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One Cool summers day, the Snuggly-Buggly,
Was approached by a creature, hulking and ugly,
A terrible creature, so huge and scary,
And the palms of its hands were surprisingly hairy,
It boomed with a voice, so loud and so deep,
That the floor would shake and frighten the sheep,
But no fear existed in the Snuggle-Bugs protector,
For he had an object called the "****** reflector"
He showed it to the creature, this round piece of glass,
The creature responded with the mightiest of gasps,
It turned tail and ran, at the sight of its face,
It stumbled and tripped as it ran with no grace,
You see the Snuggly-Buggly is one of a kind,
As it beat this huge creature, using only its mind,
Now the Snuggle-Bug is free from fear and despair,
Cos the Snuggly-Buggly will always be there.
Somewhere in this world, I've heard that it's true,
That a creature exists, with huge eyes that are blue,
A small kind of creature, you'd mistake for a mouse,
A small kind of creature, with a small kind of house,
Now this creature is kind and so full of affection,
But the worlds big and scary, so it requires protection,
But fear not young Snuggle-Bug, you are destined to find,
Another such creature, that's also so kind,
A creature that's known, from the east to the west,
As the Snuggly-Buggly if you hadn't have guessed,
Now the Snuggly-Buggly is small but it's strong,
And it holds the Snuggle-Bug in it's arms which are long,
Now it keeps it warm and it keeps it secure,
It gives it some love, and it gives it some more,
If one makes a mistake, a hug's what they're given,
Because each of them knows, they'll always be forgiven,
Now remember this Snuggle-Bug, no matter what you do,
The Snuggly-Buggly will always love you.
My first attempt at a childrens poem, but it's also a love poem to my Snuggle-Bug :)
the dead bird Feb 2016
the frustration I had
after failing
to bring myself to ******
for the
tenth
time this past week
makes me more
furious
than depressed

seriously
my *** drive
has always been high

as soon as I
got over
the shame
society places on women
for enjoying
their sexuality
I have always used
*******
as a release
relieves
stress
leaves me
relaxed
and
content

or should I say,
left me
feeling that way

usually
it was once a day
fairly frequent
but, it
matched
my *** drive's
needs

what the **** is wrong with me

I have tried
imagining,
watching,
reading,
looking at
every form
of erotica
that exists

I have searched
through everything
I can find
from
****,
******,
stories,
comics

and my search history
will let you know
that I've searched
everything
from
****
to
******
to
interracial lesbian forced *******
and things
worse
than that

e v e r y t h i n g

used to take me,
oh, I dunno
maybe three minutes
with my *******?

after
around an hour
is when I give up
now
I even bought
a different
*******
NO
RELEASE
NO
PASSION
GONE
what is
WRONG
WITH
ME

oh yeah -
depression

I mean
I knew it was bad
when video games
no longer
had appeal
that was enough

games
have been a passion
and a hobby of mine
since I was five

the other hobby
I started a bit older than five
but
you stole that one, too

after depression
beat the **** out of me
on Tuesday
I thought that was it
thought
since the next morning
I awoke
without the urge
to **** myself
it was over

nope

you have robbed me
of the simplest
things
in my life
that give me pleasure

no more
wriggling
moaning
spasming
the tingling
sensation
that starts in my toes
and makes its way
up
the length of my body
the warmness
that follows
with it
the
satisfaction
slight smile
snuggly
sleepy
post ****** me

I miss her
give her
back

I miss my life
give it
back

this isn't
ME
for ***** sake!

I am a ******
witty
humorous creature
full of passion
looking
for opportunities
to get myself off!
not this
depressed
apathetic
vessel
without soul.

you won't stop
until you have
everything
in my life

you won't stop
until you
put
my soul in your mouth
chew
grind
crush it

your saliva
breaks me down

spit me out
please
I am fighting
for you to cough me up
regurgitate
the essence
of me
let me put myself
back inside this body
please
please

no
you won't stop
you will eat my soul
until
ever fiber
protein
ounce of health
I had
is now
inside of you,
depression

cold-hearted *****
I know it is a tough topic. Not a poetic topic. Not a topic that easy to talk about.
But I don't ******* care.
This *****.
josh wilbanks Jun 2016
I've been told that a catapiller wrapped snuggly in it's cacoon like the bed-time burrito of my youth feels very simular to the feeling i give when i hug. I've been told that i squeez just right, with the warmth of a summer night. I've been told I hug like a lover seeing her soldier for the first time in years. The few people i hug ask me how i hug so well.
I don't.
I hug with the pain of yesterday.
I hug with the scars on my wrists and the blood on my legs.
I hug with the overdoses, the addictions, the emptyness, the abondonment.
When i hug, i send a message.
Something came to me and told me to write this one. Sorry it's ***, but i think it's better this way.
Mitchell May 2014
We took the back road to the house. The shade from the trees made the road feel like tunnel. Not a shred of light came in. We'd have to drive slow. The road wasn't made of concrete: it was made of dirt, rock, and dead leaves. Sometimes we could see the worms come up out of the dirt in the headlights, their pink stretching bodies like weird little fingers. Carrie never looked. She said it was too scary. The rest of us would look and watch them dance around like that. Sometimes we'd have to run them over. Of course, we'd feel bad about it, but we needed to get back to the house. There were things to be done. Nothing planned, but nonetheless, things to be done.
Englend reversed the car up to the front door. The liquor, the food, and the beer was in the back and would make it easier to get it from there. Patty and Carrie (the one scared of the worms) ran straight to the bathroom. They'd been complaining about how we never stopped at a gas station to ***. Englend said we didn't have the time and I just didn't care. Denny was in the same mindset as me. We usually were. Kat was looking out the window, thinking about something she didn't wish to share when we started to unload. She offered to help after she'd finished her thought, but the three of us said we had it. We didn't really, but we let her have her thought while we carried the bags. There weren't that many to complain about anyway.
When everyone was inside unpacking their things, I hung back and smoked a cigarette. I looked down at the river. It was full and rushing. The trees were full with bright, lime green leaves. The branches were tanned auburn from the sun. They looked the forearms of the Mexican girls at my high school: smooth, everlasting, stretching to a place I was never allowed to touch or look at. I ashed my cigarette into a pile of leaves and immediately worried that I was going to start a fire. I kicked it out, thrusting my boot heel into where I thought the ember had went.
"What the hell are you doing?" Englend screamed from the front porch, a handle of whiskey underneath his arm, a glass with ice in the other.
"Ashed into the leaves," I told him, "Trying to take it out." I kicked the leaves a few more times, then walked towards Englend.
"Let me get a hit of that," I said, pointing at the handle.
He spun the top and it rolled off the tread. The cap rolled off the deck and Englend chased after it, handing me the bottle first.
"Take this. Where'd the hell it go?"
"Down there somewhere," I said, pulling the bottle back. The sweetness of the whiskey hit my nostrils first, then the bite of the liquor. I coughed, feeling my eyes begin to water. The first one was always the hardest. After that, they got easier.
June had just ended. July was just arriving. The third was tomorrow and the next day was the fourth.
I took another pull from the handle. I placed on the decks railing and left Englend with it. He was still looking around for the bottle cap.
"I thought I saw it roll under the deck," I told him.
"*******," he moaned. He looked up at me, "Come and help me. It'll be faster with two."
"Can't. Gotta' check on Carrie and get ourselves a room."
"*******," he moaned again, reaching under the deck.
"Don't get your hand bit by a possum or rat or something!" I yelled behind me, going inside. "Carrie!" I screamed, "Where'd you go?"
"Upstairs getting our room ready!" I heard her scream from the 2nd floor, "Come and help me put the sheets on."
I went into the kitchen. Denny was stocking the fridge with the beer and the meat. I reached over his shoulder and grabbed a Budweiser. He had an open one in between his knees. The light stuff was on the bottom to the far left, the heavy stuff in the middle, and the expensive IPA, hoppy stuff to the far right. The top shelf was for food, mixer, and whatever else the girls had decided to get at the store. Fruit and things. I opened up the freezer. There were two handles of Smirnoff resting on three large bags of ice. We would need more ice. I closed the freezer and ran my fingers of the labels of two more handles of Cazadorés tequila and Bulleit bourbon. Overall, I thought we were fairly stocked for the four day weekend, but one could never be to sure. People came out of the wood work for the 4th of July. No telling who would show up at our front door.
I went upstairs to see what Carrie was doing. She was laying on the bed with the sheets resting on the dresser. The light was off. The room was cast in that light grey pigment that happens when the bedroom light isn't there. It was nice. The sun had been straining my eyes the whole time even though I had been driving in the backseat. Carrie was laying face down on the bed. She was wearing a skirt, so I slowly laid down on the bed and inched her dress up. She didn't flinch or move, so I pulled it up until I saw her burgundy lace *******. They looked pressed or ironed or something they looked so clean.
"What're you doing?" Carrie asked me, her face down into the mattress.
"Just looking," I said.
"At what?"
"At your ****."
"Why?"
"Cause' it's nice."
"Close the door."
I got up, closed the door, and laid back down.
"Lets put the sheets on the bed first."
"OK," I said.
We put the sheets on the bed, but couldn't wait for the pillows and the rest of the blankets. We tried to be quiet, but knew we weren't. After, we took a shower together. I rubbed Carrie's shoulders while the hot water rained down on us. She said it was better to get a massage in the shower because the hot water loosened up the muscles. I didn't know if that was true or not, but I did it anyway. I watched her as she unpacked her bag. Her hair was wet and it swung back and forth, wetting her back. She was wrapped in her favorite pink towel. Water dripped from her body down to the floor. I waited to put my things away. I had brought up very little. Mostly *****. Carrie took up most of the dresser. I had one drawer by the time we were finished.
We took a nap. After we were done sleeping, we looked outside and saw the sun had been replaced with the night. The stars and the light coming from inside of the cabin streaked out into the forest like a splash of golden florescent paint. Carrie and I poked our heads outside to listen to the creaking trees and the rustling of animals through the bush. Someone downstairs was lightly clattering dishes as they cleaned them while the smell of red maple firewood burning in the fireplace came up to our room. I took out my phone from my pocket and looked at the time.
"****," I said, "It's already 10 o'clock."
"I'm starving."
"I'm starving and need a drink."
"Let's go downstairs and see what they made."
I slipped on my 501's while Carrie straightened up her hair. We went downstairs and saw two plates with hamburgers and fries on them. Patty was at the sink cleaning the pots and pans. She was staring down into the soapy froth, humming a song to herself I couldn't understand. She hadn't heard us come down. Denny, Englend, and Kat weren't in the living room.
"Where is everybody?" I asked.
"Oh!" Patty burst. She swung around, a soaped up frying pan in her hands. "You scared the **** out of me!"
I put my hands up, "Gotcha!" I said smiling.
"They went for a walk somewhere and left all the dishes for me."
"Leave'em," Carrie said, taking Patty's hands and wiping the soap away with a rag, "Van and I will take care of them."
"I only have a few more..."
"I insist!" Carrie took Patty's arm and lead her to the couch and laid her down. I took a cup from the pantry, filled it with ice, and poured Bulliet half-way up. I handed the glass to Carrie and she brought it to Patty.
"Look at that," Patty smiled, "Full-service."
"What you get when you come up to the Dangerson cabin."
"**** right!" I exclaimed through a bite of hamburger, "Only the best here."
Patty leaned her head back after taking a long sip of the whiskey. She exhaled and closed her eyes. I watched her as her chest heaved up and down. She kicked off her shoes and let her hair fall over the armrest of the couch.
"You said they went into the woods, Patty?"
Carrie took her burger and went and sat next to Patty.
"Lift your legs up," Carrie said, "Let me sit with you."
"Yeah. They went into the woods an hour or so ago. Probably a little less."
I opened the fridge and grabbed another beer.
"What were they going out there for?"
"I have no idea."
"Probably to get firewood or something," Carrie said, "Can you grab me one of those."
"Sure," I said, tossing her one.
"Wait," She yelled, throwing her hands in the air. The beer landed right in one of her flailing hands.
"Nice catch," I laughed, opening the fridge and grabbing another.
"You're such a ****!"
I smiled and walked out onto the deck.
"He really is," I heard Carrie tell Patty.
"I heard that!"
"You were meant to!" she called back to me, laughing.
I shook my head and opened the can of beer. Why did they decide to go get firewood now? We had plenty of wood here already. Patty probably didn't know what she was talking about. That happened often. I strained my eyes to see through the darkness, maybe see if I could spot a flashlight or the round end of a lit cigarette, but the forest was just a wash of thick blackness. Even the stars had grown faint.
"Englend!" I shouted.
Nothing. Not a peep. They were far out there.
"Englend!" I shouted again.
"What the hell are you shouting at?" a voice said from the trees. I couldn't tell who it was, but it was someone I knew.
"Who the hell is that?"
"Well who the hell do you think it is?" It was Englend. He came out of the trees like a wild boar. He had a handle of whiskey in one hand with a pile of small twigs and firewood in the other. What came to mind first was a mix between a drunken Brawny guy and a pinecone.
"What's all the screaming about?" Kat asked, trailing behind Englend. Denny followed behind. They all had armfuls of wood. From what I saw, little would be useful, but I kept that to myself.
Englend came up the deck and handed me the handle. I took a long pull. As I drank, I looked up into the stars, which were now out and shining brighter than they were before. A cloud had moved, wavered off somewhere, presenting the gifts that were behind it. I lowered the bottle and watched Denny and Kat walk up the stairs. They were smiling.
"What are you two so happy about?" I asked, handing Denny the whiskey.
"Gimme' that!" Kat snagged it out of my hand, laughing. She took a long pull. Denny, Englend, and I watched, amazed that little hippy Kat could take such a heavy shot.
"Good God," I murmured.
"She drinks like a pirate," said Denny.
"A ****** pirate," added Englend.
Kat was especially small. Not a small person small, but petite. She also had a great *** and could out drink, out party, and out do the rest of us in debaucherous shenanigans. She had never heard of the word or feeling of shame either and did, really, whatever the hell she felt like.
"I heard that you *******," she said, exhaling, blinking her eyes wildly.
"That was a biggun'," Denny said, taking the bottle and pulling it.
"Needed it. Englend had us wandering around the ******* forest for firewood the minute we got here."
"Do we even need any?" I asked.
"Course we do!" Englend exclaimed, "Gotta' keep our ladies warm!"
He put his arm around Kat and shook her.
"Gross..." Kat frowned, her face pickling while she squirmed out of his arms.
"You love it Kat...where's Patty? Where's my babe!?" Englend thundered off into the house.
"I'm right here," Patty squealed. She was still on the couch with Carrie. She kicked her feet crazily as Englend jumped on her. Carrie jumped off just before he cannon balled onto the couch.
"You guys are SICK!" Carrie screamed.
"You love it," they both said in unison. The two of them play wrestled until Patty finally got Englend by the ***** and kissed him.
Denny handed Kat the bottle," You want another?" he asked.
"I'm good, Denny," she said.
"Hank?" He asked me.
"I'll take one, yeah," I said. I pulled it back as Kat went inside. I exhaled and looked at Denny, "So, you and Kat are the only two legitimate single people here. How you feel about that?"
"Hopeful," he said.
"That's good to hear. I'll see what Carrie can do."
"Sweet," he said nervously.
"Let's get inside. Patty made some burgers."
"Thank God," Denny sighed, shaking his head, "I'm ******* starving. Englend had us walking for ******' miles.
"No idea why. We have plenty of wood downstairs."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. Lots of it. I cut a bunch the last time I was here."
"******," he laughed, "Englend told us were out."
"He doesn't know what he's talking about," I said. We walked into the kitchen. I put the bottle down next to Carrie, who had made her way from the couch back into the kitchen. She looked at the bottle, then at me.
"What you drinking there?" she asked me looking at the bottle.
"Whiskey," I told her.
"Can you not drink so much?" she whispered so no one could hear her.
"I'm good," I said, taking her hand, "I just drank a little bit outside while I was waiting for Englend. They went on a wild goose chase for firewood."
"Good."
"Denny was telling me they went all over for the stuff."
"Why?" she smiled, "We have so much from the last time we were up."
"That's what I was telling Englend, but he didn't care. Guy gets antsy."
"Who's antsy?" Englend called from the couch. Patty was wrapped up in his eyes, looking drunk from the single shot Carrie and I had given her. Kat was on the couch with a beer. Denny was hovering by the door, rocking back and forth on his heels still holding an armful of fire wood.
"Why don't you just leave that by the door?" I told Denny, "Take a seat. Stay a while."
He dropped the firewood by the side of the front door and took a seat on the floor in front of the fireplace by Kat. He looked up at her and smiled, but she didn't notice. She was sipping her beer, rummaging around in her pocket for something.
"What I was saying was that you guys didn't need to get anymore firewood or kindling or whatever the hell you guys got because we have a lot from the last time Carrie and I were up."
"I saw those logs," said Englend, "And they're ******* twigs compared to what we got!"
Everyone laughed.
"Well," I said, opening the fridge for another beer (I wasn't sure where my other one had gone to), "I'm not taking the **** down."
"All good, we'll take it down."
"You'll take it down," said Kat, "We had to walk through half of the ******* forest to get to your secret wood spot, then walk back. I'm finished with wood for now."
"Fine," Englend moaned, "I'll take it down in the morning."
"I'll help you," Denny added.
"Good! We got two big guys to do it. It'll be done in no time."
I turned around and opened up the cabinet that was filled with shot glasses. I took six out, put them on the table, and filled them with whiskey.
"Let's take a group shot before we all start getting snuggly and sleepy."
"Great idea!" Englend shouted, popping up from the couch.
"For America!" Patty giggled, following Englend.
Kat helped Denny from the floor and walked over to the counter. They parted hands when Denny was on his feet, but I could tell he wouldn't mind holding her hand for the duration of the trip.
"I'm glad to have you all here," I said, "Glad we could do this."
Everyone nodded, smiling, holding their golden brown shots in the air.
"For America," I said.
"For America!" the rest of them yelled. We soaked in the glory of fine whiskey and hazy conversation for the rest of the night.
Everyone was moving slow in the morning. Englend seemed to be the most up out of everyone. I walked into the kitchen to him whipping 12 eggs, grating cheese, pan frying potatoes, bubbling coffee, and pouring orange juice into mimosa flutes. The champagne was already out. I thought, a little alcohol will probably do me some good. It did. After my third glass, I kissed Carrie when she groggily walked into the living room. She preceded to slump onto the couch. I brought her a cup coffee and some Advil. She smiled meekly into my glazed over, blood shot eyes. I could tell she was hurting, but she would be right in a couple hours. Once we got into the river, all would be right.
"Jesus," said Carrie, "You guys are already drinking?"
"Of course!" Englend laughed, "It's the fourth and it's already noon. We're behind if anything."
"And Englend made breakfast," I said.
"I can see th
Poetic T Feb 2016
Years had past since PTD's cases, all was now
Play and fun. But the little man missed
The chase of what could be found
Mysteries,
Riddles,
Enigmas
Of what was hidden from view. He was
A bright young fellow now
Six years old.
Words are longer as gurgles faded into
Memories past thoughts. He had come
Home to mummy,

"How's my little man,

"I have a loose toothy peg Mummy,

"Well no playing,
"As we don't want it lost for the tooth fairy,

So little man played with his cars
"Brummmm,
Brrruuumm,
Screecchhhh,
"That was close the baddies nearly caught us,

He played till it started to get dark, then heard
His mummy calling from down stairs.

"Little man time to get ready for bed sweet heart,

"Ok mummy I'm changing now,

A jumper did fly socks also too,
Trousers flew in the air landing waist
Side up on his head too.
Jester
Clown
Fun
Times of an imagination as he runs around.
But in to jimjams he must now do,
his favourite ones were
Captain Carrot Space Ranger.
He has all the books reading them to sleep
His favourite story before he slumbers in to dreams.

~Captain Carrots Space Race~

Trix sat in his comfy seat, his friends
All waiting for his words of as the race was
Set in the dust nebula
 Atria
Its dark in space only stars glitter.
But in the dust cloud it was like rainbows blossomed
A light show of the universal beauty.


Right my fluffiest friends its time to launch.
       3
  2
1
Rockets ignited and away they went,
Captain Trix was nibbling on a cucumber stick.
Then from no where the naughty
  Cat Captain Frost
Bashed and knocked at their ship, and off the
Race course they fell. They tumbled into a pocket of

Darkest space. Captain its  dark  in here, the lights
Faded and all was dark.
  Trix  could hear teeth chattering.

Be calm my friends, there is nothing scary in the shadows.
Take out your carrot coins, and nibble, chew,
And with that, once finger licked and all was chomped
All that was heard was trix voice, right can we all
See? yes captain carrot vison is a go.


They set a course out of this darkest place and
Out they popped into normal space, colours gleamed
As they saw they were in last place.
Rockets burst into action and they flew in
And out, weaving through the clouds
One pasted, two pasted, three pasted
Now they were in second place.


Who should be in first place naughty  Captain Frost
He had a coat as white as snow. but that was
As far as his niceness did go. He was a naughty
Kitty and everyone did know.
Sir he is blocking our path, we cant get through
Ok secret decoy time fluffy friends.

           3
     2
1
Cats attention set adrift sir, and into space it wondered,
In sight of Captain Frosts view. Out came the holding
Claws, and the space wool did bobble and excitement
Was the pleasure of kitties day. While they entertained
Themselves, Captain Trix did glide on past.
Full speed ahead as they race past the finish line.


Yawns were the calling of the night as the story
Ended as eyes blinked soon to be shut

"Mummy Captain Carrot [Trix] won the race,

"Yes he did darling and that's why meanies are always last,
"Sweet dreams my baby now off to sleep,

The night drew on as eyes slept through, and little
Mans dreams were of carrots and rabbits
That whizzed through the night sky, ZOOM.
Morning broke through his curtains and
Yawns did come and go. Slippers were
On as cold it felt, and downstairs
He wondered dressing gown and all.

"Mummy what's for breakfast?
"Was that me Mummy?

"Open wide little man, goodness me....,
"There is a gap where there should be a tooth?

"O' no I have a missing toothy peg,
"***** trained detective is on the case,
"I think I may need a new name?
"Junior Trained Detective,
"No that's not right does ring true?
"Buddy The Trained Detective.

"That's the nickname you gave me mummy,

"That's excellent little man, I love your choice,

His mummy smiles and gives him a hug and
Kisses his forehead, they search under his pillow
"Nope? Mmmm... may have to get out the cap
And magnifying glass -o

"Mummy this is too small for me?

"Don't worry little man I thought this day may come,

Out of a box she pulls his new hat out, he tries it
On, perfectly it fits on his head and his detective
Days have started again. Fist my bedroom under
The pillow I will seek my tooth be it here or there.
But pillow case removed quilt removed o' so slowly
For a tooth we don't want to lose it, but nothing appeared.

"One place now searched with a keen eye,
"Now so many other places for it to hide,

He thought of where a tooth would place hide and
Seek from its home in the mouth, under the
Bed he thought.Torch in hand he wiggled under
The wooden from and what we he see but his
Car that vanished quite a while ago, I wondered
Where that went? a sweet, a pen, a coin for the piggybank.

"Mummy its not under or over the bed,
"I looked hard, but no where can it be found,

Little man was frustrated at the thought that the
Tooth fairy would not be rewarded with a tooth.
Right let me think? he thought of that night, it
Was their in bed, when story time was read.
It was their when mummy give him a kiss goodnight.
In the morning it was gone

"Captain Carrot,
"Trix where are you,
This is no time for hide and seek,

He found him tucked in his quilt, sleeping soundly.
"There you are sorry to wake you,
He looked in his hair "Nope not there,
Looked in his tail it was white and fluffy
"Nope not there,
He thought once again? if he were
Captain Carrot where would he keep his
Best friends tooth safe if it feel out in dreamy sleep.

A smile etched across Buddies face at the thought of
Where he would keep it safe for him.
In his little fingers did search around, and then
A little white rock, no a tooth was found.
Captain Trix had kept it safe in his uniform pocket.

"Mummy, mummy,
"The case Is solved I found my tooth,
"Detective work solves a puzzling case again,

"Where was it my little man?

"Captain Carrot had it snuggly warm in his space rucksack,

"That's fantastic,
"Now where does a tooth now found go,

She smiles rubbing his hair, off to his bedroom
He runs tooth proudly in hand.
Lifting his pillow he gently places it with pride
In the place where the tooth fairy could easily
Reach and find. Leaving a special present for this
Little boy who had found his missing toothy peg.

"I think I may keep this cap,
*"Let Buddy the trained detective solve cases again soon,
Annika J Dec 2018
Somedays I get the urge to just snuggle something
Preferably someone
To be close
To be emotional
To be connected

People aren’t very snuggly
I’m an exception

Since no one else is snuggly
I just have to curl up by myself
And say I want to be alone
When in reality
I crave intimacy
Nicole Oct 2014
Coral leaflets sway through my attention, singing with the wind's path. Lemon accents separate as sting rays of warmth and light swim toward the earth. 88 degrees tickle my skin as small beads begin to perch upon my brow, patiently, until they join the body of crisp bits between myself and the trees around. Or it may simply evaporate into the embrace of Autumn.
Above, black veins creep through the lemon and coral maze, snuggly holding onto their nestlings, ready at any moment to let them fly.
This is only a start to a piece based on a picture prompt.
Kimberly Feb 2018
She was music and he was mathematics- without one, the two would not exist.  
He was light and she was love and their energies intertwined and intermingled to form a helix of ecstacy and consciousness...
their combined energies rivaled that of an atomic bomb.
Feminine and masculine,
Right brain and left brain...
Simultaneously hard and soft
smooth and rough
Calming and chaotic.
She was fire to his water, but he never sought to put out her flames.
When they finally came together physically and their eyes met, colors of a psychedelic sort exploded around them
And the universe held its breath in anticipation of their consummation...
and every piece fit more snuggly together than the pieces of an old familiar jigsaw puzzle...
This couldn't have been the first time that they had met...
well, maybe in this lifetime.

~KiCo the Conqueror
#TwinFlame
Pierre Ray Mar 2012
Consisting of grown, persisting as shown and unknown. Insisting entities, rivalries and sworn enemies! Deformed, forewarned, formed, informed, mourned, performed, reformed and scorned. Dates of great storms! Family tree of hate, horns and thorns. My family tree of gore, horror, more, poor and sore. Perhaps of mishaps galore. Briefly sit

back! I’ll roughly take you back… Heck! Back to a time of attack,
blacks, slacks and whacks. My family tree of practical, tactical, methodical Aztec. Some beckon and reckon in seconds. A family tree of crime, grime and rhyme. A nation of communication, dedication,
dissemination, motivation and procrastination. The splendor of sin

of my corruptive, disruptive kin. They rely more on the color of one’s
skin. My family tree of abuse and misuse that misuses and seduces! Family tree of warfare and welfare legalities, moralities and family-prodigies. Picture this scriptural twist! Some assist on a kiss. I insist
some are idealities in social technicalities. Alcoholics, diabetics,

******, exotic, fantastic, Catholics, eccentric, horrific and poetic. I persist… some gnomes, some roam, some in poems, some with no homes. My family tree of adventuresome, awesome, handsome and troublesome. My family tree of beautiful and bountiful! Some are a
handful some handicap some locally and vocally-rap. Some slap,

gift-wrap and yap! Some are snuggly, pretty, witty or ugly. In my family tree, some crippled, some with pimples, some with freckles
and some that heckle. Some belittle and little, some wrinkled and old. Some are bold and pray to the lord! Some are Frio, meaning cold we
were told. Some I say, are poor with no Amor. Some are here no more, in my family tree of Amor.
Kara Jean Jul 2016
The freshes essence let's off a scent
A fragrance bold and fearless
Dumb and numb
Hopes higher then an egos design
Hold your breath
Here they come
A backpack harnessed snuggly, full of broken dreams and low self esteem
A misplaced jaw and no bra
They may look unfit
Don't be mistaken
The world is for the taking
Alice Butler Nov 2013
There's a funny sort of emptiness
that passes over me
as I walk past the paperback erotica that tuck themselves away
in the shelves of the local grocery store in places that are
simultaneously completely out in the open yet completely ignored
looking, as I do, with mock casual interest
and unfeigned disdain.
Who are these intended for, really?
Are they for the snuggly-wuggly, *****, cozy-woozy, wishy-washy and warm family of four
comparing chicken nugget prices and
weighing the health benefits of
vegetable medley versus succotash?
Or are they for the uni flatmates
walking huddled together for warmth or protection or both,
seeing as they're wearing only sandals and denim shorts
and this is the first time
they've been grocery shopping without mum,
that giggle loudly together to mask how homesick they really are
while they compare the calories in
Campbell's versus Progresso.
They went with Progresso if you were wondering.
Or are they meant for those who are cooking for one?
For those who have no need to compare prices
or calories
out loud.
For those who are well acquainted
with the old, familiar tiled aisles
as they have no one to take out to dinner.
Is this where they are to find company?
Betwixt the pages of a badly penned,
lighter than marshmallows,
more shallow than the kiddie pool,
more transparent than Casper,
not-good-enough-to-be-******-compost
"literary" garbage?
Is this -assumed- female
supposed to curl up with one of these slabs of drivel
and feel **** and aroused
in her baggy sweats and ill-fitting hoodie
after she ate a microwaveable chicken *** pie all by her lonesome?
As a single girl who often cooks for one,
I am offended by this.
Personally,
I think Lestat is ten times sexier than Edward,
Salai is way cuter than Fabio,
and Christian Grey couldn't S Mr. Rochester's D.
What I'm saying is-
Grocery Stores.
YOU are the primary reason for this pathetic f-ckery.
Everything else in the store can be compared for quality.
So why not apply that same knowledge
to the book arena.
Signed,
A Concerned Shopper
p.s. Please extend the validity date on the chicken *** pie coupon. Thank you!
Seriously considering sending this to my local grocery store.
Makayla Jane Dec 2018
I like the feeling of tight sports bras
To hide what little I have
And to make me feel secure

I like the feeling of tight sleeping bags wrapped around me
To hold me
And to make me feel like someone else holds me as I rest

I like the feeling of tight cozy jackets and sweaters
To soothe my soul
And to make me feel snuggly

I like the feeling of wires, ropes, and belts wrapped tightly around my throat
To cut off my circulation
And to watch my face turn a nice dark red-purple
Honest feelings.
Feel free to share revision ideas :)
Alyanne Cooper May 2014
He was the perfect height for her.
Tall enough that her head fell
Right tight under his sculpted chin
But not so tall that he was called "giant".

She was the perfect shape for him.
Not so skinny that he worried
About breaking her bones with a hug,
But curvy in all the places
That made him say a throaty "whoa".

She was a bookworm who loved TV.
He was a chef who loved Mac and Cheese.
They both adored animals,
Though he might have loved reptiles just a little too much.
And they both hated politics,
Though she might have set fire
To one too many campaign signs.

They argued about music, money, and kids.
They debated the merits of dancing in the rain.
They held hands in the moonlight,
And kissed at midday.
They grew old together and never strayed
Too far from the home they had built.

Then one day his chin wasn't high enough
For her head to fit snuggly below.
Her dresses, though comely,
No longer made him say "whoa".

But they still held hands and kissed
And remembered the days of their youth
When they were still learning
What being perfect for each other meant.

It wasn't until the night her heart gave out,
That she realized how he was perfect for her.
It wasn't his charm and dashing good looks,
Or his witty retorts and clever touchés,
But the simple fact
That through all of the years,
He loved her,
And that made him perfect for her.

It wasn't until she took her last breath,
That he understood how perfect she'd been.
She was perfect not because of her curves,
Her smile, her laugh, or her intelligence.
She was perfect for him because she loved him.

They'd been perfect in each other's eyes
Because love is blind.
And sometimes that's not a bad thing.
francesca Jan 2017
i wonder how you do it
how the words can slip so easily from your chapped lips
how your mouth wraps around the vowels and the consonants so snuggly
as if your mouth was made for that purpose and that purpose only

****. *****.

i wonder how you can say  these words
without the slightest hint of remorse
no guilt in your tone
no regret in your voice
void of all emotion except scorn
hatred

do these words **** ***** ***** harlot scarlet woman roll off your tongue
as easily as your glory bes your hail marys your our fathers

does your hatred come as easy as saying your amens?
Ben Jones Dec 2013
There lived, amid the common folk
A seamstress of renown
Tucked away most smartly
In a quiet sort of town
So perfect was her needlework
And delicate her hand
That all and sundry sought her out
Her skills were in demand

To gain a moment here and there
She took a silver thread
She deftly put a stitch in time
And curled up in her bed
For she was such a busy girl
Deserving of a nap
But as she slept one evening
The stitch in time went 'snap!'

Time unravelled rapidly
From 'will be' to 'before'
And coils of causality
Were all over the floor
But fortune is a canny dame
For a needle was at hand
Still threaded up with silver
At an artisan's command

She bustled in a flurry
And rummaged through the ages
She sorted out the centuries
With diligence, by stages
While shoring up the borderlines
And patching up the wars
She darned the holes in spider silk
And trimmed the dinosaurs

She hemmed the mighty oceans
To snuggly fit the sand
Then zipped up the horizon
So the sky adjoined the land
The night was stitched in situ
In between adjacent days
And time was mended seamlessly
And better in some ways

She locked away her needle
And her strand of silver thread
Her work would wait 'til morning
And with that, she went to bed
So next time life is hectic
And leaves you in a flap
Allow yourself an hour
For a cheeky little nap
The Tie is a bib for men.
For different sorts of messes.
No longer exclusively dribble and bile.
Yes, we may use them for mornings
after our red solo sippy cups
time machine us neanderthal.
But men also have other messes to bib tie.

Like:
friendly faces at work.
not friendly faces at work.
faces on ex's at work.
Ex's faces on not friendly faces and other various places at work.

Men bib tie their feelings.
Or at least that's the media stressed norm.
Men can also not bib tie their feelings
Or bib tie the wrong feelings.
bib tie love when it's wrong to feel it.
Bib tie love when it hurts to feel it.
Bib tie their opinions
when speaking to people who disagree
Bib tie the need to look, only...
Touch, just...
Grab, just
Have, just
Use, just....
Put it in the bib tie.
Stuff it right in there.
That's where all your messes go now.

At a funeral, men do not use their bib Tie as Hankie
They let their tears fall.
Bib ties are not tissues.
You do not simply wipe up your mess with a bib tie.

Put the pain inside it
At the end of the day
You take it off.

Put the used up bib tie in patchwork briefcase under bed.
Passed down by fathers.
Full of generations of used up bib ties.
Like ***** dream catchers.

Knotted hands and looped desire.
fastened snuggly into their folds.

If only more men wore Ties.
KILLME Feb 2014
pretty and pink
she's a princess
as she struts up and down the rows

what she'll pick,
mommy doesn't know

will it be the new
holiday barbie doll

or the shiny Nerf gun
to shoot her brother, Paul.

no!

Its the wonderful stuffed
teddy-pus.

the mega tough protector
who isn't a wuss.

he keeps kids safe
chases the monsters away

with his snuggly tentacles and big fluffy ears
he provides brighter days

now whenever
she's feeling really sad,

Teddy-pus makes things
seem not so bad.
Inspired by my best friend who was trying to cheer me up c:
love that girl <3
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
When I was young high school kid
I wasn’t doing very well with girls
I didn’t know what to say to them
But I really wanted to give it a whirl.
So, when Mama saw me struggling
She saw me blowing my chance
She told me, “They’ll come around,
All you have to do is learn to dance.”

So, she showed me some rather easy
Stylish steps from her jitterbug days
I took them and danced to the music
That the deejays chose to play.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And that helped quite a bit
She won awards as a teen
I heard she was quite a hit.

I rocked and I rolled and bounced
My shoes got to moving with the beat.
Then I was snapping my fingers and
My body went along with my feet.
I twirled the girls I danced with and
Held them snuggly up close and tight.
And the girls started asking me to dance
Right away from that very first night.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And I very glad she did
It turned a geeky wallflower
Into a much more popular kid.

I learned the Stroll and Hully Gully
The UT and the Electric Slide
With a changing bevy of beauties
Dancing along right by my side.
This was before Twist showed up
Which everybody could learn to do
But even then I found that I could
Teach them another trick or two.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And that helped quite a bit
She won awards as a teen
I heard she was quite a hit.
MaryJane Doe Jul 2015
No matter
the weather
Rain
Or shine
With a blankie
Its better
With a blankie
It's fine

You rarely
Find Riley
At a tea party
With out
the security
Of her snuggly
blankie

This blankie
is special
Introduction
Necessity
Hello Riley
"My blankie"

Morning
To night
Never
Out of sight
Riley
loves her blankie
Always
holds it tight

Someday
She'll grow up
And forget
What it was
But we'll always know
It was something
she loved
Methy Architabel Dec 2010
how my cell-mate loved me
i miss him now and then
i am finally on the outside
but he's doing five to ten.

i met him in the lunch room
he followed to the yard
and when he brushed against me
i felt something really hard.

don't be shy he told me
i'll treat you right, you'll see
and then he whispered nothings
while making love to me.

how my cell-mate loved me
let me count the ways
i love his big house nickname
they call him Bubba J

Bubba is a big boy
and really hairy too
if **** rugs are what you love
then he's the one for you.

He is a big bad tough guy
until he is alone
and then he is a teddy bear
I love to make him moan.

He is so soft and snuggly
he is my ******* coo
he hates for me to call him that
as a tough guy he'd be thru.

he is like putty in my hands
for sure when i am done
but at the start he is so hard
at least until he ****

if he gives me sass
i smack his *** and send him to his bunk
i am the boss of this sweet pair
and I treat him like a punk.

he stands real tall when free time comes
and fear is felt by all
but he looks up when facing me
and i'm just five feet tall.

i am the tough guy it turns out
and he is just a queen
i love him and he loves me
he's the best i've ever seen.

too bad i'm here and he is there
i think i'll rob a store
then i'll be back in with him again
and have sweet love once more.
Kate Dempsey Jan 2011
I sat there staring at her from across the table
as we shared yet another quiet meal together,
observations buzzing around in my already crowded mind.
Her face looked clean and resheshed,
her hair soft and coifed and freshly washed,
her white gloves unstained and clamped snuggly
around her slender arms.
Would she noticed my threadbare coat,
the circles underneath my tired eyes,
the cloth cap that used to sit upon my head?
Was I truly good enough for her?
Her smile said yes, but the condescending
grimaces on the faces of her parents upstairs said
no.
I didn’t need to see them to know that they were there.
I just knew it. I just knew.
How discouraging.
I looked at her, watching her silently from across the table,
eating with one hand
and fumbling the lump in my pocket,
running my fingers over it,
meditating whether or not I was foolish enough
to claim her,
whether or not I was selfish enough
to want her to be mine.
I was a narcissist to even think of it.
What would her parents say?
I bit my lip and pulled the parcel out,
summoning her attention toward my hand,
eyes glowing with curiosity and anticipation.
I stood up, but paused.
Just say “Will you marry me?”
It’s that easy. Only four words. Just say it!
As I opened the box with numb fingers,
I began to stutter the words,
like my humble tongue had been enchanted with some
kind of curse.
Cowardice.
I slid the parcel back into my pocket,
having been defeated without even having fought.
The look in her eyes shifted and it took me a moment
to fully process what was going through my
beloved’s head.
As she slowly returned to her meal,
I recognized it as disappointment.
Somehow, the feeling was mutual.
copyright Kate Dempsey 2011

Eh, this one's not so great.
Emiko Hernandez May 2013
Often, the worlds starts to dim at the edges and I realize that I forgot to breath.
You were passage to my lungs and allowed oxygen into my blood.

At times, I forget what I look like--assuming I'm a cross between a troll and a haggard witch.
You were my mirror reflecting bright lights so the glare of the glass could blind me to imperfections.

I frequently don't know what to say when a sarcastic teacher howls into my ear.
You were my voice, powerful and sure.

Sometimes, I get light headed and shaky with an empty tummy angered by my neglect.
You were my mother, calling me to supper.

What I never had to think about before, now, seems so difficult.
Someone changed the controls and the instructions are in Korean.
What are these symbols? I can't even google them because the keys to my laptop don't have any of those shapes.
It wouldn't matter anyway because it seems to be melded shut.
Maybe my hands are weak because you were my strength.

Life without you is easy--simple.

But I've forgotten how to live this way.
Like a 49 year old man in his 16 year old daughter's math class. The class he had once taken and passed with flying colors now is nothing but nonsense.

Even after 2 years of being away from you, I long to know you once more.

Unfortunately we're not pieces of the same puzzle anymore.
Or perhaps we never were?

Maybe that's why we clashed over and over. Repeating the process until I was tossed aside.

Your world is full and complete while I lie on a banana peel at the bottom of a ******* bin.

It pains me to see your picture finally completed and to know it was I who stopped production.
Next to you are spaces already filled in. I search for somewhere I can lie snuggly in.

No where. As I lay in the garbage I whisper , "It's not supposed to be like this."
Elizz Aug 2018
I can thread it through my fingers
Running it in between my fingers
Going over the material of events
Perpetually stargazing what went wrong
Maybe because we were both Scorpios
That's why it didn't work out
Our stingers would both fight for supremacy never getting along
I was always debating every possibility every wrong turn every right turn
Hell even the left turns and the right turns and the U turns
I always wanted to have a plan A
And C
And B
And Z
But I know that even with all of my plans I still had the main plan to love you
So much so
That I loved you better than I ever loved my cracked reflection
The lines spreading out from my eyes
Grazing my throat like a choker that always fit too snuggly
Seeing you is like seeing a quicksilver flash
Just pain and happiness holding hands and dancing in a circle
Making love in sweet July rain
You were always the crashing thunder
I was always the lighting
Illuminating what you never wanted to show me
Because you put me in a glass case
Not because you thought I was delicate
Too delicate for this world
Or because I was a shining object graced by time
You were putting me behind that door
So when you walked away I wouldn't be able to follow
Locked away to be stared at whenever
Avoided after
But I think you forgot
We both kinda forgot
That lighting strikes back
And when I finally got fed up with your ****
I destroyed that glass case
And handed you your *** and never gave you what you wanted
Which was funnily enough
Me
But I was tired of that and I got exhausted from always putting you first
So I decided to break it
And yes
It cut deep
But after everything I've seen
Those shimmering shards that drew my blood
Used it as paint on yet another one of life's canvases
Was worth it
So take as much as you need
Robert Ippaso Jan 2022
Cozy, snuggly, curled up tight
People think I'm sleeping, but that is far from being right,
With one eye open, the other tightly shut
I plough the very trade refined by every cat.
Quiet adoration amongst the whispered sighs
For this wonderful creation, nature's wily prize.
And all the while I'm lounging, perched upon my throne
Surveying my domain from this place I call home.
I'm fed and duly watered, patted when I wish,
My life a constant slumber, something I call Bliss,
As to these poor humans, scurrying around
Their feet so often frantic, they barely touch the ground,
The one piece of advice I freely choose to give,
Is simply look at me and learn from how I live!
Amanda Miller Feb 2015
Burgundy tassels sway in June water  
Resting among chartreuse vegetation.  
Ebbing with the current, a crustacean
Advances to pinch tanned toes. My daughter
Thinks nothing of it as she contently
Hovers among the playful fish kissing  
Each passion-fruit patch of sundress, baring
Delicate flesh beneath.  She was lovely  

And mine. Seven years have passed, yet her voice
Resonates in my memories, enshrined.
“Let’s go swimming, Daddy.” Love as my vice,
I gave in. The ocean, blue as star-lined
Nights, beckoned her closer, starfish snuggly
Grabbed her, an infinite bride of the sea.
Cadence Musick Jul 2013
the light drips through my window
a solemn moment wrapped
snuggly about me.
alone
as a desert cactus
cradled in the losses of failed efforts.
i do try, you know
but alas here i am
alone
Mr Bigglesworth Mar 2013
Sitting out on the porch with grandma, talking about winters past
Sitting out on the porch with grandma, wishing the summer would last
I remember when I would fit under her arm, as snuggly as she now fits mine
I remember when she would watch over me, I remember when she was just fine
But now it is her that is childish, now it is her that needs me
I will not judge, I will not scold, I will just let it be, let it be

For sometimes, she sits real quiet,
and says............'nothing'.........but sometimes that says it all!
Lynne Aug 2015
The rain comes as a shock
to the dry Texas land

The soil can no longer remember
a time where its thirst was quenched.

The hills are painted with clear intentions
and the earth smells of a fresh upheaval.

The roots dig profoundly into the planet
and extend from below to the cosmos above.

Awakened, within the terra firma,
a seraph reaches up into the leaves
and caresses the lush branches.

How long it has been
since the being could attain
and comprehend
the artistry of this world.

At the touch of life,
the being steps out
of its transcendental state unlocked from

her chains
of depleted soil.

She is cautious to be held in the bough.
But a flower blooms merely at her gaze
and obsequiously transitions from colorless
to the deepest amethyst ever beheld by eyes.

Down it comes, drenching the forest,
spreading its nourishment.
Small crystals appearing as tears
brighten the cheeks of the seraph's smile.

Color
rushes into her skin and she appears
to blossom
in her comfort and confidence,
mirroring that flower.

Snuggly she rests her seasoned heart
within the boughs she's only just
begun to fathom and question.

Is this renaissance ephemeral?
Even if it is, this,
this child of the earth knows the rain
is a feeling – and it's ineffable.
Char Blackmon Jan 2019
My laid back in the back seat
This is all she
A small town woman like me
She sticks to me
Solid untouchable
With a tangible touch
See and read into my mind
Meditating on a combustion gust
Spiraling down the knowledge grove
Wanting peace, love and improve
Mention unity
Brung upon nature
Distracted by our rollercoaster
Wrapped warmth snuggly memories
Peace, time and the ability to give everything
Missing words of you n me
-SharChar-
I remember seventh grade
When life was wisping by
I remember how full my
Heart was
And how naive I was
I remember the fall leaves
Slowly dancing around us
Falling,Falling
I remember how
Peaceful it all was
And I remember how
Hard I'd scream and laugh
Whenever you gave me those hugs
Those amazing hugs
As though I was wrapped
In a snuggly cocoon
I remember how fun it was
To be your best friend
And how I loved you more
Each and every day
I remember our snowball fights
And how we laughed
I remember that mound of snow
And how I felt a spark when
Our faces neared and
Our eyes lingered
I remember running to your arms
With my declaration of love
And my acceptance to the idea of us
I remember the rain just two days after
The most beautiful drizzle
I have ever seen
And I remember running my hand
Across that pipe
Smiling knowing what was coming
It wasn't just my stomach with butterflies
It was all of me from head to toe
I remember sitting on the step facing you
And how a tap kiss scared me
And more made me jump back
And the most romantic thing
I'll ever know
Is when I said I couldn't out of fear
And you whispered "I know"
As you slid closer and kissed me
So passionately
I remember you and I
Falling in love
I didn't let you go
Because on that day
On all those days
You proved to me you,
You were worth fighting for
Your always worth fighting for.
I know you hate when I remember
But I remember the good and ignore and forget the bad
I remember all those things that made me smile
I loved you then just as I love you now
I hope you forgive me for my reminiscing
But these were special moments in our foundation
I love you for all these things and more
You've made me so happy
I hope you never forget that.
Poetic T Jul 2016
Little shell how you hold tight a home away
from home, fitting snuggly as you slowly gradually
take upon the world one movement at a time,
never in a hurry to get yourself there.

You draw upon your surroundings, palette of
silver in the travels of here to there.
That little shell you collect yourself within, when
tiredness takes hold. Resting your tired self in bed.

Awoken and on the move you take on your journey,
the trails left yesterday. Behind they are, so forward
you do go with a casual look and off you go.
Little one a journey of a lifetime a garden you walk by.

"Daddy look there is a silver trail,

"That's a snails trail petal,

"It shiny daddy.

"Its so they don't get lost, like breadcrumbs in
the woods, so they know where they crawled before.


In the grass a journey still calmly slithers on,
This forest of grass taller than even the shell that
he carries upon his little back. Unseen by those above
but he worries not he just gradually slithers on.
Amir Jan 2012
me:  its just that
i walk passed you
sleeping so peaceful like
in the breeze of the fan
middle of winter chicago
my windows open
maybe i do burn a little warm
and i look at you
as i walk passed
and your all snuggled up
you're like
tucked in
all
snuggly
in them blanket
and i'm just saying
i walk by
look upons you
with the eyes i have in my skull
and see your closed ones
all within your own skull
and i'm all'thinking on who you are
thinking about whats in that brain
and all withins
and my look
upons
and so then, i'm like
what a good one
ya know
and so
The flicker of fabric among our intertwined bodies.
How could something so faultless
Like the missing key, snuggly fitting my chest
Possibly be wrong?

Please hold me closer one last time.
Let me smell your ebbing love
That makes every hair on my body reach on end.

Just one last time, run your fingers through my hair
Like claws catching me again, and again.
Tell me to come nearer, and wrap your mind around me.

Don’t forget these extensions of us.

Before I know it, we will return to our posts—
Averting our eyes as we watch the world dance
And we struggle just to hold ourselves.
Kate Livesay Jan 2021
In today's world, it is quite simple to be caught up in your worth being represented by a numerical value. Let me explain:

I am a nine-digit (quite confidential) numerical value that the government rewarded me with (thank you, Teddy Roosevelt!) from the moment my little feet entered life from my mother’s warm, snuggly inside.
I am a whopping one thousand, two hundred forty as my fingers tear through a solemn envelope sent from the college board, just moments before the envelope and the information enclosed within was shredded in every which direction to approximately one thousand, six hundred pieces.
I am one of two hundred eighty-five people rushing through the ancient, wooden doors at eight fifty-nine on Sunday morning. I am one of two hundred eighty-five people, just another member of the congregation, as I humbly fold my hands together, attempting to wash away all I have done wrong in the past six days.
I am seven as my mother places her comforting hand on my trembling body as she swiftly guides me in the direction of a grim, tense waiting room of a children's neurologist. I am eight as I place my ear up against my blue room, as the thin walls between the rooms try to conceal the hushed voices of my mother and my father discussing medication to treat severe anxiety.
I am a twenty-four as my squeaky sneakers frolic on a slender wooden surface of what we call “home court”. I am an eleven as my coach and I fretfully record my cumulative points during the final moments of the season; his disappointment being reflected by deep breaths every now and then as we are drearily restricted by four grotesque walls that define his productivity.
I am one of ninety-one works of literature that my english teacher manages to read and assign, you guessed it, another value to; the combination of letters and symbols printed on a sheet of paper somehow translates to a number.


I think you get the point. But let me clarify, there’s more to the story:

I am valued for encasing myself in red, white, and blue in early July as the sun begins to hide behind the earth; the chemical reactions of potassium nitrate and sulfur dominate the sky.
I am valued for my worthy efforts put into preparing for a five-hour tedious saturday morning dedicated to staring at a scantron and the backs of people’s heads.
I am valued knowing that I was born to sin (thanks, Adam and Eve), as I was made exceptionally in the image of god.
I am valued for being an anxious person who lovingly worries incessantly about family, friends, the future of females, and my fate.
I am valued as I launch my legs, one in front of the other, down the slick, wooden court to retrieve a lost ball that my teammate didn’t put in effort to catch.
I am valued for my honest, hard-working efforts to produce a conversation on paper between my english teacher and me. Hopefully this does the same.


I am not a value. I am valued.
Andrea May 2016
do you want to know where i got these scars?*

"i have no idea. they were just /there/." my mother merely traced the fading lines on my pale skin and frowned.

"i must have scratched it somewhere." i offered as assurance and she agreed, the topic dropping as quickly as she dropped my hand.

do you want to know where i got these scars?

"i fell down the stairs." i blurted out, panicking at the question. it was the most unconvincing answer in all the history of self-harm, but what was a girl to do in the case of sudden confrontation?

my friends (god bless their souls) nodded and turned away their gazes. "those are awfully symmetrical for an accident," one murmured once she thought i was out of earshot, and it took everything within me not to turn around and yell at her for calling me out on my feeble fib.

do you want to know where i got these scars?

"my cat scratched me."
"you don't have a cat."
"oh, ****. did i say 'my' cat? i meant a wild cat. jumped at me out of nowhere. crazy, right?"

she shook her head. "if you're going to lie, at least make it convincing." she advised, and i shrugged.

do you want to know where i got these scars?

"i had to fight off my monsters." i wiggled my eyebrows, tugging my jacket sleeve a little more snuggly around my wrist. "i'm sure you did," she humored me before turning serious. "you can always enlist me to fight them with you."

i didn't know what to say.

do you want to know where i got these scars?

"cold nights and even colder razor blades."

she nodded and passed me the bottle. i watched as she took a shot from her own glass, her shirt riding up ever so slightly; faint scars seemingly outlining the portions of herself she wanted to cut off shining under the moonlight.

i didn't ask.

— The End —