Montana Aug 2012
I'll fuck you,
If you want.
Cause I want it
Just as bad as you do.
But I also want to hear the rustle of the sheets
When you turn over in the middle of the night.
I want to feel your hot breath on my neck.
I want the stubble on your chin to graze my cheek
As you kiss me gently on the forehead.
And when I whisper "goodnight," you don't have to reply.
Just nudge me with your knee
Or poke me with your elbow.
8/13/12
Austin Heath Jul 2014
Getting ready to play a video game
in a nice, not-actually-dusty-but-
has-the-comfort-of-dustiness-like
Booksto­re.
Maybe.
"Townhall free wifi."
That's just great. I mostly
just cry and complain and wonder
why dolphins are so optimistic as
to not just off themselves,
since they can consciously do so.
Free wifi though.
I mean, that's just cool.
chrissy who Nov 2012
She struts through her town
Chin up
Hair down.
Trying to hide
Her skinned knees.
She doesn’t want the world to see
The only evidence she bears
Of when she finally fell.
Tripped, stumbled, whatever you want to call it.
She could hold herself up no more.
Gravity overcame her
Truth overcame her
Life overcame her.
Her back bent
Her knees buckled
She tried to scream
But no sound came out.
Her one moment of weakness
Left her with scars
Unseen
And bloody knees.
How do you come back from a fall like that?
She built herself up for years
Like a mountain ever growing,
A trophy never rusting.
She shined her shoes,
She brushed her hair
She straightened her blouse
Every day
Trying with all her might
To maintain her image
Of perfection.
She should’ve realized sooner
No one is perfect.
Not a one of us
Not Ghandi
Not Martin Luther King
Not Eleanor Roosevelt
Not even Dr. Suess.
They weren’t perfect
So why was she?
Who is she, that gets to achieve the dream
That the majority of people are treading water just to get a glance of?
A better question would be
Why did she get to do such a good job
Of hiding her imperfection.
She walked everywhere with a bottle inside
Holding everything in
Nice and tucked away
Like a child at bedtime
Hidden
Safe and snug
Where no one could see it.
She pulled it out only in the wee hours of the morning
While sitting by herself
At the top of her mountain
Where she sat
And wept
Silently.
When the rays of dawn would peep over the distant horizon,
She would wrap the vial up
And swallow it again
Down into the depths of her soul
To remain hidden
To keep her secrets safe
To keep herself upright and a-okay in everyone else’s sight.
This went on
And on
And on.
Until one night
When the moon shone bright
And the stars and constellations shone around her head.
She went to examine the newly expanded contents of her secret container
When she realized the stars weren’t shining solely on her soft
Perfectly parted hair.
Someone else was there with her
But it was too late to put the ampoule away
It was already out, see
And in plain sight.
She fumbled,
Caught off guard, she dropped her flask.
She jumped to catch it but it was already rolling
She chased it.
Down the mountain they went
A bottle
And a girl
Moving in tandem
One no faster then the other.
She tried to slow herself down as they approached the base
But it was too late
The momentum was too great
She tumbled headfirst
Her knees hit the ground
At this speed
Grass feels like concrete.
Green stains on her elbows,
Blood on her knees.
Water marks down her cheeks.
The higher you build yourself up
The longer you have to fall
As she discovered the night the constellations revealed her façade to another.
No one’s perfect
No matter what they seem
You never know
Who, at nightfall, screams.
This young girl learned her lesson
It’s better not to hide
And now she struts around
Showing skinned knees
With pride.
Ira Dawson May 2014
You’re the bee’s knees between my knees.
Sweet as nectar,
Tart like blood.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing
Shopping for sheep,
Shopping for mercy,
Shopping for me.

To the naked eye
You’re just fine
But to the naked touch
Your skins too rough.
Your eyes too beady.
You’ve lost your touch.
The lone wolf in sheep’s clothing,
Doing his bidding.
Renji Jun 2014
They say gravity is a harsh mistress,
It's a force of nature that brings us to our knees, But yet we still appreciate it as if there was no life without it...

Much like many other things in life
Arsène Jul 2014
Summer air
Slight breeze
I feel her angst
Amongst my knees

As I free  
Within my trees
So enveloped I become
with ease

But still remains
a simple disbelief
She had gone back
to Lebanese
she is symbolic
I feel this big void in my chest
The constant urge for tears to go crashing down my face
Why must you do this
You are the reason for many things
You ghost still lingers in my heart
I can feel you in my soul
You''ve made me small
You cut me at the knees
I don't stand so tall anymore
The constant over thinking
How can this be life
I can't tell no one
So you can't tell anyone
How my heart is falling apart
It's been patched up with tape and glue
But it's not holding anymore
You cut me at the knees
Can't you see I'm slowly slipping away
I'm not the same person
I don't think they notice.. my friends
My urge to break you the way you broke me grows exceedingly
You cut me so deep
You cut me at the knees
eequivocal Mar 2014
i am the right knee
that steps first
and hits gravel
embracing the brute pain
our world has acclimated us to
because they said injury is

inevitable

while you are the left
that although remains flawless
from lack of exposure
heals
slower
and is categorized with

the weak

                                             we belong to the same body
Tessa F Aug 2013
You are a part of my heart
That cliche fact is a given
But you are also a part of my knees.
You catch me as I fall to the floor
You hold me steady as I search up in the sky
You withstand the scrapes and the bruises
And I hug you up against my chest when I'm sad.
I never used to like my knees
All scarred and knobbly and in the way
But as your eyes drag over me
Inch by inch
And I try to see myself the way you do
Inch by inch
Every part of me that has been so gently touched by your fingers
Becomes a piece of artwork.
And because of you, my dear,
My old and worn out knees
Are a picture frame window into my heart
You dusted out so kindly
That I can't help but cry.
Dita Von Teese
Was very smitten
With what had been written
About her knees -

Being a Sex kitten
Is something
I'm at ease with.

I'm truly elated
I have knees that please.
I wish I was a little boy again, because skinned knees are easier to fix than a broken heart
My friend Ashton wrote this on Facebook and I liked it so I decided to share it :)
Yazi Feb 2014
i wonder about the gathered pressure behind your teeth at 2am
Remember when we would gather by the church behind your house and joke about the god everyone foolishly admired
You always questioned why no one praised you
And you loved it whenever girls kneeled down for you
I started to fear you in 7th grade
And you liked that
You were greater than the man nailed to the cross
You had all the attributes and then some
But the pressure behind your teeth must have a sole cause
Was it because  
The girls wouldn't get on their knees for you anymore
They were scraped and bloody from your unfinished, carpet less basement
And did their heads hurt from your fluorescent lights
Were your hands too rough one day
Did they do something wrong
To cause your sudden outbreak
Because the fear people felt for you was no longer innocent
It was twisted and malevolent like your intestines
I bet you wanted to rip mine out
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