"plushie" poems
dark sky
green tea
go to bed
and think of me
soft hair
like plushie fur
skinned knees
full of dirt
hair pins
and winter chill
watching the moon
climb over the hill
i feel safe
when i'm with you
please don't leave
like the others do
Nov 17, 2021
Nov 17, 2021 at 2:24 PM UTC
i don’t want us
to be anything.
but sometimes i wonder
if i crossed your mind
the way you drift through mine.
why else would you give me
your plushie crocodile —
just in case
i miss you
while you’re away?
we’ve been spending
so much time together.
you keep finding ways
back into my head.
we’re not going to be a thing.
you told me.
i told you.
we shouldn’t work.
but baby —
we do.
Aug 14, 2025
Aug 14, 2025 at 12:30 PM UTC
I wish I could tell you that after we texted last night, I cried for the fear that I might lose you.
I wish I could tell you that I still think about you all the time. And I often hope that you could be more in my life.
I wish I could tell you that I dreamt about you last night.
We made love like we did the first time; On the floor of your bedroom because your plushie collection took up the space on your bed... I didn't mind. I could smell you in my sleep and it made me so happy.
I wish I could tell you that I love you too... And more than just a friend.
I wish I could tell you that I want to kiss you...
That I want to hold you...
That I want to love you like you deserve to be kissed, held, and loved.
I wish I could tell you that I wrote this about you.
But I can't.
Because it might **** you.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
I took out my heart, piece by piece
from the bin and you stuck it back
fractured, cello taped, but back in one piece
And I wore it carefully on my sleeve for
them to see you were there for me.
Then it became toxic, what was cute turned into
poison. You grew sick. And I frantically
annoyed you harder, desperate
not to show what fear was driving me.
My naivety, my vain, my egos and my tears
I didn't know whether you liked them
Probably not,
Probably I promised too much to be kept up
All I know is I wouldn't show them to anyone
else, I put a wall for everyone but you to find out
I was a child and you were the plushie
ripped from me, then apart.
I was your Kitty but I am a stray cat without
a home. How can you be a stray cat with all
your diamonds and pearls? They ask.
YSL Black ***** Tiffany Collars. Cartier Bracelets.
I would give them all up.
A kitty will always be a stray cat, when without your love as her armor.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 7:00 PM UTC
i have not touched your skin and you have not touched mine,
i haven't felt your warm breath on my skin, on my lips, and you have not felt mine,
i do not know what you smell like, except for the bunny plushie you shipped to me, and you still have yet to smell my fragrance.
i love you though, and you love me. i love you more than i have ever found myself to love someone, and we have dated, yet this love i have for you, can not be bounded by the love someone feels for their significant other,
you are not my girlfriend
you are not my best friend
you are not my wife
you are not my soulmate.
you are my everything, you are the reason i continue breathing, you are the sounds when everything goes silent, you are the pleasant cozy scents when everything is rancid, you are the glimmering sparkle in a sea of darkness.
i am glad that in all the alternate universes there are, i am living the one where i met you and we are closer than a married couple, than twin sisters, than a mother and daughter. we are closer than the human vocabulary can explain.
i could go on for hours about how much you have impacted my life and how i'm so satisfied with you being in it.
and sometimes i still get sad when i think about how there are alternate universes where i don't meet you, or i don't become friends with you, or i even hate you. but those universes are ******* out by this one, and the other ones where we are close, ones where we are still dating, ones where we live right next to each other.
you are the most important person in the world to me, and we have a love that is so much stronger than anything i've ever felt before, ever seen before, or ever even read described before.
i.
love.
you.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 9:53 PM UTC
They call me heart breaker
But you will never know
How my heart flipped, footsteps shaking
When I saw your back
Roses. Monograms. Black Umbrella.
Warming my hands on rain-washed streets
Canal lined with silver
Cosy bistrot, and how you lit my soul up
They say my heart is broken and gone
But you will never know
How long I wanted it to last
Luscious, wanton, bodies entwined
Chest against cheek, your heart beat fast
Burying my blush in your plushie
Grinning from the bottom of my heart
They say I am cold and merciless
But you will never know
How a girl with a brain as cool as ice
Red lips. Feline eyes. Velvet dress.
But I skipped all the lords and Barons
and accidentally left the rest of my life
tucked in a condo, me in your arms
on a cold January night
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
It's been a bad day
My eyes are tired and my limbs are heavy
Slowly, my mind begins to go backwards, as though travelling through time
From my body's age downward into a toddler
Tears well in my eyes as I sink to my bed, hugging a plushie close to my chest
Pacifier clutched in my lips
Right now, I'm not a teenager or a child
I'm nearly a baby
This is my escape
Dec 11, 2019
Dec 11, 2019 at 9:22 AM UTC
Arm trembling no longer holding up.
Spasms.
Pain.
Feverish commotion moved unsatedly. Longing already before their departure from the knowledge of it to come.
Anguish in sorrow of sobbing
and self-quenching.
Two hearts’ Life has been made, disgustingly ripped away
and then at all costs retrieved
through the cold,
shame
and flame of ashes.
A chain memory
gaining its voice,
shaping into separate mind
and place.
I’m in torenness.
‘ve been through a lifetime and act,
never allowed to come back again
to the same (whirl of trepidations
and convulsions).
I tamed yet another fox
and have to deal with the tears
of the ends.
Tear away someone else’s presence
from me
and so shall be no difference.
I’m in hurt as in loss.
Losing a precious to me
foreign presence
will feel even greater
or have I just lost one,
with a piece of myself
alongside?
The binding isn’t locking away
one’s memory for a story,
it is giving them a person
called “Story”
and stealing their porcelain pieces
with its charm and frazzleness.
That’s why I account Literature
into sacralities
of my astrality
and perfect chosen arts of being.
Their non-verbal is
my most cherished music there is
as in Phronemophilia
or feelings,
a form of incalescence and confession made between a pair of words,
plucking the perfect chord
of comprehension
and Heart’s painfully sweet thrillance
and, between the verses,
speaking the ideal maternal language
not yet known to Mind.
As a Book contains all millions
of little aspects of moments,
words,
flesh,
tiny traits,
demeanour,
beginnings
and endings
and middles,
as it throws a wave after wave
of conundrums
of alchemy of emotions,
of all the unnameable things
of acting/being/breathing/affecting…
it is a Person.
One of many supposedly
not ones in Me.
Sorry, plushie dearies,
it will be the faux-Victorian tale
of volumes and affection
tucked close to my chest
tonight,
you rest next,
aside me.
Спокоиней ночи,
всё кто живет во мне и не.
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 7:46 PM UTC