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"poppop" poems
*He used to paint my nails. He'd paint em pinks reds and orange he'd paint them blue sometimes too mostly black. He'd make tiny daisy flowers all around. He used to put lipstick on me he'd trace my  out lip line he'd use black or brown liner making them fuller he'd tell me they need to look fuller. He use to dress me up he'd get fishnet thigh highs he'd have me step into a mini dress made of synthetic leather zebra prints all around. He'd follow with a black tight leather half shirt gloves long and white always would follow. He use to do my hair he'd comb front to back for 45mins it'd shine and glow falling off my shoulders cascading down my back it almost touched my **** He used to put me in heels he'd picked always the reds I didn't like these red heels I stood almost to his chest. He used to tell me to dance. He'd say move my hips like this in a circular motion. He'd say stand   in the middle on the dinning room table dance for me he'd say dance for poppop. He use to touch me when I danced He used to touch himself too I cried. He'd become meaner He'd say don't make me punish you I felt punished already. He'd get undress I'd cry louder begging him not to. He's slapped my face I always fell I'd stand up fast or he'd hit me again. He'd lay me on the table keeping me trapped in the middle he'd fill me every night I'd cry He'd laugh. ***He use to paint my nails. (until my birth father shot him)* *Always Me Ayeshah ® Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977 - Present YEAR(s) All right reserved ®***
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May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 1:07 AM UTC
Ayeshah
Nails! (This is very graphic&disturbing,please don't read if u think u might be offended)
*He used to paint my nails. He'd paint em pinks reds and orange he'd paint them blue sometimes too mostly black. He'd make tiny daisy flowers all around. He used to put lipstick on me he'd trace my  out lip line he'd use black or brown liner making them fuller he'd tell me they need to look fuller. He use to dress me up he'd get fishnet thigh highs he'd have me step into a mini dress made of synthetic leather zebra prints all around. He'd follow with a black tight leather half shirt gloves long and white always would follow. He use to do my hair he'd comb front to back for 45mins it'd shine and glow falling off my shoulders cascading down my back it almost touched my **** He used to put me in heels he'd picked always the reds I didn't like these red heels I stood almost to his chest. He used to tell me to dance. He'd say move my hips like this in a circular motion. He'd say stand   in the middle on the dinning room table dance for me he'd say dance for poppop. He use to touch me when I danced He used to touch himself too I cried. He'd become meaner He'd say don't make me punish you I felt punished already. He'd get undress I'd cry louder begging him not to. He's slapped my face I always fell I'd stand up fast or he'd hit me again. He'd lay me on the table keeping me trapped in the middle he'd fill me every night I'd cry He'd laugh. ***He use to paint my nails. (until my birth father shot him)* *Always Me Ayeshah ® Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977 - Present YEAR(s) All right reserved ®***
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There are a hundred ways To say I wish I could go back, Or I soaked up growing up like a worried sponge Or I can still smell the dirt on my jeans Or I don’t even like baseball, but I love the sound of the metal bat against the ball Or watermelon slices on summer days taste like presents Or there was iced tea brewing in the kitchen Or I thought the lions looked happy in their cages Or the cherry water ice painted my skin red Or I had an imaginary friend who taught me loneliness Or we had water gun fights in the front yard Or we’d ride our bikes til dusk Or I thought the older boys in the cul-de-sac were cute Or I thought the older girls double-dutching were cool Or the hot plastic of a slide against the back of my legs Or the timid eyeing of the next rock along the creek to jump to Or the boom of a grandfather clock chiming Or I could spend eternity swinging by a rope my poppop tied to a tree Or my grandmother is a magician Or I used to believe in magic Or I still do
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Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 5:19 PM UTC
amberblair
NOSTALGIA GETS BORED AND RENAMES ITSELF (After Jacqui Germain)
There are a hundred ways To say I wish I could go back, Or I soaked up growing up like a worried sponge Or I can still smell the dirt on my jeans Or I don’t even like baseball, but I love the sound of the metal bat against the ball Or watermelon slices on summer days taste like presents Or there was iced tea brewing in the kitchen Or I thought the lions looked happy in their cages Or the cherry water ice painted my skin red Or I had an imaginary friend who taught me loneliness Or we had water gun fights in the front yard Or we’d ride our bikes til dusk Or I thought the older boys in the cul-de-sac were cute Or I thought the older girls double-dutching were cool Or the hot plastic of a slide against the back of my legs Or the timid eyeing of the next rock along the creek to jump to Or the boom of a grandfather clock chiming Or I could spend eternity swinging by a rope my poppop tied to a tree Or my grandmother is a magician Or I used to believe in magic Or I still do
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