you know I’m clumsy.
You say I’m too loud, or my head in a cloud,
but the way that I feel I’m always showing.
It’s the way that you look me right in my eyes,
and how you still manage to give me butterflies.
The ten things that you hate about me,
are outshined by the things you’re seeing.
You hate when my hair gets too long,
and when my cologne smells too strong.
You hate when I exaggerate during fights
and when I snore during late nights.
Just the way that our fingers interlace,
and how you get that look on your face.
The ten things that you hate about me,
are just quirks, you’re making it work,
as you still get to know me.
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 3:29 PM UTC
Everything thing you are about to read is the whole truth, and nothing but...
she flew
via jet blue,
da coop
decamped urban lands,
leaving poet producing this
piece de (at-the-door poem-de crap) resistance:
Sad mad bad
where I asked?
a mountain in Mexico,
where purpled pink wild flowers decorate,
and the yoga mat is never rolled up
and post pampering included!
harrumph,
and worse,
exclaimed
**NYC got florists
and yogi masters
for hire**
with my sisters,
will commune,
hike by dawn light,
eat veggies day and night
and bone my body
with exercise
**Manhattan got veggies, central parks,
and occasionally a pretty dawn,
bone doctors extraordinaire,
don't you know the best veggies,
grown in Whole Foods in the
Time Warner Center?
go then, leaving poet,
sad mad bad
to salve my soul,
know this!
I am eating
a tuna Swiss melt,
French Fries and ketchup,
Danish made with Danish cheese,
drinking my fatte latte.
This my stress,
so well expressed,
but baby, be advised,
I am doing it,
in our bed!
all day tv watching,
crushed neath an inconsolable need
to do all those spiritual things
of which you disapprove!**
you went down the long hallway
at 6am,
you thot you heard me say,
Leila, you got me on my knees!
what was said but this:
*Save me babe,
from doing as I please!*
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
"He's young now." I look into the mirror. "He'll grow on you."
"He's learning. Unwise in his few years, low in confidence."
I ponder..." Will he always be so...scrappy?"
Here stands a young man, looking in the mirror. Still baffled at the reflection he sees.
There goes a woman, his mother, still determined to have a youngest daughter.
People say "He's changing, look in the mirror...see for yourself."
What I see is a scared young man....
scared to live, scared to take up space, scared to make a sound in the noise of society's never ending chaos.
She's trying...she says. To understand. To support. To move on. She knows not her faults nor the effect her words have on you...she only knows that one day her daughter stopped wearing dresses, cut her hair, and left a life of pink and pageantry behind.
No, she doesn't know what she does, but she can see the light in your eyes began to dim when she calls you her little girl.
His father....slowly decaying, pushes the ideas of a son out of his mind. Refuses to see the beard and changing physique in front of him, clings desperately like a moth to a flame to his little girl who he swears never grew a day past the age of five.
Back when things were simple. Back when there wasn't so much **** change. Back when things mattered less about pronouns and more about peace of mind and reputation.
When I grow up, I want to be the change that I wish I saw in all of you. I want to embrace who I love with open arms, decide that I'd **** for the man I see in the mirror. Let all those who disapprove be ******
Because if I couldn't protect the light in that little girls eyes so many years ago, I'll be **** sure that the man I become is one who will protect mine.
Jul 26, 2023
Jul 26, 2023 at 8:05 PM UTC
I Know You're Not Proud, Is It Because I Did More Then You Allowed?
Why Do You Disapprove? Can't You See I Can Improve?
Why Are You Keen On Removing My Chapter?
What About The Memories We Could Capture?
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
The bible in my hand feels far too heavy.
I open to a random page, and realize that,
although it would make grandma happy,
I will never read it.
Still, when I sit down at the piano here,
I hear divinity in the music.
When I smoke **** on the hill outside,
and look up at the stars,
I feel the excitement, the awe, of being a tiny part of something
infinite.
So who is their God to disapprove?
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 1:51 PM UTC
You go for more or settle for less
Run after them or go at your own pace
You can climb higher and higher
You can always get what you want
None should tell you that you can't
If you can proceed, you shouldn't retire
You can soar higher than the sky
You can poke your limits in the eye
Ahead lies a wonderful reward
Go for it, focus on moving forward
You can change your little story
By constructing yourself greater glory
Navigate the icy unchattered waters
You can go beyond the definate borders
Nothing about their words matters
You can disapprove your doubters
You can hit the spot, if you truly aim
You can change the rules of the game
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 2:41 AM UTC
If the clouds went away,
far away from me,
they would continue
to rain on my parade.
Nobody should march to
the beat of someone else's drum;
I will always be a
disappointment to somebody.
They come they go-
the compliments and sacrifice.
How inconsistent
they always are.
How can I firmly
establish my identity,
when my identity
is what they disapprove of?
Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 10:06 AM UTC
it is cold, and you're walking, and you can't see your feet
you're numb
not just your face and hands
but everything
detached
unable to distinguish from emotions now
and emotions then
you're walking down the road
and the stars are shining
headlights flying past, rocking your body
threatening to pull you under and break you,
crush you and your mind
and everything else
you're walking down the road, and the moon is low and dark and the sky is otherwise empty
lets say that your eyes are closed
but the drivers eyes are also closed
in the car behind you
and you, perched precariously
toe the white line between death and a dirt road
everyone, it seems, is waiting
for something unknowable
a feeling
a thought
a pat on the back, signalling that everything's okay
everything's allright
it's just fine
go back to sleep
ignore the questioning looks and just
relax
the man in the tan trenchcoat is looking for you
his brothers, his family
disapprove, but
why not
you're not a bad person
after all
you've done bad things, yeah
made bad decisions, yeah
but overall
what's so bad about sleeping in hotels when the back of your car
is not as comfortable as it looks
so you're desperate
and he's desperate
and you keep missing each other
the looks and idle touches
while comforting
scare you
you are not a person who feels
so you cannot feel the stubble whispering over your skin
and you did not swallow openly
and stare across the tables as his blue eyes watch you
he doesn't judge you
and for that
you love him
wait.
no.
you don't love him
because that would be wrong, and decades of reinforcement are telling you this
but honestly
if he just loved you back...
there's that word again
the lights over the Arby's are hovering 100 feet above the ground
and you're freezing and alive
and maybe you wish you were dead
but you're not
and that's what really matters
probably
you hope.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
You are the one I wish I could love.
Flirtatious smiles, and laughs
Can never be anything above
the bond of friendship we have.
Others would disapprove in an instant.
Not only that,
But you always seem so distant.
Your feelings change at the drop of a hat.
Glances are caught,
this is anything but new.
Similar feelings? is what I thought.
But it's hard to tell with you.
One minute we're sitting, and laughing.
The next, we do anything to ignore the other.
This whole thing to me is baffling.
You will forever be, my almost lover.
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 9:32 PM UTC
People say sheltering your child is good.
No one can hurt them,
no one can bully them,
And It makes them feel loved, but it don't for me.
But no one thinks about the child, and how they feel.
I feel insane, alone, I get paranoid when I'm outside because I'm afraid you'll disapprove of me once more.
I always feel like I'm not enough, I always feel ashamed,
I always feel lonely,
I always feel blamed,
When I get taught that you'll never be enough,
I don't know,
But I know you'll never be proud of me,
That's for sure.
One day I will grow older and look back and say,
'I'm happy I'm older, I didn't want to stay.'
I'll be less paranoid, I'll be able to go outside without fear.
I'll be less sheltered from the horrible world I now have to now know,
But because of you, I don't expect anyone to **** me because I walk down an ally, I don't expect to get shot when I walk in on a drug deal.
They say sheltering children is good,
No one can hurt them,
No one can bully them,
And it makes them feel more loved, but it never did for me.
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
sometimes i wish i was alone.
completely and utterly alone.
i wish i didn't have to worry about anyone or anything.
i want to be in charge of my own life.
as awful as it might sound i dont want to have a family.
i want to do what i want, when i want.
it seems nice, ya know?
not having to worry or fend for anyone but yourself?
no need to worry about grades because your parents wont yell at you.
i could go wherever i wanted, whenever i wanted.
i have this dumb fantasy...
that one day i will be in a cafe, snow falling outside.
i would be sitting at a little table, drinking a cup of tea, reading a book.
and a cute boy will come up to me and we would just start talking.
no worries, no family, just us, no one else.
i know, its dumb, but its just my mind.
i guess id like to imagine that if i didn't have a family i could do all of this.
its just that sometimes the people we really love are the ones who hold us back the most.
and im tired of being held back, im tired of living my ordinary life.
i hate watching these tv shows because it makes me sad.
all of these people have such interesting lives.
being bit by a wolf, dating someone who your parents disapprove of, going off to magical lands where you never grow up, shrinking to the size of a mouse, fighting bad guys and saving mankind...
it just seems like a live a normal life.
nothing ever happens and i feel like its because of my family.
they hold me back and prevent me from having fun, or seeking out adventure.
i want to live the life i want to live.
so im going to do dumb things, make mistakes, read, write, drink, go to parties and live my life. because im sick of people telling my how to live my life.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC
Self Righteous indignation, separation, and a flare for othering
the man who strove to bridge the gap between himself and the world
made himself an island to be safe from the chaotic trade winds
Here, he felt, hell, he felt stronger than he was accustomed to
but this only tempered his approach
kept his destructive tendencies at bay
and filled his time
His ennui and his thirst for consequence
His self deprecation, his lust for power, his empathy unbidden
He knew of his own privilege, he knew other's pain was greater than his
He knew other's success, and had tasted glory in doses unsatisfying
He was meant to be satisfied with stagnation
and was tailored to disapprove of the play by play
but was forced to place bets on the rat race
and to have his mind occupied by symbolism
while he realized the cross was only two lines placed adjacently
He was forced to explain to his lover, what love means, and how to believe
What it meant, how it was, and why it was held in such high regard
He comforted an ailing cherub, watered her roots with his own excretions
For in appeasing her, he cut into himself
All he wanted was to be big enough, to cut himself down enough
that when he gave of himself, he could give what would have been his all
while still holding on to what could be all he was.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
Silver linings
Are dreams of clouds
Yet with a sliver of silver
We take to the skies
The angels ask us
To keep their silence
The price for our forbidden flight
But enamored by beauty
Befuddled by grace
we are forever chasing after
that which we wish were
A dozen glass roses
velvet lined stairs
Glass ballroom slippers
Pearls in our hair
Slivers of longing
Are what we have left
The angels disapprove
Silence is broken
The vow unfulfilled
A dozen gold roses
To pave all the stairs
and golden glass slippers
To match our hair
Silence lingers
We are struck blind
The angels turn their backs to us
The gates of heaven are closed
Not even the holiest of days
Will cleanse our souls
Goyim
Infidels
******
a dozen red roses
Line the graves to the stairs
They shattered our slippers
And tore out our hair
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 7:18 AM UTC
He is there to spill tears of happiness when his eyes fall upon his infant daughter. He is there with arms to catch her when she takes her first steps or stumbles. He is there to teach her at the youngest age, even though she might not understand half of it. He is there to help her color inside the lines, make her grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, and tie her shoes. He is there to hug her and kiss her on her first days of school, and to walk her in if need be. He is there to teach her and tease her and laugh with her. He is always there to embarrass her, but that’s part of life. He is there to tell her to go ask her mother, when her mother told her to ask him. He is there to lecture her, prepare her for the monster called high school. He is there to put up with her teenage moods and her co-ed relationships. He is there to approve, disapprove, accept and forgive. He is there to give her a big bundle of flowers when she graduates, to smile when her name is called and feel proud. He is there to embrace her and kiss her before she goes to live and learn a thousand miles away. He is there to see her become a workingwoman, to walk her down the aisle (or not, if her independence and stubbornness prevail after all). He is there to watch her grow as the lines on his face grow. He is there to welcome her home, always, and let her hug him and smell the smell she remembers from childhood, the warm, protecting, comforting smell of dad. But most of all, he is always there to love her. And she is always there to love him back.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
I was suprised to see Robin
appear at the onset of dawn.
Looked on at my withdrawn self,
tucked on my shelf,
whereupon I return his look.
With his wings, he made a gesture
pointing out, out and beyond to
fields in a vesture of green.
Never I had I seen such pastal pastures,
nor known them to be so near.
Robin started to sing
of spontaneous adventure,
away from my miscellaneous thoughts.
Extraneous in nature for they did discouraged
this possible venture.
In an act of defiance,
I went to move, and felt a strain
tightening around my brain.
Denying the laws of science,
the frightening shackels restraining me
and my plumed heart from taking flight.
I struggled against the chain, I wiggled until bruised
and blood and sweat covered my skin.
The sticky heat of desperation consumes me,
wishing someone smuggled the key in
and remove these chaotic chains.
"I can't move," I cried to Robin,
expecting him to disapprove.
"I'm not like you. I can't just go and do what I want,
it doesn't work like that."
Even though I wanted to go.
My soul longs for it, to be like the Robin
where its only goal is to go
faraway like a bird of prey, flying high
complying to no one, just like Maslow wanted.
The reclamation of self-realization.
Robin did not reply.
Robin did not leave.
Nor did he grieve for me.
He simply waited.
This wasn't a rue.
He was glued to me and thus
Proving the legends true; of how
he got the mark of Christ's blood upon himself.
For he waited in hope
'til the day when I can cleave the chains
and he'll supply the rope
and reeve the opening of my escape.
But that day is not today.
Today's untimely end neared
with the threat of an upset sunset,
warning Robin that he must retreat
to avoid being a prisioner of the dark.
Yet, before he left, he nodded,
as if tell me not to fret.
For he will be back at sunrise
His wise eyes conformed
him to be sans falseness.
And I prayed to empty skies that I was right.
From my spot, I watch Robin's flight,
as night fell with gravity, pushing the sun down
and for a split second it turned to a green jewel.
I smiled like fool at Joule's "last glimpse"
feeling the chains, ever so slightly, loosen.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
A fearful submissive creature
stares up at its captor with anxiety and admiration.
His ivory skin glistens like the first dews of spring,
His eyes are prudent and observant,
full of thought, but absent of any sign of compassion,
His hands neither taking nor giving.
As the ugly creature looks up at its captor,
aggrieved that it was not the hunter’s target,
he did not even want to capture it,
if anything, he probably regrets it.
All the poor creature can do is fear and pray,
fear that the hunter will set it loose again, never to meet again
and praying that he might be a kind master
to his pitiful but loving creature.
Perhaps even offer… kindness?
Will he listen to its stuttering words,
desperately trying to convey a desire for approval?
Will he willingly accept its dishonored form?
Its long disheveled hair?
its uneven skin?
its hideous and shameful body?
Will he sympathize with its silence,
its fear of rejection?
Regardless, its wishes to know what its master
thinks of it.
Does he disapprove of it?
Does he disdain it?
Does he merely not care about it?
Please show compassion, Dear Hunter,
it loves you.
It only wants to know whether or not
you care about it.
Apr 5, 2011
Apr 5, 2011 at 9:37 PM UTC
Putting her in front of anyone and everything
She promises love ever lasting but blink and then she's missing
Giving you the cold shoulder her mood swings only make you lust for her more
Find out her core she's not perfect, aborted before she could be reborn
Torn away before you want her to go, do some blow to help you cope but she will come back and show you its not just the snow outside that's causing your bad connection
Her complexion will send you in the wrong direction
She knows her imperfections hurt your reflection
Natural selection she is an infection in the section of you that no surgeon can remove
Parents disapprove and refuse that she is right for you thinking you can improve
Seduces you so you stay Knight in shinning armor you make her your bride so it's till death do you two part
Playing poker only to find that she holds more than your heart
She reminds you that's what behind you has designed you inclined to rewind to the unkind but you realize you have a blind spot for her
Unable to see your past without her in it any way you spin it there she is
Wake up from the car wreck only to see the way you spun it didn't turn out right
You try to fight to stay alive but
On your deathbed you lie and once again there she is, holding your hand in a tight clasp
You gasp as you grasp that all along she was the forecast
As you bask in the sun and dry up you look at her and she's more beautiful than ever
No light cast upon her could age her skin what so ever
Looking in her eyes you slowly begin to realize that because of death you two will part and your time is about to end
Spending your last few moments thinking about her wishing you could make amends for everything you've done wrong
You try to speak but she just says not to worry
Starting to cry she says she's sorry
Apologizing for the night you wanted freedom from her, she says she just couldn't bare to see you leave
Right as you close your eyes for the final time
She says you know we never would have met if it wasn't for your parents, see they gave you to me
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
I cannot do this.
I fear.
I fear repetition.
Repetition that I crave, yet also repulses me at the same time.
An internal battle between neurons and ventricles and atriums.
My chest burst open today when I recognized the face
under that mocked brim and,
for two moments,
the Doppler effect was just something scientists invented to make themselves feel better.
But it all came crashing down without
the connection of soul windows.
Blue? Brown?
Who remembers.
Remember is such a simply complicated word.
I fear the anger
and the holes in the wall
and the murderous screams.
and ripping church out of ears and heart and mind.
cause that hurts.
I fear November.
My best and worst two days in heaven.
And how badly I would...do...want that to happen again.
Next I fear the eyeless,
lipstick,
lover of hands.
The shallow one with a faux deep soul.
The hypocrite.
Her acid words that burn through screens.
They rip away the moment they penetrate my skin and touch my heart.
I fear her disapproval.
because she will disapprove,
this I know.
Silver tongue like the snake.
Venom pointed at me, her sister.
Betrayed.
So she will disapprove and that means much.
Then I fear giving half of my heart,
that is his,
away.
Well, it wouldn't be half, because is it still dipped deep in love.
So a sixteenth of my heart-his heart- and that is still much.
For us.
It is just a crush. and that is it.
But isn't that how everything starts?
Tender pressings on your heart until they become the pulses and beats and poundings and crushing sensations.
Once.
Once.
Only once that has happened to me.
Still is.
And even if it is unrequited,
I fear losing that.
I fear fearing.
I fear rejection.
I fear losing the one thing that I care about.
and I fear not finding something.
Or finding it to only lose it in a few months time.
So I will refrain.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
**** format
i'll place my words
wherever
i
want
how ever i want
and if you disapprove
go read
Shakespeare.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 8:42 PM UTC