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Andre Leng-Ay Nov 2014
you know you can, but courage is denied
"probably" knowing that he'll never reply
trying, but failing to capture his attention
looks like again, i've been denied admission.
em Jan 2016
I wish I could say I was sand that slipped through your fingertips, but baby that's a truth for someone else.

You let me go.
You would rather be loved on hazy nights than for all the forever's I could promise you. You wanted love, you just didn't want me.

This is our truth.
Please help me improve this.
Onoma Aug 4
a slip of stones...your sidelong glance,

an entire mountain to break our fall.

i want to tell you--as i tell you when

night doesn't know what's happening.

with the ritual of breath and its savage

exasperation.

you push from behind my eyes, and i

yours.

it's from there i hold words to your face

that pale, so i can live and die by comparison.

rocking forward and backward, side to side...

i can't undress and clothe enough.

i scratch at this split heart, and offer it a

crushing embrace when it breaks open.

it's you baby, it's you...the culmination of my

poetry--this final intensity.

i don't care about the next poem anymore,

the one i'm in is the god of your country.

i'm content to roam...waiting for you to come out

into a clearing.
ev Jul 27
you saw me tracing
your first initial with my
big toe in the sand.

and at that moment
you knew i never lost my
love for you my dear.
senryus
The flames they rise up inside of me
an inferno of words, all screaming
fighting
to be the first to break my outer shell
to be the first to break me
to make me let one slip,
to form a crack, running down my face
inviting people to pull it open.
and as curiosity consumes most,
that one inferno risen word
will be the end of me
Oh sickly poisonous flame
Darting back and forth
I hear you call my name
It's not what they think, for what it's worth

One slip of the finger
And a tingling sensation
Smells of gas linger
Now for use of personification:

Its seems that you love me
For you never let me go
I feel pitiful in your embrace
And it seems that you know

You always take control
And oh how I'm fascinated by your flame
Skin swells and pain holds
In this endless torture game
AS Jan 24
It’s all about the mask

Keeping the image all regal and sublime

Oh, thou holy

Superior against the rest

Even though underneath your life is a full on mess.

Feeling of grandiose over those in your care.

Image of loving to those who stare.

Behind the closed doors.

Emotional stunted and reliant on the support of a child.

Paddies and screaming to those who demand stable care.

Lady of burden only fair to be your middle name.

Problems of the world forced onto young shoulders as if they were

much older.

Feelings of defeat when they need to come and speak.

Only you can have problems or need care.

Then show off to the world a mother who embodies tender

attention.

Jackal and Hyde, the importance of protecting that prodigal pride.

No room for another to come and confide.

Image is everything,

Ego is life.

No matter what the danger or risk, and the monster you miss slip

by.

Keep silent, keep good and marvel at her mask.

Rewarded with love and chance of being the golden child.

With many secrets I need to hide, just to maintain her precious

beloved pride.



© 2018
Abigail Sheard
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