Takis poems on Hello Poetry

Amy Borton Feb 2019

Did you know that I hate you?
Every second you ignore me seeps into my skin like ink
Your words are a tattoo I can’t remove
I’ve spent months scrubbing my skin of your touch
The memory of it lingering
Between my fingers
Behind my ears
On my lips
Around my waist
An invisible hand-shaped scar on my cheek accompanied by
The sound of your voice between tears
“I want to do my best for you”
Unless your best is weakening me to the point I can’t get out of bed,
You’re a ******* liar for that
And so much more
I want to rip the memory of us from inside of you, you don’t deserve it
When I think of you I want to scream until my voice goes limp

And then you smile
And I remember you again
The goofy ******* who spends days making music
Lover of takis and neck kisses and bridges
I remember you holding me while I cried
And taking pictures while I laughed
Always knowing when I’m hungry or sad or anxious or tired
Jamming out to Inner Voices on a 20 hour road trip
Getting ****** and petting dogs
Snowball fights at 2 AM
Making out at stoplights
Taking an hour to say goodbye
The way you grinned so wide after we kissed
Every
Single
Time

You ******* ******* *******

#love #hate #******* #skin #kiss #memory #smile #hurt #laugh #goodbye

Oliver Gottlieb Apr 2020

Buffalo Wild Wings

I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where you need to jog up three black carpet handicap-ramps just to reach your table.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where it takes 14 minutes for the waitress to arrive, and 72 minutes for the food to come out.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where they change their mac n’ cheese recipe every week just to **** you off.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where all 300 TV screens are airing adds simultaneously.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where you ask for queso without salsa, but they can’t hear you; over the Flex Seal commercial blasting at full volume.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where every wing sauce besides honey-barbecue tastes like Jalapeño Takis drenched in McDonald’s buffalo sauce.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where it’s Kids Wednesday, everyday.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where the bathrooms have approximately 4 urinals, 2 baby changing stations, and 17 ******* TVs.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where desserts always on the menu, but never in your mouth.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where the party games consist of a single, rigged, claw machine, full of nothing but green and pink rubber *****.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where the bar smells like congealed grease, olive oil, and a rusted frying pan.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where the only customers are bald-white-guys and fat-black-women.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where the one birthday clown is a 54-year-old Indian *** offender.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where dreams die and ****-babies are born.
I want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, where their iceberg lettuce is grown under black-light.
I want to go to Buffalo Wi-
Wait, are you not in the mood for chicken?

— The End —