"fuzzes" poems - Hello Poetry

A pretty new dress My pretty blue dress I laugh, she smiles I tease, she plays “Let’s wrestle” she says And jumps onto me I scream, I struggle Relentless, she seems Wrists pinned above my head My waste suppressed to the ground I wriggle out, I push her off She throws me down No, no please no As I climb away I strive for distance I battle for safety My best friend reaches for a pencil As she collapses over me, and jabs it inside Her hand grabs for my dress, my pretty blue dress And yanks it, burning my skin with its new thread Crying out, I hit her She laughs, she smiles I scream for help, calling to her father With no response Breaking free, I lunge for the door Only to trip, falling to the floor Straddled, she laughs She’s winning this match My buttons tear, uncovering my ******* My camera in her hand “Let’s show your boyfriend” She toys Suffocating under her obesity I haven’t the air to scream Tears leak from my eyes Lips quiver in shame Bored, she bounces, she thrusts Nearly cracking my hips My ribs crunch, my guts ache And I gasp for air My best friend grabs a marker She writes on my face As she bounces She writes on my face Asthma consumes me As I struggle for consciousness My mind fuzzes, and vision darkens I think to myself, “This is how I end” I never wore my blue dress again I never told of what she did I never spoke to her again I never I never I never My best friend.

0

Apr 7, 2013

Apr 7, 2013 at 2:30 PM UTC

carl-rose

My Best Friend

A pretty new dress My pretty blue dress I laugh, she smiles I tease, she plays “Let’s wrestle” she says And jumps onto me I scream, I struggle Relentless, she seems Wrists pinned above my head My waste suppressed to the ground I wriggle out, I push her off She throws me down No, no please no As I climb away I strive for distance I battle for safety My best friend reaches for a pencil As she collapses over me, and jabs it inside Her hand grabs for my dress, my pretty blue dress And yanks it, burning my skin with its new thread Crying out, I hit her She laughs, she smiles I scream for help, calling to her father With no response Breaking free, I lunge for the door Only to trip, falling to the floor Straddled, she laughs She’s winning this match My buttons tear, uncovering my ******* My camera in her hand “Let’s show your boyfriend” She toys Suffocating under her obesity I haven’t the air to scream Tears leak from my eyes Lips quiver in shame Bored, she bounces, she thrusts Nearly cracking my hips My ribs crunch, my guts ache And I gasp for air My best friend grabs a marker She writes on my face As she bounces She writes on my face Asthma consumes me As I struggle for consciousness My mind fuzzes, and vision darkens I think to myself, “This is how I end” I never wore my blue dress again I never told of what she did I never spoke to her again I never I never I never My best friend.

55

The slope of my eyelids fall, delicately dripping onto my cheekbones, powdered, ripe with a pink flush, matching the creamy pigment I smooth between my lips before a cacophony of laughter runs up my throat and out my mouth. My lashes, black, have been curled neatly in a spiral that follows my green irises, my gaze landing on your hands— but that’s not it. Just know, I am more than a pretty face. I am more than the picture you have in your head of the clothes peeling off my body like a cocoon—watch me morph— in the dead of your blackness, calling sweetness to the surface. I am more than this exaltation. I am more than the late night phone calls or the kisses on your cheek. I am in the breath you lost when I smiled, and I am in the scratches on your back, the fickle end of the lock you latched. I am in the noise that fuzzes in your head, the empty space haunting you in your bed. I am more than what you expected— but that’s not it. I am also the beat behind these words, the puddle that gathers from the spill on the floor. I am the mind that molds. I am the truth that finds. I am the beginning of every bitter end. I am more than a pretty face. I am the exhale at the end of the race. Here I am. I am the kind of hurt that’s still sore, and one day I am going to be so much more.

0

Sep 18, 2014

Sep 18, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC

sophie-herzing

My Pretty Face

The slope of my eyelids fall, delicately dripping onto my cheekbones, powdered, ripe with a pink flush, matching the creamy pigment I smooth between my lips before a cacophony of laughter runs up my throat and out my mouth. My lashes, black, have been curled neatly in a spiral that follows my green irises, my gaze landing on your hands— but that’s not it. Just know, I am more than a pretty face. I am more than the picture you have in your head of the clothes peeling off my body like a cocoon—watch me morph— in the dead of your blackness, calling sweetness to the surface. I am more than this exaltation. I am more than the late night phone calls or the kisses on your cheek. I am in the breath you lost when I smiled, and I am in the scratches on your back, the fickle end of the lock you latched. I am in the noise that fuzzes in your head, the empty space haunting you in your bed. I am more than what you expected— but that’s not it. I am also the beat behind these words, the puddle that gathers from the spill on the floor. I am the mind that molds. I am the truth that finds. I am the beginning of every bitter end. I am more than a pretty face. I am the exhale at the end of the race. Here I am. I am the kind of hurt that’s still sore, and one day I am going to be so much more.

32

Winter is a fraud to me I had no right to love her Yet when we come together she incites me As a child she kissed my frost nipped cheeks Made igloo tears and iced up fuzzes Then I caught sight of her with make up on her cheeks She warmed me through and was awe-inspiring Unbreakable and reassuring like an old friend We said our farewell for this day It seemed as though time scampered away She distressed me we had a quick chatter then we where on our way Chilled to my marrow she stayed in the air Becoming senseless at great lengths Beginning to distort my state of mind I'm brain sick The sun never seems to shine

0

Jun 27, 2019

Jun 27, 2019 at 10:28 PM UTC

flawless-contradictions-1

Frosted Fraud

Winter is a fraud to me I had no right to love her Yet when we come together she incites me As a child she kissed my frost nipped cheeks Made igloo tears and iced up fuzzes Then I caught sight of her with make up on her cheeks She warmed me through and was awe-inspiring Unbreakable and reassuring like an old friend We said our farewell for this day It seemed as though time scampered away She distressed me we had a quick chatter then we where on our way Chilled to my marrow she stayed in the air Becoming senseless at great lengths Beginning to distort my state of mind I'm brain sick The sun never seems to shine

16

an early Sunday mist of rain fuzzes the air a starling flies overhead

0

May 29, 2015

May 29, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC

dazmb

Still

an early Sunday mist of rain fuzzes the air a starling flies overhead

3

i remember the embers dying, the chest that felt the sting, the wound that kept on aching, the silence between rivers of thought; tempting to sing. it hums, it buzzes as my mind right there fuzzes--- blank--- black what the hell was that? everything turned gray then rainbows, then rain followed by a strong h u r r i c a n e i twirled, buzzed fiddled and dozed a lot more of nothing until it became everything the silence grew loud i wanted to get out its fingers--- no claws crawled, until there was jaws i screamed, but screaming was painful it burned me, until i was put out.

0

Feb 4, 2022

Feb 4, 2022 at 6:21 AM UTC

midnightwriter

the silence that killed a flame

i remember the embers dying, the chest that felt the sting, the wound that kept on aching, the silence between rivers of thought; tempting to sing. it hums, it buzzes as my mind right there fuzzes--- blank--- black what the hell was that? everything turned gray then rainbows, then rain followed by a strong h u r r i c a n e i twirled, buzzed fiddled and dozed a lot more of nothing until it became everything the silence grew loud i wanted to get out its fingers--- no claws crawled, until there was jaws i screamed, but screaming was painful it burned me, until i was put out.

22

when do you know he doesn't feel the same? you ask. it's when you have to constantly apologise for having feelings for him and having confessed to him. 'sorry. sorry. sorry. for making things awkward. for making things feel like a burden.' like a fcking mantra. while he doesn't reply at all. does it break your heart? you were happy when you confessed to him, but when you realised he doesn't feel the same, your heart sinks, like how the anchor firmly goes deep down into the sea, heavy. it's when, it should never have happened. you couldn't control your feelings. you wanted to express love to that piece of art you revere so much. you looked up to him. people say love or feelings of like feels magical and all. but maybe not, maybe you thought too much about it just like how you overthink about every single thing. you mind fuzzes, images of clocks crazily ticking away, an alice-in-the-wonderland rabbit appears as well (it was something you were afraid of, that anxiousness) like oh yeah, what did you expect from him, right? you just wanted to tell him how you feel. just when we were gonna be friends, i ruined it. and things just isn't meant to be i guess.

0

Apr 11, 2016

Apr 11, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC

elena-

you (me)

when do you know he doesn't feel the same? you ask. it's when you have to constantly apologise for having feelings for him and having confessed to him. 'sorry. sorry. sorry. for making things awkward. for making things feel like a burden.' like a fcking mantra. while he doesn't reply at all. does it break your heart? you were happy when you confessed to him, but when you realised he doesn't feel the same, your heart sinks, like how the anchor firmly goes deep down into the sea, heavy. it's when, it should never have happened. you couldn't control your feelings. you wanted to express love to that piece of art you revere so much. you looked up to him. people say love or feelings of like feels magical and all. but maybe not, maybe you thought too much about it just like how you overthink about every single thing. you mind fuzzes, images of clocks crazily ticking away, an alice-in-the-wonderland rabbit appears as well (it was something you were afraid of, that anxiousness) like oh yeah, what did you expect from him, right? you just wanted to tell him how you feel. just when we were gonna be friends, i ruined it. and things just isn't meant to be i guess.

9

I still catch your scent on things every so often. Isn't that dumb? But they're things that have nothing to do with you. Like my roommate. Or a complete stranger. Or this one corner of my desk. Not one of your old T shirts (because you never gave me one). I hate these strangers and desk corners for smelling like you. How dare they remind me of such euphoria? My nostrils fill with the scent of laundry, soap, cotton, and loyalty. ******* loyalty. My eyes flutter closed My brain fuzzes The corners of my mouth turn up slightly And I expect to see you in front of me And feel your flannel against my cheek And your dry, cracking fingers against my palms. But you aren't there. I get disoriented for a moment. I spritz. Sanitize. Breath deeply. Avoid that stupid desk corner Because I'm sick of being reminded that I'm still in love with you.

0

Aug 15, 2014

Aug 15, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC

sass-v

Dumb Desk Corner

I still catch your scent on things every so often. Isn't that dumb? But they're things that have nothing to do with you. Like my roommate. Or a complete stranger. Or this one corner of my desk. Not one of your old T shirts (because you never gave me one). I hate these strangers and desk corners for smelling like you. How dare they remind me of such euphoria? My nostrils fill with the scent of laundry, soap, cotton, and loyalty. ******* loyalty. My eyes flutter closed My brain fuzzes The corners of my mouth turn up slightly And I expect to see you in front of me And feel your flannel against my cheek And your dry, cracking fingers against my palms. But you aren't there. I get disoriented for a moment. I spritz. Sanitize. Breath deeply. Avoid that stupid desk corner Because I'm sick of being reminded that I'm still in love with you.

23

Mind fuzzes Vision blurs Crimson pools Screams echo Life ends.

0

Jun 7, 2015

Jun 7, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC

chloe123x

Death

Mind fuzzes Vision blurs Crimson pools Screams echo Life ends.

5

The weedy wanderer searches for his tricks: They hide among the flowerbeds And in behind the gutters Cleaning out the filth Of the lucky master's overwhelming testimonies Testimonies of love and hate: They explore the times people were participating, Clinging to the tufts of an imaginary carpet man, Exploring in sondor-ous glee and enthusiasm. There are oceans in this room, swelling, They fill me up and soak me; I'm still dry Yet I am drowned in these waves of apathy. Screams and whispers echo my body With cries and laughter, Fill this empty room Swivel sideways, A new perspective, All turned on its head All diagonal tribute Spinning, cycling through I. can. not. grasp. anything. Flatten my palm. Let it go. A dandelion clock floating on the wind Swirling and dancing In spite of stifling cross breezes Muttering discordant harmonies Rhyming melodies, unfinished senta... The night fuzzes now Soft Comforting Full of warmth Dribbling from the mouth of hope Who will speak to me in the darkness? Or will the light speak to me?

0

Oct 9, 2014

Oct 9, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC

TuesdayPixie

Collab poem with friends

The weedy wanderer searches for his tricks: They hide among the flowerbeds And in behind the gutters Cleaning out the filth Of the lucky master's overwhelming testimonies Testimonies of love and hate: They explore the times people were participating, Clinging to the tufts of an imaginary carpet man, Exploring in sondor-ous glee and enthusiasm. There are oceans in this room, swelling, They fill me up and soak me; I'm still dry Yet I am drowned in these waves of apathy. Screams and whispers echo my body With cries and laughter, Fill this empty room Swivel sideways, A new perspective, All turned on its head All diagonal tribute Spinning, cycling through I. can. not. grasp. anything. Flatten my palm. Let it go. A dandelion clock floating on the wind Swirling and dancing In spite of stifling cross breezes Muttering discordant harmonies Rhyming melodies, unfinished senta... The night fuzzes now Soft Comforting Full of warmth Dribbling from the mouth of hope Who will speak to me in the darkness? Or will the light speak to me?

36

Slow as a growl Go some verses from a folio, Like little frogs in dozens wake up on a lily pad, And I'm singing them inside. Cloaked is an owl, Toads converse as roams an embryo Like fiddle logs and cousins make up on a silly path, And I'm singing on a ride. Float does the vowel, Go some verses from a folio Like tittles fog in fuzzes flakes up on an ill leafed pad, And I'm reading them with pride! Slow as a growl Go some verses from a folio, Like little frogs and cousins make upon a lilly pad, And I'm reading on a side.

0

May 28, 2022

May 28, 2022 at 9:10 AM UTC

Reuben_F

Book Spreads

Slow as a growl Go some verses from a folio, Like little frogs in dozens wake up on a lily pad, And I'm singing them inside. Cloaked is an owl, Toads converse as roams an embryo Like fiddle logs and cousins make up on a silly path, And I'm singing on a ride. Float does the vowel, Go some verses from a folio Like tittles fog in fuzzes flakes up on an ill leafed pad, And I'm reading them with pride! Slow as a growl Go some verses from a folio, Like little frogs and cousins make upon a lilly pad, And I'm reading on a side.

16

I am so tired of the static of radio silence. It fuzzes And flickers behind my eyelids It makes my eyelashes twitch uncomfortably, As I wait for the inevitable SHWAAAAA Of feedback. Of the tv static of channels nonexistent, At least, in our timeline. You never know just how heavy radio silence is until you struggle to pick up the phone..

0

Oct 10, 2025

Oct 10, 2025 at 3:15 AM UTC

Ephemeral_Oblivion

FM98.9

I am so tired of the static of radio silence. It fuzzes And flickers behind my eyelids It makes my eyelashes twitch uncomfortably, As I wait for the inevitable SHWAAAAA Of feedback. Of the tv static of channels nonexistent, At least, in our timeline. You never know just how heavy radio silence is until you struggle to pick up the phone..

10