"sixteenth" poems
sixteen thoughts from my sixteenth birthday
1. you're more beautiful than the sky
2. you're the smartest person I know
3. you understand
4. you make me happier than anyone else on earth
5. god **** you are beautiful
6. you treat me like a queen
7. I'd treat you like one too
8. I'll treat you a million times better than some ******* ever could
9. all I want to do is hold you and make sure you're alright
10. you're amazing
11. GOD I WANT YOU SO BAD
12. I THOUGHT I WAS OVER YOU BUT GOD **** IT IM NOT
13. EVERYTHING HAS GONE SPIRALING BACK
14. IM SO IN LOVE WITH YOU
15. BUT YOULL NEVER LOVE ME LIKE I LOVE YOU AND THE PAIN IS COMING BACK AND I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO
16. GOD **** IT WHY AM I STILL SO IN LOVE WITH YOU
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
"I'll always be here if you need me."
The last words you said to me.
But I need you now, so what am I to do?
I just sit here, wondering, what would happen if I messaged you again.
You said you didn't have time for friends, but you've graduated now, maybe that's all changed.
You made me so many promises, so many promises that are no longer promises.
Does that make you a liar?
I guess it does, and that's the last thing I'd ever want to call you.
You were always there when I needed you, that was never a lie.
But ever since December 28, 2012, I felt like I've needed you more and more.
So how can you make up those promises?
How can I know if anything has changed?
I'm too scared to reach out to you because I know I can't deal with being shut down again.
I miss you.
I miss our friendship, whatever it may have been.
I miss texting you in class when I was anxious.
I miss the feeling of skyping with you the night before we first met.
I miss you running through my door on my sixteenth birthday to give me the biggest hug I've ever gotten.
I miss having you at my side 24/7.
I miss surprising you at school when I was still home in high school.
I wish you never left my life.
So, I'll always be here if you need me.
That's not a lie.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 7:11 PM UTC
Composed
wandering the Commons, quietly listening
to the sounds of Childish Gambino
Confused
Looking for the sixteenth time for
An escape from the Pru
Sipping a glass of Sam Adams Boston Brick Red
at a corner of WHISKEY'S on Boylston
Stopped in at Ben & Jerry's on Park:
Bought a cone of ™
Paid for it with
my Bank of America® VISA® P L A T I N U M P L U S ®
Checked in on foursquare and
read the protest tweets on
my verizonwireless® hTC® ThunderBolt™
with Google:
@OccupyWallSt
#NYPD collapses on #Sanctuary and begins arresting clergy and occupiers
inside. #D17 #Re-Occupy #OWS
\_Retweeted by Occupy Boston
@HoraceBoothroyd
@OccupyWallSt Links to sanctuary/clergy violations?
Erst I wandered the sights
and thought of thoughts
Tweeted a picture of the “pro-corporate” march
Pictured Headlines:
Area Cop Arrests Area Man for Obeying Traffic Signal
"Didn't anybody tell him that's not how its done round here?"
Cell of Young Idealists with ties to
Low-Level Terrorist Organization Busted & Detained:
Found Plotting the Grassroots, Digitized, Non-Violent Overthrow of the Status Quo
Op-ed:
City upon a Hill: “Whose city?! Whose hill?!”
#SOPA #NDAA
#OCCUPYBOSTON
~D.B. Guy, 12/17/11
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:35 AM UTC
Dear you
This world is not a wish granting factory
But please believe that you will get everything you need sooner or later
And remember that the things you needed, are not always good
It may be bad, because what is good when there is no bad, right?
In your sixteenth birthday, I wish you could be wiser
You could be more mature
To face everything in your life
Happy 16th Birthday **
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
This might not be deep enough for you, but I still need to tell you.
You have the lips of a goddess and I long to kiss them
And I want you to know
I hear you, that quiet shudder you make as you feel my breath on your neck
I see you, clenching your teeth as my fingers delicately dance on precious skin
I feel you, one hand on the side of the bed, the other reaching and holding on for dear life to my chest.
If you only knew how much I wanted you.
I want to make love to you like I have OCD- I won't stop until it's perfect.
I want to make love to you like I'm in love with you
I want to make love to you like you are my best friend
I want to make love to you like we were complete strangers, who met each other for the first time at some random college party in the Caribbean
But we thought to ourselves, **** I will die an unhappy person if I don't make love to you".
And maybe I'm wrong for that
But tell me why every time I close my eyes, it is your hands I feel in my back; your inarticulate moans starting to sound like A Love Supreme and My Favorite Things.
Let me kiss you at the sixteenth minute and fifty-two second mark of Around the Midnight.
I want to take in every inch of your body, savor the taste of the gourmet that is your back, your neck and your la belle chatte.
Vamos a la mierda y ver como el ciedo de la noche empieza a sangrar la luz del sol.
And wake in the morning thinking every night with you is a love story worth telling the world.
So I am.
Physical *********** that results in spiritual exultation is what we share.
I want you in ways my mind can't tell my mouth what to say, that's why every time before we make love, I tend to stare at you first.
Engulfing the structure of your body and envisioning the ways I shall go about pleasing it.
My bedroom walls, the floor, the bed, everything else becomes glass when I'm inside you.
We become the solstice to each other's world
Time turns into the finest Egyptian velvet that envelops us.
I hear Nefertari's screams of fulfillment every time I go deeper into the story.
You are the definition of a Beautiful Companion, so let me be your pharaoh.
The ****** omniscience of you is what I desire
So I humbly ask you, to give it to me, slowly
For every second I have with you is **** near perfect
It's Euphoric.
-SFJ
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
This small talk kills me
when once it was so easy.
I remember when I
was the favorite.
This was before her first car
and sixteenth birthday,
movie dates, weekend sleepovers,
and high school crushes.
This must be how old toys feel,
played out, aged,
traded for the new and bright.
On a sand dune,
we sit shipwrecked,
stranded,and talk carefully
like strangers do about
sea birds pecking for food,
dead jellyfish,
and the innocence of sand castles.
Dark glasses disguise
my quick views of bikinis,
fitness thighs, and smooth dark tans,
mask her sneak peeks
at young muscle, flat stomachs,
and cute boys with fashion haircuts.
She burrows her toes into the sand
to pass the time.
I try to think of jokes
to make her laugh
but no punchlines come.
We share a fancy grilled cheese sandwich,
shy giggles,
and a pink lemonade
before she can no longer hide
the boredom in her eyes.
I know its time to leave.
She reclines her seat back
and sleeps the drive home,
leaving me alone
with miles, empty highways,
and whispers of classic rock
from the radio.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
It didn't go as I'd expected it to, neither good or bad
I remember it very clearly
It was a day before the worst day of my life
The day before my sixteenth birthday
But that's another story
It was just the four of us that day
So many fond memories then
Like how we played our favorite songs as we judged and danced
From pop, rock, and rap, we didn't care
But as things came to an end the others left and it was only us
Upside down
That's what it was
No he didn't flip my world upside down
I was laying half off my bed playing my guitar, a song for him
He leaned forward, it was quick and sweet
From that kiss I felt nothing
I knew it was meant to be endearing
But from that kiss and all the others after
I felt nothing
And that's when I realised it's because that's exactly what we were
An empty kiss for a loveless couple full of nothing
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
For my sixteenth birthday she gave me a locket
Which I keep inside a bag, inside a box, inside of my drawer
All shiny and silver, with initials engraved
Carved on its back the date forever saved
It is resting undisturbed, never worn out
Though I try it out from time to time
Put it on by the mirror and wonder to myself
This is who I would be had things stayed the same
I shake my heavy head, unclasp it from my neck
The last piece of you at last is removed
And yes, I do try to forgive
But to this day that locket stays
Inside of a bag, in a box, at the bottom of my drawer
I don't put it on anymore
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
long before light graced
beyond my sealed lids,
a gray lady sat sewing
squares, "for foundation."
her accent was like the
magenta strips with
which she bordered:
a boy needs foundation,
boundaries to teach him
his boundlessness, dirt
in which to sink his feet.
and unlike my foundational
quilt, linked so firmly to the earth,
she faded
first to rose, and then
to silver pink before
dissipating
into dusted petal wither.
i'll meet her on the next go around.
my sixteenth was bitter-themed
and my parents gave me
a mexican blanket,
colored like mother,
aqueous aquamarine
and patterned like father,
those angular and triangular
movements;
woven just like theirs,
to give me rest and
haven on the roads
of my inevitable adventures.
and when i am eighteen
the women of my family
will meet with needles
and spools, and wool
to click-clack and chit-chat
over my adulthood -
and when it is done,
i will behold azure
like the heavens
entangled with warm tones
and spun prayers
to cocoon
in the chill of
carolina's coast
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
I could drown myself in cups of coffee, in nicotine, old books, and whiskey.
But that won't make me crave you any less.
I could immerse myself in the deepest of enthralling literature, poems, a sea of colloquy,
Waves, strangling the current of my mind.
But you'd still be the resonant word.
I could listen to the sweetest of voices on repeat, golden like honey, sticky,
But my ears would only ever truly answer to yours.
Serpents tend to bite their own tails, a mythological and alchemic symbol of the cyclic nature of the universe: creation out of destruction.
But I'm not breaking my heart, loving you.
Swollen, yearning, daydreamed astray, gathered fast by night.
Curiosity deniable no more, innocence lost, hands wandered exploratory below.
Clambering desperate over themselves, those hands fell over folds of warmed flesh, over forgotten nooks and unfound crevasses, over trembling thighs and aching calves.
Astounded by the vast array of fresh delicacies, of unencountered sensations and deepest pleasures, she stood by loyal as those hands swiftly accustomed themselves to pursuing true ecstasy.
What divine rapture. What soaring heights of pleasure to ascend to. And what a delicious revelation to encounter such unimaginable ecstasy.
That twelfth year become a fourteenth, a fifteenth, a sixteenth.
And with the passing of each came a series of ever more adventurous trysts, the sorts of which Cousteau, Armstrong, and even Columbus could all be truly proud of.
Depths sounded, crevasses plundered, self’s nectars tasted and devoured, the pleasures of the flesh went unearthed.
Elaborate constructions lovingly shaped, waxed and honed, years of heady experimentation, trial and errors, fantasy and dreaming, all in the pursuit of even harder, better, faster, stronger ******* Perhaps it was that, or was it more a case of welcomed companionship? Ambidextrous frustration? A carnal appetite, most terrifying in its magnitude?
Isn’t it time then, you tried a little tenderness?
Be good to you.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
My mind wandered as he walked in,
Wandered into the undetermined future of this thing they called "us"
Was it a lifetime of undeniable affection for one another?
Or was it a longing that would only lead to years of jealousy and rage?
Either way it goes it would definitely lead to an unrelenting passion,
Unrelenting huh?
A never ceasing, always wanting, continuously pursuing, passion for one another.
Sound like a lot of trouble to me.
Maybe I should sit back and reevaluate my wanderings,
What if this attraction is only felt by me?
Then will I want all of this?
Am I okay watching from the sidelines as my other half of "us" creates "us" after "us"
What I want to say is NO!!! And run away
What I will probably do is sit and watch,
Watch as the other half of my "us" turns into a quarter than an eighth and then a sixteenth and so on and so forth until the number behind the decimal is too long to count.
And even then I'll be sitting here waiting for him to return
Cause even in my singleness I am loyal.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Channelling Nostradamus from the sixteenth century
Did you see what you just wrote
Or did you just dream what we see?
When your prophecies come true
I'll say, You only had one view
So good luck to you and your future note
One shan't believe from an invisible visionary
When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring
The ******* ***** always seems to wear lingerie
That always looks, just a little ******
But never ever, do they slavishly try
To imitate their true identity or culture
Not like those Kardashian dogs, that dress up
Always trying to stylise society, for a very large fee
Speaking of canines, where's that poodle named Paris
She had some real talent, didn't she?
When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring
I wish upon a **** star of mine
Whilst screaming up to ones heaven
Most pussycats lives, end in about nine
But my time was all over, within almost seven
Maybe I really could, make it all alone
On this place god calls, my extraordinary rendition?
Or shall I live this false life, as some sort of robotic clone
Not truly knowing oneself, therefore, failing my own audition?
When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring
Well, just get back on that bronco horse, named Toff
Dust off that hat, once worn by certain gent
For they will forever try and attempt to buck you off
You the rider, of this very serious event
So, forget about the fame and good times
and the overhyped lives of most Hollywood stars
Live within your means and save your silver dimes
In your half empty or half full, glass money jars
When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring
When I wish upon a **** star
My dreams start to become truth by far.
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:23 PM UTC
a bowl of black beans / your mother sitting on the other side of the kitchen / this liquidation of self / you would be something / anything / anyone / if it could make you safe / the black beans taste like nothing now / you aren’t crying but you’re **** near it / your mother makes a honey sweet remark / won’t you stay alive / and / eat your beans then we’ll leave / and you don’t have an answer but you listen / you are pleading with the voices to let you eat the beans and make them taste less like bleach / your mother bleached your hair when you were fourteen and you bleached your skin at sixteen / you drank that same bleach from that same bottle three days after your sixteenth birthday/ but this is a bowl of beans and it tastes like that time / smells like that time / your throat coughing up blood and your body wretching to *****
a bowl of black beans / your mother takes that bowl and washes it out in the sink / you still have that hoarse voice from imagining it tastes like bleach / you still have that ***** wretch instinct because of how much your throat stings / then mother says; you’ll stay with them for some time / as if that makes anything better / a drive into the emptiness of a psychiatric hospital / a place they’d sent you when you were ten because you were so angry and so depressed / you break when the blue tiles turn to ocean and you drown / you break when the red tiles turn to fire and burn your toes / you are hungry again / but you know everything you eat will taste like bleach.
you can’t sleep because the bleach is still on your tongue / you think of that bowl of black beans / your mother sitting on the other side of the kitchen / maybe you’d see her smile again / maybe you’d be broken and be able to exist comfortably / don’t you want to survive to see that?
you answer / no / i’d rather die than be patronized.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 2:34 PM UTC
by: MissPine
You were born on a warm day, yet so cold.
The breeze you've always wanted to feel once told.
You wondered why it seems too odd.
Life - its presence brings the deepest word.
You were proud until it was sixteenth.
The dream wished would come true then vanish.
You had kept the pain 'til nineteenth.
Faith loosened up, but your soul just hush.
It was twenty second - a decision stepped in.
You opened a new chapter of your book.
Smooth sailing, yes it was a perfect hook!
A year and a half after, fear then broke in.
What were you doing? Did it reached the core?
Took a year to rest, last quarter of twenty-four.
Time to bring back the person who once was lost.
Yet again failed 'cause your bravery is a frost.
What were you doing? Was it a valour?
The valour you ever needed the most.
The valour, which you probably once boast.
Truth be told, 'twas the valour must add the color.
The life you started was an ordinary one.
Dancing and singing made it full of fun.
You've reached your limit, now what?
How did you end up being like that?
Climbing up to twenty-eight, a few months more.
How will you hold your smile while on this tour?
Would you continue on this journey called life?
Or would you rather end it by using a knife?
Your courage at this moment is on a test.
The confidence, your heart desires, is bent.
I know you don't fear death to that extent.
You could have been better and be the best.
Smile, let the whole world know how you feel.
Happiness, it's either a lie or a truth, so be it.
As long as you know sadness is concealed.
At least you've got one person, who can't forget.
That person, whom you could rely on.
That person, who knows your hows and whys.
It is I, that someone who must not be gone.
You knew all along - who will never say goodbyes.
I will always remember you.
You are the only one I know.
I will always remember you.
You are the only May I know.
I love you!
These words I could only say.
Thru this letter, which I wrote for you,
I hope these words would stay.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 10:37 PM UTC
Don't tell me to get of my phone and play hopscotch in the wilting paddy fields across the house
the same paddy field that decorated the chest of every newspaper last Thursday, written across the title in bold; 6 year old girl strangled to death
don't tell me to get off my couch and try make some friends
the same friends that got my neighbour's daughter gangraped at her sixteenth birthday party
don't tell me to only fall in love with a person of the opposite gender,
not after hearing the screams of the lady across these cracked walls, whom as usual would make excuses to cover up the reasons behind the galaxy toned punch scars across her no longer smooth skin, a result of being beaten up by her drunk husband each night
don't tell me writing isn't going to get me anywhere, that only science will, not after you've seen me bleed across these pages trying to make you understand my passion and love for writing & trust me when I say these numbers & stupid scientific terms will never be able to diffuse into my numb skull the way these lovely letters have
don't tell me that the numbers written on one piece of paper that is graded by a person who probably had a million and one reasons to make me fail, defines my intelligence, not after looking at that girl from high school who failed her maths & ended up becoming a world renowned poet
don't tell me that it's right to hate a person because they were born a shade darker than I am, not after the person who saved my life that summer night I was sprawled across the bathroom floor, overdosed on drugs, was 'fifteen shades darker' than me
don't tell me that I don't have a right to stand up to you because I'm younger than you, not after a 50 year old man ***** his 12 year old student; in no way does your age define your maturity
and dear generation X & Y,
don't tell me what is wrong and right, for I am old enough to face the consequences of my actions, for there is no way I will learn without making mistakes,
and dear generation X & Y,
we'll show you how life should be lived.
Thank you, sit down.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
If you think this might be about you, please, don't stop reading.
Though I might not know you yet I have probably encountered you before.
We probably avoided colliding but secretly we wanted to. Maybe you are one of the boys on the bus who, for a sixteenth of a second makes my heart pound and my fingertips go numb, hoping that you'd notice me.
I want you to play your tongue across the piano keys of my teeth.
I want us to sing the themes of Pucchini operas while we make rainy Sunday pancakes.
I want to walk with you through the vineyards of your homeland.
Let me take the weight of your world and put it somewhere beneath my shoulders,
for me to carry with me.
I will never use us in the past tense.
We will never look sad in photographs
and our airmail correspondances will be kept in floral boxes and hidden
for one of our daughters to discover.
Our love will be in the brushstrokes of Signac and Monet.
We will discover that the island of Hawaii
is like the excess emotions of the world
that have congealed out of the earth
to be comforted by the rocking waves.
The sunsets hearts of the people will welcome us.
On the black earth
they walk
their hands filled with sun bleached coral stones.
And they spell out messages and write out the names of the ones they love
so even God can read what's in their hearts.
And when the world takes you from me
which it undoubtably will
I will scatter your ashes in the places we have walked.
along the vineyard trails
and the mountain peaks
and in the deepest oceans we crossed for one another
I will let go of you
let you leave my hands on the winds that rush through Death Valley
while I drive along the same highway
that we carved together.
And I will return to the island of Hawaii
carrying white stones to write out your name
for God to read.
May 17, 2011
May 17, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
she left when i was four
no explanation or anything more
it cut me straight to the core
you may think i was too young
to understand but my heart tore
my baby sister she was two
she barely could walk without falling
down onto the floor
now I barely see her
she's growing up too fast
she doesn't remember much of that past
she remembers calling me *****
And that she loved saying "it's purple."
I remember so much more
The smell of my moms sweet perfume
how she always had these really good cookies
her hugs and her kisses
but that day when she left it hurt me so much
because a girl needs her mother
a mother cannot leave her children
but my mom she was different
she never said "Good bye."
She never taught me to fly
she didn't see Jillian become the beaut she is today
she won't be able to see my sixteenth birthday
or be there for graduation
or my wedding
but whatever at least I have my dad
and my little sister
and family and friends
at least i have you guys/girls
because i know if you were going to leave you would at least say
"Good bye."
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 8:17 AM UTC
on every girls sixteenth birthday
traditionally,
her mother would drape a necklace
crafted out of silver
around her neck
and one day - she'd do the same.
no one would hear her whisper her wish,
due to the chorus of birthday melodies
escaping her loved ones lips.
she'd hug her mother
and dance with her father
until they went home.
but her parents had died too young
so she draped a necklace
crafted out of rope
around her own neck.
she couldn't hear the singing,
for she lay six feet under ground -
the height at which her father once stood.
but it didn't matter,
as her wish had been granted.
she lay hugging herself,
incased in wood.
she could sleep at last,
blanketed in a layer of earth,
for now - she was home.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
267 people are born every minute,
all over the world,
into pre made lives,
designed especially for them.
every minute,
108 people,
are tucked preciously,
into satin lined caskets,
to begin their journey to another life.
when you're five, you think you're going to live forever.
by your sixteenth birthday,
you're ready to die.
life isn't easy,
life isn't fair,
and at the end of the day nobody really cares,
who has the longest hair,
or who has the tiniest waist or,
who owns the prettiest eyes.
see this is life,
and it's not very nice.
we're all born.
but why?
there's only one reason,
and that is,
we're,
born to die.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
For my Pop Pop
I want to see you.
Even in your frailty
As your bones shake in the gentle wind like chimes
I want to be close to you.
Your flesh is nearly transparent
The veins in your face and the thinning of your silver hair
Make you look much older than the 71 years
That have left rings on your skin.
Some say you were a poor father
And an even poorer husband.
You never got along with my aunt
Your daughter
Your beam of light shining through the sidewalk cracks
And she began to shine for other people
But her brightness reflected off of ice
And I know her coldness is not merely human nature.
Pop Pop, why were you always so kind
To my sister and me?
It's like we thawed your hardened spirit
So we could see the softness lying underneath.
Funny how it's just natural
For a three year-old and a newborn to make a grown man crumble.
I don't want to think about the fact that you may never walk again
Because your disease can never steal where we've been
Although, perhaps mundane
Steak-and-Shake, our rented condo,
And plenty of barbecue spare rib joints later
All meant the world to me.
I wish I could say something other than
The last time I saw you was on my sixteenth birthday.
It's been over a year since you stayed in the Sunshine State
And I traveled home to my garden
Pop Pop, it was hard as the years went by
The only way we got to know you was through $20 gift certificates
And the static on the other end of the telephone
On birthdays and holidays.
I wish I had called you more
Because now it's hard for you to speak.
Daddy said you had a shotgun subtlety when you spoke
"How bout them Phillies?"
"Oh....the cancer spread."
"Have you been to a game in a while?"
Pop pop, now I'm the one who's shotgun subtle
"How's the hospital food?"
I'm scared I won't get to see you
"How are you feeling?"
I'm scared you won't get better
I love you, Pop.
I'm scared.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
before you find the treasure long cursed.
Where x marked a spot,
the report said a decusstation occurred,
struck a nerve and lit a will to find an answer,
to a quest, with its ions gone.
In Piracy, as in any trade,
during the long, long winters of this era's
Sixteenth Century, -- base seamanship is primary,
being as we have but this one little boat to venture in,
bubble, if you insist, a bit of life's own breath, magi know,
in fact we can dive to the bottom of the sea, from the top,
and fight our fear of crushing death, until each who does, does.
And we others can imagine,
going down, no weight, self propelling porpois- ing assist fin,
plunging past the deepest ever,
once,
knowing only I am not the first to pass out before I know
what happens, so I imagined this,
free falling below our bouancy, deep
notice, no pressure,
notice, breathing, as though, we lived in a water balloon,
and we laughed bubbles,
and mom felt nauseous.
Billions and billions of bubbles. A we bit o' cosmic foam.
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 5:45 PM UTC
Albany Rosaline Smith.
On Mondays Albany went down to the store to get milk.
Her mother always gave her twenty five cents.
Twenty for the milk,
And five for some candy.
All the boys she passed along the way would tell her how she was
Genuinly beautiful.
And she knew it.
Albany was gorgeous.
On her sixteenth birthday she let Bobby Fisher
**** her under the oak tree
Out back in the feild behind the pond.
"You're something special there, Albany,"
He told her.
She knew it was true,
But it was a nice gesture,
So she let him **** her from behind this time.
Albany became Misses Fisher two years later,
Three weeks after graduation.
It was just the thing to do back then.
They had four kids,
And she was a good mom.
Mathilda, Lizabeth, Marcus, and Temprance.
Three of which were Bobby's.
One of which was the town physician's.
Bobby never knew.
He was a mill worker.
He was not very bright.
But Albany was.
Bright and Beautiful.
She died at the age of forty-two.
She was ***** an killed by the doctor.
He was also the mortician,
So no one questioned it.
It was a small town.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
There is thunder in my ******
from my ****** falls her monthly rain –
I like being a girl, but I hate being a woman.
This is what all of us say:
give me estrogen but not too much.
give me the babies but don’t make it hurt.
And all their milk is store-bought.
April 25th, 2006.
Judgment day, in white pants
I give orange pulp to everyone –
the Sixteenth Century has me by the ovaries.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
You told me the first time you ever met me
you knew you had to have me
I wonder when you realized I wasn’t some limited edition video game
that you could turn on and then leave for later
I guess never because all you ever did was play me
I fell in love with the sound of your name on my tongue
like a shiny copper penny dropping on hardwood floor
a l e x
al-EX-and-eR
ALEX
I fell in love with your 6’2 frame and the way
I could have sipped wine from your collarbones if I had desired to
Your favorite drink was strawberry *****
and I have to admit after drinking a whole bottle
in the shower with you one night
I’m a little partial to it now too
We started dating October 12, 2012
and our clothes fell off eight days later in your waterbed,
three days short of my sixteenth birthday
and that was the same day I met your mother
who hugged me and told me how beautiful I was
I wonder how long you wanted to return me
to get at least half of a refund
I’m not really sorry you never got your money and time back
You were never a game to me
I never pressed pause on you
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
i felt true love tonight.
i felt it when you looked at me.
when you kissed me.
when you pulled me to you
and we somehow fell asleep,
tangled in each other's limbs.
when i met you and said you were different,
i never knew just how much.
i never knew that what started as
late night conversations in your car
would turn into
kisses at baseball games.
or that it would progress into
thanksgiving with your family,
christmas with mine.
running away together,
if just for a day.
making love until you were
almost too tired to drive home.
and now,
well now we're in a whole new world.
a world of buying your own textbooks
and meal plans
and roommates that make us laugh
until three in the morning.
but at the end of the day,
when i crawl into bed,
you're still there.
one year later,
and you're still here.
i never imagined we would
make it this far.
but we took baby steps and
we still walked a mile.
i want to walk a million more with you,
and we will.
those miles will take us
through graduation,
down the aisle,
into parenthood,
and to the end.
but there's no one else
i'd rather walk them with.
i love you,
now and forever,
forever and always.
Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 12:09 AM UTC