"poking" poems
Technology, Technology
It runs our lives
From the alarm to the evening TV
Just count your sheep
in the hopes of a six hour sleep
Dragging, pushing, poking and grinding
All for what? A day where we swing away?
Reminise and rewind our lives gone astray
All our friends are easily connected
So why do we feel so alone
Looking for love on a computer screen
We’re all ******* with the naturalist gene
Nature’s monitored via tv screens
With copious numbers of LCD’s, CD’s, Mp3’s to sail the seas
Heaven forbid the ******** sneeze
That’s technology you can’t see.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC
Run Run Run
the Easter bunny's ******
he looking for them little kiddles
hungry the easter bunny was thirsty for flesh
and kid sweat
Run Run Run
Run Forest run said snoop dog as he was smoking and poking
them little loki's
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
She was a wild flower
In a skyscraper forest
Poking her sun fire petals out
Through cracks in the cement
Climbing the buildings until she could
Freely drink the sunlight
And oh how she grew
Like a wildflower
In a skyscraper forest
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
Poking fun at my
Insecurities will pop
My helium heart
Like a balloon; I
Can only take so much, I
Have bursted open
The pressure killed
Me-
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
passion
thirst
hurt
ephemeral
physical
cold heat
hunger
water walking
brutally real
physical
skin colors
words spontaneous
devious planned
desire desired,
physical
concrete
parchment thin
muscled strong
catch a caught
physical
making
creating
cresting
cannot live without
physical
electric
shocking
eclectic
varied
realized
why? stop here?
eyed
fingered
tongue tasted,
ear sensual
dreamt
famous
buried
tragic
comedic
gaming played
unsafe
at any
speed
languorous
fire immolating
physical chest pains,
incurable
incumbent
to possess
otherwise, death
fingernails poking
knuckle kissing
lips wetting
blood exchanging
oh yeah physical
foreign native
young old
permanently temporary
infinitely finite
definitely unending
nowhere
no expression
dying dreams
best better
agonizing
agonizing
unrequited
offer everything
receive shoulder
colder than hell
defensive
offensive
cape laid
walk on me
chivalry
until we hold each others fingers knotted
until I stroke your hair unexpectedly,
until we agree to hell with all the rest
until we say the say the same thing simultaneously
until we come together
when we have satisfied each and every one of the above,
freely confess
know nothing of love
but the picayune details that make us greater
greater than greater, greatest, then and only then
we, might have a few clues
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 9:47 AM UTC
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I feel the scratch
of the itchy cotton gown
on the narrows of my back
as it climbs up and down
Displayed I lye on the medical tables hard cold steel
It seers into the crevices of my bones
I ponder the lone window and wonder if it's real
I listen for the bleep and bloop of medical tones
Nurses walk by in a mechanical grace
poke and **** & tap and touch my face
and then proceed to leave without a trace
with no hint of knowledge of my medical case
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I'm a big girl, I'm a big girl
I begin to chant in a simple rhythm
as small as a ball I begin to curl
I'm abandoned inside this glassy prism
The dead silence creeps inside my brain
I want to scream to fill the deadly gap
but the cold thick air of silence brings pain
I comfort myself and say it will be ok
My breathing begins to quicken
my eyes dart around the room
only comfort is the fear which I am stricken
my sight goes bleary as darkness looms
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Tears sting the corner of my eyes
I want someone to hold my hand
Oh God how I want to cry
but the only thing there is the bleeding arm band
The test begins with the thickness of barium
It slides down my throat and clings to my esophagus
It tastes like chalk and pandemonium
they want me to suffocate I guess
I chug and chug as the pictures are snapped
x-ray upon x-ray of my stomach and my back
Drink more Drink more They tell me to do
Nervously I shake and say, anymore and I will puke on you
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Even more poking and prodding ensues
but of my stomach, ribs and *******
I lay rigid as a board from the pain of each touch
I grow weary of this tiresome rues
The tests are done
and the coast is clear
I am left alone
to dress myself in fear
Dismissed and discharged to walk away
they file my chart with a robotic smile
now for the wait of endless days
I'm lost in my mind's land of emotional exile
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Pins & Needles Pins & Needles
I wait for the results
Is it stomach cancer, an ulcer or both??
In the dark I am kept like followers in cults.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
You want ****** well here I ***
I'll be the trigger to make those ***** juices run
**** with your lips I wanna eat you like a peach
Take you to Hawaii and **** you on the beach
Friction from my licking up and down your ****
Hand full of **** as you grab my ****
My **** starts leaking lusting for your ***** fire
Sixty nine every time let me lick your desire
Exploring every inch of your body and skin
Oops I missed a spot let me do it again
Juices are a flowing I love how you taste
Suction sporadic as my **** enters your face
Bodies in sync I'm feeling all your lust
Making you *** with my tongue is always a must
Your ***** my playground watch me swing
You can play too, here play on my ding a ling
Pulling your hair while I nibble on your neck
As I position your ***** umm so wet
My **** on your **** up and down sideways rubbing you
Begging to be entered, so I do, now I'm ******* you
***** gripping my **** doesn't want to let it go
As we play tug of war in and out your ***** hole
Deep inside you I'm feeling your ***** walls
As I ****** in and out you feel my flapping *****
Finding your G spot oh there it is
Your ***** bubbles up and begins to fizz
Pounding on your ***** turn you around like a dog
*** up in the air ******* you into a fog
My poking keeps stroking as you *** on my ****
Writhing up and down bouncing on my stick
Intertwined in our minds ******* at the same time
Staring in each others eyes while our pleasure climbs
Taboo sextasy with you I'll commit every sin
When we are done turn around and do it again..
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
The rat smells the air, squeaks in alarm and runs off.
Black boots come into view. With the sharp tip of a sword.
I crouch in the dark, behind the bins of *******
The boots walk on by. The sword, poking into corners.
All the while, eyes of glowing red, within deep sockets
of a musty old skull, scan for signs.
I look at my hands. The festered and rotting flesh.
My bones showing through. The stench unbearable.
Glad my nose fell off last night.
The timing was off. It was just a little sneeze.
PLOP! Right in my gruel.
Every one at school laughed.
Skeleton Puberty *****
And now, Dad is mad. Just cause I waxed the hearse
and didn't use "Ear Wax". You could hear him rattle
all day. What's wrong with the "Toe Jam Wax"?
Wait till I catch sis. She went and showed mom my
mags. "Raw! Boo To The Bones". I'll bet dad had
mags like these when he was a teenager.
They have good stories. The pics are just a bone-us.
I think it's safe now. I'll just sneak into the house.
Just sit and look innocent.
How did you find me?
A whole trail of pieces? Sheesh!
I know. I'm grounded. Not for the wax job?
The Mags!?.
Skeleton puberty *****
My Halloween offering for Oct. 12th
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
i acted cool.
You know, like how they do it on TV.
27 floors up,
your door was unlocked.
i didn't take my shoes off,
that way you could see the bad *** i really am,
deep down.
You know, you told me you loved me.
That's why I came.
i believed you.
Oh, how naive of you, i think back now.
I sat on your beat-down chair,
while you sprawled out on the floor-level couch.
I was terrified,
but the kids on TV are never scared.
He said he loved you.
No one else has ever felt that way before.
He loves you, kid.
You can do it.
Come cuddle on the couch?
Meh, maybe if i feel like it later.
Play. It. Cool.
i slide unto the foot of your sex-stained sofa.
i can feel your feet shaking behind my back,
your toes teasing my sides,
poking in and out between my ribs.
i know what you want,
and i want it too.
Keep. It. Cool. Kid. Keep it Cool.
i feel my hands slip out of your tight grasp,
my fingers inching their way up your leg,
following the dips of your pelvic bone.
What is happening?
The taste of you is so foreign to me.
i've never known the sweetness of another human being.
Let's go to your room?
Kid, it's just like on TV.
Okay, yeah, i guess if you really want to.
i didn't want to take my clothes off.
The world was spinning,
i was seeing and feeling things i didn't know to exist.
What is happening?
i love you.
i love you, i love you.
it's all over,
i leave.
27 floors of shame.
not only don't you love me,
you don't talk to me.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:22 PM UTC
Neatly coating the floor in thin white trails, woven into floorboards like cotton twine, sunbeams snake their way across hardwood.
Books scream to be read & my yellowed pages ache to detail my experience as a widowed reader of time.
Magazines pile, while my simple hands grow a day older.
Heat on my neck.
The driver of time exhales grandiose,
tells me to travel while I'm young,
visit regions on this globe that grow green with age,
listen to honest trumpets before I gray,
wade in pools of clear urgency.
He said:
"Find a walking stick out beyond the ether
laugh with veracity, poking fun at Saturn & the Stars."
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 1:20 AM UTC
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
"fight my disability"
we were never at war with one another
like me, it just wants to exist
and so i let it
to some extent
i’ll never “become my disability”
yet i don’t believe it’s a bad thing either
i’ve come to realise that he’s become a part of me
as he’s helped shape my thinking
and maybe even my personality a little bit
i owe all my stubbornness to him
nah
i don’t fight my disability
we’re bffs
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
"get up every day"
though for a while, i thought it was
getting up is easy
facing the world?
getting easier
i used to blush at the thought of getting a wheelchair
i’d bury my face in my knees and cover my ears with my hands, thinking that if i couldn’t see it or hear it, i wouldn’t need it
i cared too much of what society would see me as
not “normal teenage girl”
"sad confined possibly a teenage girl?"
normal is overrated
and to be honest?
so is society
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
pretending i’m okay with mainstreaming
dear teachers, “mainstreaming” was never in my vocabulary
pretending?
pfft dear teachers, this is 100% real contentment
IEPs got some getting used to but after 16 years of endless doctors appointments, people in white sterile coats, plastic latex gloves poking, prodding demanding things of me
"mainstreaming"
won’t ever exist in my vocabulary
i know i’m smart
and i know i can do it
so don’t you DARE cry at my graduation
it’d be pretty pathetic if i believed in myself more than you do
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is
accepting the realities
i don’t know when i’ll take my last step
i don’t know when my muscles will give out for good
i know that every day i won’t know what’s right in front of me
i know that i’ll never be able to run another mile in my life
and i know that i won’t ever stop dreaming about the things i wish i could do
would love to do
won’t ever do
might do
one day
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
my skeleton never liked me
very much. it cracks in unusual
places, ribcage poking out of its
skin prison, the frailty of it
breaking beneath the musical
whispers of the wind through hollow
spaces. i see
light bursting beneath the flash
of a camera and my skin
incinerates - do not look do not touch
do not look - and the charcoal in
my lungs is set on fire. i wake up
with ash beneath my tongue
far too often. my skin
despises me now that i have
bruises in places no one could
kiss better. there's this scar above
my right knee, which dislocates when
my life falls out of its socket, and it
reopens and blood pours from the
renewed wound too often. i think
i have a body that likes to believe it is dying.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
i bought a cactus
the summer of my
eighteenth birthday
i picked it up from
the local nursery and
cradled it all the way to
my car so that it wouldn't
fall to the concrete
i had only just met the little guy
and i didn't want to lose him the
day i finally got him
it is quite stupid to buy and
name a cactus but
i felt very attached to the small
succulent that occupied the
left corner of my bedside table
it was a cute little cactus with
orange on his top and a long
green stalk with spikes poking out
i felt pretty satisfied because
even looking at this plant
made me smile
taking care of this cactus
gave me something to do
and it kept my mind off of you
for a while
maybe i connected with this plant
maybe i felt like i was the plant
i sure do feel like the plant
trapped
growing
pokey
all adjectives aside i still
am very much addicted to
caring for my little cactus
if it lasts through the summer
then maybe
i can too
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
I wear a jacket almost ever day
To hide the little bit
Of my stomach poking out
I notice flat tummies
So I cross my arms over mine
I usually put my hair in my face
So people won't notice my dorky glasses
Sometimes I try to go without them
But its hard to see and read things
I wear a lot of makeup
As an attempt to hide the imperfections of my face
I don't like going without it because
I feel people always stare
I know everyone has things
They don't like about themselves
And you may think differently
But if you try and tell me
I end up not believing you
I think you're just lying to me
So I'll feel better about myself
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
Found myself at a dental clinic...
He was the best there was.
Unorthodox and eccentric,
But to the specialised craft, he was boss.
Ran through the bits and bobs
Like any normally would.
The poking and prodding and the mandible X-rays.
Everything cold and clinical, so was the mood.
Strange was what happened next...
Specialist and I then stood facing each other.
He leaned close and pressed his palms against my rib cage.
Held them there over a few breaths before it was over.
Then a brief chat, small talk initiated by the man.
Bespectacled and exceedingly chatty, small in stature.
Talks of politics and odd human behaviours...
What started off as friendly turned into a heated banter.
I then realised that along with his decorated credentials,
Was his propensity to be condescending and arrogant.
Him being the best, I thought I could let it all slide,
But soon enough I opted out of being a willing participant.
Couldn't stand his abrasive cockiness!
I snapped out of being cordial and passive thought.
I wanted him to just stop talking!
I went, "Well, are you going to fix my teeth or not?!"
He was stunned momentarily...
I suppose he hadn't seen that coming.
Then his features softened to a blank
I could almost read the unspoken words he was conjuring.
With an exasperated sigh of resignation,
He uttered his next words swollen with regret
"There's no need...for you only have four years left."
It dawned upon me that my timer has been set.
And then I woke up...
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
See how this Trodden Commoner invites
With his Self cheers the Hero on the Board
As he predicts his proven Time and Sights
Another Inscrutable Win absorb
So much so it becomes the Nation's Theme
With Married Saints you dear Prince do us Proud
Even if your Light condenses to meme
At least those close to you will share your Cloud
I would only wish for your Halo's Morn
That a Wee Signature you could offer,
Poking your eyes from Dimensions and Form
And just see the Heart which knows no other.
Yes, I know. Seven-by-Ten Digits speak same
Most by Tradition. By nature are Dames.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whit-
man, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees
with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images,
I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of
your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole fam-
ilies shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives
in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you,
Garcнa Lorca, what were you doing down by the
watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old
grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator
and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed
the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my
Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of
cans following you, and followed in my imagination
by the store detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in
our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every
frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors
close in an hour. Which way does your beard point
tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets?
The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses,
we'll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming ofthe lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent
cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-
teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit
poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank
and stood watching the boat disappear on the black
waters of Lethe?
Berkeley 1955
8.4k
World is given through her womb
Life by her love
She's a shooting star
Fulfilling the dreams of others
Forgetting her ones.
We don't dare to appreciate her
We don't care to her feelings,
Nor her dreams.
She swallows her pride
To serve us might.
Love her, she loves you tonnes
Ignore her, she loves you loads
Ignores our ignorance
And tolerates our flaws
Complaining never
Her cries are often unheard
With tears invisible,
Trauma a smile
Patience at infinity
With words unspoken.
She's a ocean
Vast to explore
Hard to understand
But plain as river
With thoughts deeper.
Her self respect
Often misspelled as ego,
Society mocks her down earth
And she raises like a tree
From a buried seed
Her every move
Is judgemental,
With several eyes poking her
And so she became unpredictable.
Never try to understand, rather love her.
She gives life. She is a mother.
She makes home. She is a wife.
She is a sister, a savior till the ends.
She is precious because she is a daughter
She refuses to retire because she's born a woman.
And do you feel she deserves just a single day!?
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 9:50 PM UTC
Fat;
Bubbly lipids gathering and stacking in a fashioned order.
Fat;
It was not so "fashionista" when she gained and gained.
Skinny;
She was lost, had no where to run but to the pantry.
Skinny;
Bones showing, skin glimmering in the sunlight.
Fat;
Sticking to her bones as paper sticks to glue.
Fat;
Poking and Prodding at the blubbery material that sits upon her femurs.
Unhappy;
She will always be.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
I was a shirt filed with straw and rags.
Pants that hang loose. Jeans cuffed pinned uncomfortably.
Nothing to think of; a hat filled with straw.
The inability to walk. Pinned to a board.
Hickory oak.
Chest disproportionate to a small waist.
Sleeves flung in the wind.
Left standing still; a face motionless.
Pinned to hickory oak.
A shadow left in an empty field, the boundaries of a checkerboard shirt.
The insecurity of straw hands.
Pickett fences to the feet of crows,
Still she'd visit often.
Distance cut short by dark heavy wings.
She'd caw in my silence,
Not knowing the ability to smile I stood against purpose.
She refused to run, poking fun at my hat.
The clothes that hung loosely in the wind, scurf tied tightly around my neck.
Feeling her ***** the strings of my chest.
Strands of straw filled by her need to find a home.
Was there anything there at all before that moment.
Becoming shelter to the way she pried.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
"silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.” ― friedrich nietzsche
like poking the hornet's nest with a stick, you are a rose with stems and thorns so thick,
your skin is protection from oppression, keeping the world out of your private channels
like i'm AM and you're FM all of which are static with distorted voices only science can pry through your enigmatic cacophony on a molecular level, and any evidence of who you are, i couldn't find with years of knowledge, a indestructible ship could speak more evidence about
why it was annihilated, obliterated, disintegrated under the ocean for months at a time without
any current survivors, and the last person i could be described as would be Sherlock Holmes
every detail washes over my head like a flood of details that can't enter because a force field
surround my head like it's a crown being so clueless, but it feels like i'm wearing a dunce hat
and maybe i do realize that there will be a position where you will be put out into light
there is no way out of your mind, like a schizophrenic, if kryptonite killed superman,
can it **** the infectious virus spreading like wildfire through these veins, can you stop
worrying about when you will finally break down and open up to someone?
****
- kra
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
As her eyes teased me,
She pleased me,
fiending for my touch,
her skin needs me - she feeds me.
Playing with my needs, she seized my attention.
Taking over, I flipped her over,
using my T-shirt to tie her hands together
The tighter I squeeze them, the further her legs spread apart,
like a piece of art,
however
I flipped her unto her stomach,
face down *** up, So I could lick it up
***** poking out, so I **** it up
tongued it down
Deep moans guide my touch
lips, once pink, now blush; flush with lust
Pulled her to the edge of the bed,
then slowly filled her up
Claiming every inch of her
as mine, I can’t seem to get enough
The hunger burning in her eyes,
this is more that just a ****
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 4:44 PM UTC
An urban legend of sorts they said, of a tree, of a
branch that took any weight given. it has nickname
It had a place in secluded nature where no one seen.
**"The *** tree,**
"Really,
"Ye but you have to watch your step,
"Why??
"Well lets just say its a well fertilized ground,
"The earth and plants feed well on the,
"Sap,
"Seeds,
Not from one but the many, I heard the branch
Can take any weight, a gentlemen of plentiful weight
Tested the legend and got stuck **** naked
Not for a,
"Moment,
"Minute,
"Hours,
"Was he stuck, birthday suit and all,
His lady friend had jogged off with wallet and all,
Its on YouTube,
Called tree hugger nudist,
There is loads of dents little *** holes,
Some say its all the ***** *******
So many hard ones poking dents,
indentations forever of ******* against this tree.
"I've been their done that,
Really,
"Never again,
"Were standing on this branch,
"What's that look for,
"Nothing,
(Giggles under breathe)
"Getting into the moment,
"Thought sap,
"Tree sap,
"Was seeping in to my hair,
"Don't stop what happened stuck,
*"Pants down skinny **** man up tree,*
(giggles loudly)
"Dude I'm 6 foot 5inches,
It was sap of a different kind,
(Gags in mouth)
No Fudging way,
Yep that's not the worst,
"How the hell does some one seed a tree that high,
**"It was like the tree was ******* itself,**
"Old juice, sap, Klingon,
"What ever I throw up on her,
She bit down,
I, we feel three feet out the tree,
"So that's what the plaster cast is from,
"Is that why your walking funny,
Twenty nine stitches its like something
From a Frankenstein film,
Never again my friend a bed is where ill be from
Now on, she fell in a puddle of Jib juice triplets
She had all three different, DNA tests on all
Who visited the tree.
As a video recorded of all who entered,
Just not the naked bits seen.
**"Nature can keep its *** tree,**
"I'll be lucky if mine works again,
"Mine isn't wood its a limp branch now,
*"Dude you got ****** by wood,*
"Bitten limp by teeth,
"Unlucky bro,
"Hahahahah,
"Rather you than me,
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
The place was dangerous as hell; we had no business being there. It was a complex, composed of four immense structures, looming on the bluffs between Lake Michigan and a ghost town. I'm not sure which side of the fence brought forth more eeriness - the sight of four massive industrial skeletons was indeed an eerie one, but within the village that must endure it's haunting presence persists a dwindling heartbeat... and together they produced a heightened effect of slow decay - and that was what drew me in.
The place was magnificent day or night.
By day, we'd explore the groundworks while the light allowed us to admire the massive machinery, which by then had accumulated copious amounts of corrosion. All those dead giants, never to function again. In the spring time, beams of light would penetrate the ceiling above, caving in from years of stress sans stress tests. Even when the light was not shining through, one could make out where the beams have been because in their wake they left a trail of life. Up to that point in my life I thought that was the most beautiful scene I had ever seen - a thousand tons of old machinery, and a stubborn sunbeam poking through, incubating it's au natural industrialized chia pet.
By night, we would ascend to the rooftops of these four story horror stories and gaze up at the stars. Sometimes, when our ***** were feeling particularly swelled, we'd venture across the rooftops as if in some post-apocalyptic videogame. And sometimes when we were feeling a bit rebellious and artistic, we'd bring along some cans of spray paint and redecorate to our desire. Oh, and another reason the place reeked of death was surely due to it being a glue factory... wherein horses were killed in order to gain access to their foot-stuff. I was told by an unfortunate local that they'd bury the unwanted horse parts in big pits back behind the place... this man had told me that he fell into one while wandering around back there - nearly died trying to get out.
We knew the place was soon to be leveled, but we did not know when. Eventually I ended up moving out of state for a while, and alas, upon my return my childhood fascination was no more. shrugs... So it goes.
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 4:18 AM UTC
there was a girl
who loved me so
named me bestie
gifted me with seashells
and sometimes,
baked brownie
to unfrown me
there was a girl
who taught me braids
loved poking my cheeks
and took photos of me
secretly
there was a girl
who got her heart
into pieces by bestie
and all she did is
to give her love
but only to get
none in return
she was a bird flying above
the sky all alone for no one
loved her anymore
she flew so far away
that i never saw her
ever again
she was gone;
no more brownie
no more grins
and the seashells
turned navy
oddly
twenty-nine-june,
i sat in the coffee shop
with my warm white coffee
and a copy of
stephen chbosky
she flew back home and
she descried me there
came up to me with
a beauteous grin
i last seen in
december '11
we talked
we laughed
we cried
we story-telled
(i remember, she once said,
back when i still
have the name bestie,
that she loved when
we used the term story-tell
for it made the sun and moon
collide together)
i was told that
this lovely girl's wrist
was named demon
and she **** it every time
he tries to drown her
in a sea of darkness
this time,
i got my heart into pieces
told her the same
and pinky promise was made
(like they always said,
promises are meant to be
b/r/o/k/e/n
and it did)
there is a girl
who i love so
named her bestie
and i will hold her
when she is
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
apart
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC