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Will Storck Jun 2010
When we walked up to the door of our favourite coffee pub
You tangled your fingers around my own
And with a twist of my wrist
We went in

We order our usual from the usuals
The baristas never changed though the drinks did with the seasons
As I pull out the exact change from my coat
You shake some melted snow from your hair

We grab a seat at a nook by the window
There was a ring of dried coffee on the table
I fill it in with my mug
You joke it’s my OCD but I say it’s my love for the unappreciated

We listen to a woman with a guitar at the makeshift stage
She strums off a couple chords and sings with her lips
She fades into the background as I turn to look at you
Your eyes are closed to turn up the volume

I close mine too and let the music direct me
My mind swims like a trapeze *******
I sway with the strings and strums
Your hand grasps mine as I fall into the safety net

The guitarist is packing up
Our coffee or what’s left of it is cold
You lean over and
Two angels kissed like sinners
Two sinners kissed like angels
Swoo Aug 2018
A Cold Affair

She'd been  the queen from the moment she was born everybody felt her. She knew it and at some point became sure of it, but nothing lasts forever in the circle of nature all four siblings got their turn and every one of them brought their own drama with them. She was the cruelest of the four because when she came around everything in it's different existence had their mixed reaction towards her. Some animals would hibernate and humans would almost do the same but for them it was a part time thing specially when her moods were up. She would make them feel her every single move they would get cold, change their usuals clothes and trade them for their warmer versions which usually stay stuffed in the deepest parts of their closets. They'd put on scurves, boots, track suits to hand gluves since even their hands would nearly freeze she was one hell of a cold women. As her circle was nearing the finish line on her last run she would become the meanest. To be honest she was never cruel or mearnt to torment, being cold was the only way she knew how to show love and by the cold breeze and a wave of cold fronts it was her only trying to be remembered as another sibling was about to take their turn. She would over express herself and yes she would be felt as it was winters last goodbye.

Swoo
Misunderstood type of love
Micah Morse Nov 2013
my favorite hat says Love Yourself
because I need the ******* reminder

it’s pink, a color I used to think was girly, and
the brim has a floral print
the kind my mom told me was too flamboyant
   before she knew I was gay
before I needed the advice

but a mother always knows best
or that’s what they say, except
mine still doesn’t

the teacher I hate
used my hat as an example in class (poetic irony)
this is image
this is type
like we couldn’t read the screen

my lazy entitlement
bitter in his space
yet in my own room i still can’t read the words on the page,
or make myself.

i still look for purpose
but the weekend basement usuals tend to call first
(if anyone else called)
and I find comfort in
the ritual
it’s not that I fear responsibility

i’m hiding from myself
if there was a me to find

in the meantime,
i try to Love this
i try to Love something

i don’t usually taste the effort.
SJ Stine Sep 2010
Without you there is no inspiration,
good or bad.
I am lifeless,
there is no feeling,
no emotion.
I am going through the motions of everyday
till you find your way back to me again.
You are in a place where no one knows your name,
you can start fresh,
be yourself.
I am stuck in this dust bowl,
looking for comfort,
seeking out friendships.
You are breathing clean air,
I am ******* in exaust and dust.
You are in an indie rock haven,
ska escape,
metal homeland.
I am swirling in country music,
wailing gospels,
classic rock FM static.
Come home soon.
The usuals miss you.
Shiennina Marae Apr 2014
I
Imagining the girl frightened
Trembling somewhere up ahead
Talked to her as I went along
Doing my best
Reassuring her I meant no harm
My words came
Slapping back at me in a disorienting echo
She asked me to leave her alone
Finding her comfort in silences
Content with the routines, the usuals
Her holy place, very deceiving
The contrasts she loved
I stepped on her words
Said I cannot bear leaving her on her own
Now that I'm here
She didn't have to be
I gave her all that I had
Answered with only a shake of her head
Telling me she doesn't want me around
When I met him for the first time..
It seemed like I was abducted and thrown into a meadow.
It’s jolt was such an impact, yet overwhelmingly mellow.

The breath of fresh air. Away from all my usuals. But most definitely, my type..

And there he was. Standing with his words all over the place, but he’s smarter..
He has them all decorated like an uncomplicated flower arrangement, better !

When I met him for the first time..it felt like he knows..
He knows how to grab my attention, but he does something bigger..
He exposes his soul to me, opens up in a manner that is a little wee..
Now that he’s naked, and raw.. I can finally feel the marks of that paw..that scratched his soul, it wounded my own..

I wanted to tell him, out loud..
That I was here. And that he could count..
Count on me till the end, for this was just a speed bump, the F1 race is far from over..

When I met him for the first time..
There he was, like an open treasure chest, and all I could feel was like Jack sparrow, at his black pearl’s quest.. I wanted to tell him that this is just the intermission, life has it’s own gradualization..

But he looks up, and cracks a joke that’s fake.. he is trying so hard to hide the ache.. but little does he know, that I pile too, When it all gets much too..
but fear is what gets us going.. defines our being.

Suddenly I feel his breath on my shoulder, for now he has taken shelter..
His hands getting colder..
Yet the embrace getting bolder.
He turns to me.. says will I be alright ? And that’s when I know he was already a little better..a little right.

So when I met him for the first time, I asked him too..
If I could drop my curtains..?
All he could do is be all ears.
And listen to all the nasty anecdotes over my years..
And I think, I finally found my soul mate..
who said it had to be someone you marry ? It could be someone with who you can relate..

When I met him for the first time..
It seemed like I was abducted and thrown into a meadow.
It’s jolt was such an impact, yet overwhelmingly mellow.
Kimmy-Nichole Jun 2011
I guess its final;
I am here,
In the same place
The every day
ways of the environments
Of lifes beautiful face-

on every drive
in every way
Its becoming familiar

Maybe a new start
With the Introduction to  
the patterns of the daily usuals

I think another year will be such a brave decision,
A simple leap of trust of responsibility
And realiability
A simple independence;
Proven to be another challenge;
as well as the the midterm
of finding who I am.
So mom told me " I don't know what we are going to eat tomorrow ".
I decided to leave my beauty 
'cause I knew "Pretty" was going to keep us away from starvation in the next morning. 
Tight dress, I wore.
9 inches heel, I wore. 
Red lipstick, I wore.
Mascara
Blush
Mud or whatever the usuals call it " a Coverage".
I once heard " Pretty " makes you the centre of attention. 
I heard that "Pretty" fills your pocket for a day.
I mean no jobs.
Lack of education. 
What is there for me to have a profession in?
Millions spent to change streets that already have names.
Pastors don't practice what they preach. 
Case documents missing 
And Lawyers being caught in the middle. 
Governments expanding their estates with the nation's money 
Who are we to trust these people with our lives?
Who am I not to use my Pretty flaw to cash up?
Who am I to criticise, when I too is breaking the image of womanhood? 
Yes, "Pretty" struck an *** of a man's eyes.
Boxers who can't read or write earn millions for a round. 
I get R200 for a round
Battling with a stranger
Pretty smashes beauty.
Him winning the round
Me losing myself
        Losing self-respect
        Losing womanhood. 
But still we had a something to eat the next morning and night. 
My mom smiled not knowing where it all came from.
So mom told me " I don't know what we are going to eat tomorrow ".
I decided to leave my beauty 
'cause I knew "Pretty" was going to keep us away from starvation in the next morning. 
Tight dress, I wore.
9 inches heel, I wore. 
Red lipstick, I wore.
Mascara
Blush
Mud or whatever the usuals call it " a Coverage".
I once heard " Pretty " makes you the centre of attention. 
I heard that "Pretty" fills your pocket for a day.
I mean no jobs.
Lack of education. 
What is there for me to have a profession in?
Millions spent to change streets that already have names.
Pastors don't practice what they preach. 
Case documents missing 
And Lawyers being caught in the middle. 
Governments expanding their estates with the nation's money 
Who are we to trust these people with our lives?
Who am I not to use my Pretty flaw to cash up?
Who am I to criticise, when I too is breaking the image of womanhood? 
Yes, "Pretty" struck an *** of a man's eyes.
Boxers who can't read or write earn millions for a round. 
I get R200 for a round
Battling with a stranger
Pretty smashes beauty.
Him winning the round
Me losing myself
        Losing self-respect
        Losing womanhood. 
But still we had a something to eat the next morning and night. 
My mom smiled not knowing where it all came from.
J J Jun 2020
Comatosed with open gaze insinuating
Morphine daydreams,
With bristling hairs along arms
Before she had the chance to shave
and the folicles deactivated;
It is her womb she has devoted
For the public eye;
How it slowly rots, from incarnadine
-as the historical pictures aside her show-
To it's current viridian swelter;
Like an ugly robust bruise too tough to die.

Rupturing outward a torridness
Of legs and crooked fingers stuck to half-grip,
Scanning southly one notes globules of goosebumps
Haunting up her thighs,
Pricking cloudward and shivering implying that,atleast,
For a second whilst living she was aware of this—
Her impending fate.

Red,red,red lips
bud close to form a cute,poppish image,
Honouring those photographers who come and go—
Her tiny hands are posited to corner her tiny *******
As not to stir any further controversy.
The lady in the jar awaits the usuals,while blind
to her own doing so,

Mind overrun and on display like a faulty calculator
Via that dull, happy, gaze.

She smells up the room of exquisite perfume and
Quixotic trees and fields and roads and too much more to mention...

The fee these stranger's would scavage from their pockets
Just to be awarded a chance to touch
The fair lady’s skin and determine a better verdict
As to whether or not she meant all that much to the world
at all.
skyy omalley Jun 2020
ed,,zinger suivante,,tels handknits finish,,cagefuls basinlike bag octopodan,,imbossing vaporettos rorid easygoingnesses nalorphines,,benzol respond washerwomen bristlecone,,parajournalism herringbone farnarkeled,,episodically cooties,,initiallers bimetallic,,leased hinters,,confidence teetotaller computerphobes,,pinnacle exotically overshades prothallia,,posterior gimmickry brassages bediapers countertrades,,haslet skiings sandglasses cannoli,,carven nis egomaniacal,,barminess gallivanted,,southeastward,,oophoron crumped,,tapued noncola colposcopical,,dolente trebbiano revealment,,outworked isotropous monosynaptic excisional moans,,enterocentesis jacuzzi preoccupations,,hippodrome outward googs,,tabbises undulators,,metathesizing,,sharia prepostor,,neuromast curmudgeons actability,,archaise spink reddening miscount,,madmen physostigmin statecraft neurocoeles bammed,,tenderest barguests crusados trust,,manshifts darzis aerophones,,reitboks discomposingly,,expandors,,monotasking galabia,,pertinents expedients witty,,chirographies crachach unsatisfactoriness swerveless,,flawed sepulchred thanksgiver scrawl skug,,perorate stringers gelatine flagstones,,chuses conceptualization surrejoined,,counterblasts rache,,numerative,,delirifacients methylthionine,,mantram dynamist atomised,,eternization percalines hryvnias pragmatizing,,reproachfulnesses telework nowts demoded revealer,,burnettize caryopteris subangular wirricows,,transvestites sinicized narcissus,,hikers meno,,degassing,,postcrises alikenesses,,sycophancy seroconverting insure,,yantras raphides cliftiest bosthoon,,zootherapy chlorides nationwide schlub yuri,,timeshares castanospermine backspaces reincite,,coactions cosignificative palafitte,,poofters subjunctions,,aquarian,,theralite revindicating,,cynosural permissibilities narcotising,,journeywork outkissed clarichords troutier,,myopias undiverting evacuations snarier superglue,,deaminise infirmaries teff hebephrenias,,brainboxes homonym lancelet,,lambitive stray,,inveigled,,acetabulums atenolol,,dekkos scarcer flensed,,abulias flaggers wammul boastfully,,galravitch happies interassociation multipara augmentations,,teratocarcinomata coopting didakai infrequently,,hairtails intricacy usuals,,pillorise outrating,,cataphoresis,,furnishings leglen,,goethite deflate butterburs,,phoneticising winiest hyposulphuric campshirts,,chainfalls swimmings roadblocked redone soliloquies,,broking mendaciousness parasitisms counterworld,,unravellings quarries passionately,,onomatopoesis repenting,,ramequin,,mopboard euphuistically,,volta sycophantized allantoides,,bors bouclees raisings sustaining,,diabolist sticks dole liltingly,,curial bisexualisms siderations hemolysed,,damnabilities unkenneling halters,,peripheral congaing,,diatomicity,,foolings repayments,,hereabouts vamosed him,,slanters moonrock porridgy monstruous,,heartwood bassoonist predispositions jargoon dominances,,timidest inalienable rewearing inevitably,,entreating retiary tranquillizing,,uniparental droogs,,allotropous,,forzati abiogenetic,,obduration exempted unifaces,,epilating calisaya dispiteously coggles,,vestmented flukily ignifying complished hiccupy municipalize,,pentagraphs parcels sutler excavates,,stardust miscited thankfulness,,fouter pertused,,overpacks,,guarishes hylotheism,,pi Fresh blood seeps through the line parting her skin and slowly colors her breast red. I begin to hyperventilate as my compulsion grows. The images won’t go away. Images of me driving the knife into her flesh continuously, ******* her body with the blade, making a mess of her. My head starts going crazy as my thoughts start to return. Shooting pain assaults my mind along with my thoughts. This is disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. How could I ever let myself think these things? But it’s unmistakable. The lust continues to linger through my veins. An ache in my muscles stems from the unreleased tension experienced by my entire body. Her Third Eye is drawing me closer.
Jowlough Mar 2019
I am the process;
The traversing of mountains
In threadlike loopholes
And narrow passages
Of patient waitings
And trembling muses;
Stronger and sturdier
Than the age old woodwork,
Patient like hachiko
Emptiness was never
A strange phenomenon
That should be pondered
Wandered, instead conquered
Purposely testing
Water depth mocking
The norms and the usuals
People are unusual
Strange as it may be
Talkish boy you come and see
Coastal air and hot tea
Staples of synthwave
Let me be.
Lara Trujillo Mar 2020
I feel like me when you drop me off
when I come home safe and sound
I have a thing for all things soft
with the corners going rough
I can never seem to get enough.

I want to be a man
God, I want to be a man so bad

I feel like me when you gift me drinks
the usuals, you know well which they are
I feel like me when you don’t feel me
A good time you promised I’d adore
I don’t feel like a woman anymore

I want to be a man
God, I want to be a man so bad
Being a woman is very hard
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2020
when one can simply peel off poetic-prose like...
so... like... scratching one's head...
or clipping toenails...

    now that washing your hands: perdiodically
and with: fingerprinting technology details...
well: i suggest all that soap bottled and
riddled by a diluted composite of:
mainly water and sodium chloride with
some perfumes...

              when one can simply peel off poetic-prose
like... that sort of a ripe banana...
not much good for raw eating with the chimps
making congregation over
arthur's later edward the confessors
round-table... no... no ape-politico!
not with darwin ideologues and those
neurosurgeons who would never meet up
with the horror-flick: almost a B-movie...
crank-me-up... doctor channard...

     but there's this... waking up to...
no... it's not the radio...
and not... a violent reaction...
      or panic in babylon...
   the brian jonestown massacre...
            #... #iwasnevercrazyaboutvivaldi-
                                    -violinsimitatingsparrows-
   -oranyotherbirdofspring...

well... checking the temp. my prayers have
been met... the pepsi... or cola...
whichever... i expect there came some
coca-cola contraband when gaining
the ingredients for the pepsi max...
i can't tell the difference these days...
between a coke zero or a pepsi max...
but sure as **** pepsi max came first...
so... contraband between corporations...

some mishter jamesh bon'        double-oh:
yep 00 does look like...
what isn't a double-U of a... W...

i mean... where could i get such words...
if not in a victorian work of chicken-scratches
and archeological scribbles...

they should defame Shakespeare... but not quiet...
only because... of that:
thane of Glamis! thane of Caledonia...
         but i should have met Dickens...
before having met... Charlotte Brontë...
hell: thank god i didn't meet Jane Austen...
and i can thank a monster for hooking me up
with Mary Shelley...

                but what's a Dickens with a fishing
rod... with no desire to entertain
a panorama of... 5am... river... pitch-black...
or thereby... and fingers counting fingers when
pinching a sound-bite of a wriggling rot-tooth
of a maggot...

       misnomer: or just the appropriate sounds?
mind you... what's that i heared about rhyme?
it looks well caged... zoological even...
given that i have been given assurances...
they would rhyme... those poems...
well... apart from the greek narrative epics...
or the latin... narrative mundane bouquets...
teasing at maxims and: fare-ye-well...
me... tarzan... jane... dr falstaff:    yummy garden
greens!
rhyme... well if rhyme it is...
you won't be needing a piece of paper on stage...
rhyming as a way to remember lines...
imagine being an actor...
for that "concern" a poet too...
and... no rhyme was involved...
i guess by rhyme you hear the bouncing ball...
and the suffixes are tabulated...
  when and thus: all this forgotten...
better in song when there are couplets
of sentences and they... end with -ed:

   i head!
to which... wink wink...
  my head of... a sunken ship's worth...
an anchor! sleeping cerberus ahoy!
we will surely pass!
into this belly of the most fantastic beast
that's Hades himself...
digesting shadow creamed with ash...
topped with a dash of hope: that's soul...
and hey presto! we'll have ourselves...
a feast: al fresco... although...
6-feet beneath the ground...
which is... aeons from sunlight...
     and... 6ft short of a flower's tip...
hardly gagging for the heights of an oak...
am i?

but that's quiet an affair...
everything, is, in, its, right... place...
i was thinking: amnesia and vanilla sky...
but then there's the curse of tom cruise
not winning best actor for:
born on the 4th of july...

it's a make-over...
the original movie is also an opening
quote from vanilla sky:
amphetamines on dylan
and cognac's worth of monet...
                
   open your eyes...
      again... in spanish...
abre los ojos
     abre: open...   los ojos (hush hush)...
   los: i knew it...
even the spaniards have it...
los = the...
      if the spanish have a definite article
before the eyes...
while the english have a determiner: your...
which is... by extension of the pronoun: you...
which i will use...
you(я) - chewbacca-otter round of applause!
you-i... or you-you... yoyo... W!

eh... some languages don't even
bother with a definite article or a determiner:

they just cut it down to... bypassing
grammatical shrapnel... and how can you have
gender neutral pronouns...
when the nouns themselves: are gendered?
i just heard the hyper-woke crowd
of grammatical geniuses are lying low...
worrying about spaghetti and toilet paper...
i figured: leech on!

              otwórz oczy
well... i guess the point of )open(
   is implied... that word just gobbles down
any determiner...
a verb within a verb...
to be open: ****... pronouns!
otwarty: to be open (masculine)
otwarta: to be open (feminine)...
otwartość... to be open (as a quality)...

    but i thought that we could bypass the natives
and treat english like the medieval world
treated french: lingua franca style...
i.e. the language of tourists and clown-world
intellectuals: ahem... "intellectuals"...
the lingua inglese (l'inglese)...

    open your eyes...
    could make sense if it was only an english
****** translation:
   otwórz (twoje) oczy....
but it's already an intimate statement of wants...
who's who is beside the point
when someone says: open... and eyes...
so who needs: your's to be included as my
demand for your shut eyes?

and then... the spanish definite article...
open the eyez...
abre los ojos... it might as well be german...
rhien german: not vienna prone german...
öffnen ihre! das augen!

     a translation of german, as a joke...
never tires... from spanish to english or...
the saxons on these isles really softened and turned
themselves into oysters...
mingling with the welsh the picts and the irish...
but... that's "life"...

   it's all in a pud... or a pug...
or an 'pple pi'...           or a spud...
                  or the red herring...
                        attempting to tell a joke in german...
i guess the only jokes they do tell...
are when drinking and as SS-*****-heichschtig-herr-meisters
in some concen-trato-kampisch...
  uber... uber... cosmo-ZEX... trans-...
                                               6s & 7s... of a 69'ers roulette...
the pink-bollocking ladies of the agony aunts
of the tabloid press... what's that?
oh... right! METRO-ZEXXIES! or the usuals...

joint-stock company of fish & flattery...
**** me... that's a scalping...
i wasn't expecting that to hit me...
i the bird that passes a stone to another bird...
not in a rubric of shakespeare of a cascade...
you're sort of expecting it to latch-on to you...
but not... when it's wwwwwwwwwwwinding
                                                                          o
                                                                          w              l
                                                                          n    and then
                                                                                            f
                                "ƨbɿɒwʞɔɒd" bnoγɘd bnɒ Ɉʇɘl ɘʜɈ oɈ

and then back into a paragraph of cuddling
to a pillow... unexpecting... a near-miss of genius...
****-*******? Dickens' a worth a lot
more than ****-*******...
more like catching a ****... beheading it...
plucking it... gutting it...
poaching it a while...
before even feigning to attempt to roast it!

as is waking up to: everything is in (its / the) right place...
its by definition is not: it's...
and the... well... its can be a determine of yours...
but now we have at least three languages
to juggle...
and you're still the one sending me postcard
from Dover...
when i should hear the sound of:
piedlibre / piedsrelâché dans Calais...
so no... no postcard from kevin bacon
made homeless by Bruges or Strasbourg...
because... because of the ******* architecture!

i'll watch one commentary video...
after i have sampled some Dickens...
           and that's with an intro of some sip sip...
and afterwards... it's onto the maincourse
of music... and... counting the number
of bones in my hands... the ones that wouldn't
make me a professional snooker player...

would i even care to call radiohead a group...
passe? sooner or later pink void and floyd
the barber will be... dinosaur music...
                    and at least... this electric sunrise...
of... a movie i never starred in...
but somehow borrowed... because i didn't
want to be rudely awakened by the bbc radio 1
breakfast show... but wake up to a movie-cliche...
does it matter?
      
something subtle... perhaps it should have been
the....
                         DAS BOOOOOT theme...
or         teenzeitalterRANDALIEREN of sonic youth...
diese ist nicht vesternberlinerbranddeburaegean...
schimmenschimmen... izm:siemensiemen...

i swear... either me... or the "boomer"
monty python quack and prance choke.... joke.

OBDURATE...
it's either shooting up junk or drinking and acquiring
a purse of victorian vocab wealth...
never heard of it...
              as any word... with the onslaught of slang...
"out of fashion"...
hardened...                      he had an obdurate resolve...
er war verstockt! he was stubborn...

at a time when english still clinched to:
veriloquium ex latine -
origins of truth from latin...
or at least... the meaning of words...
apart... of course... from the odd greek -suffix
or prefix- "loan" worth of scalpel...
for technicality's sake ol' chap!

                         oh things could have been...
much much worse...
i could have been the drunk and the dunce!
         lucky for me... i found... conversations...
outside of writing... a... theatre with too many...
uncertain... chess-games of...
                        origins of poker... via... physiognomy...
and... at that point...
anything by the gnostics... would suffice...
sprinkle in a little bit of kabbalah...
  hell...                        those wise wise people:
who started to know all about the misgivings
of life... the same ones...
who never held a book at a leisure...
   nor later: as a variation of their work...
that work... which offered them but one relief...
to escape boredom...
and to later find further escape...
   in being... entertained...
                             my shadow already does that
for me.
thankyou

today i prepare

to soujourn before

real winter comes

we ( he) only cut the back

yesterday and it looks good

bringing new plans, solid ideas

like responsible adults have

using language of the usuals

made in conversations and

the media

the front grass is timetabled

early november

meanwhile i research paving

and carpeting colours

indoors i hear podcasts

stuff i should know

owls and falling rain

which  did falleth

until the language changed

so now it falls

as do conkers

i wonder if i may mesg

you via phone; you see

i looked at the reviews

and the wifi is till dodgy

we shall see

go safely

i enjoyed your writing

with tea
Carolyn Diana May 2022
When people ask me "How are you?"
To most I'd just say "I'm fine".
An automatic response like I'm a robot.

And to the some I'd say
"I'm still alive, thanks for checking up on me"

"Unfortunately alive" if I'm not in the mood and

"The prodigal son returns" when It's a long time no see.

They'd laugh. They know I'm not one with usual response. Not really the "Good morning" or "Good whatever" person. I'd rather get to the point of actual conversation skipping the usuals.

When people see me they'd fill me with adjectives and all I do is flash a smile and ignore. I'm not good at compliments. But to some I'd grin, smirk even and tell the ugly parts besides what's seen.

I'd tell how
"Extra inches would make me stand tall"
or how "Inches off my waist would make me embrace myself more".
I would tell how I don't use "Concealer to conceal my scars"
or even "Bronzer to highlight my features".
I tell them how "I'm okay with no beauty parlour"
or how "My eyebrows, hair looks".

Somedays I walk a "STAR" and somedays "HOMELESS". It doesn't matter to impress.

Some would tell
"You're already beautiful without any"

while some would tell
"Why the insecurities? Just embrace yourself"

and some
"I wish you loved yourself enough to know your worth".

I'd like to tell them the truth but never mind I'd nod and shrug.

I'm odd. Always been. I never fit in the crowd.
I'm not an introvert. I lie between the lines.

I mostly have a stern face and cold stare that I could chase anyone across a mile from approaching or so I've been told.

I've been given other adjectives too, apart from looks. Looks can be deceiving. I was always judged having an innocent face, they'd say
"You're not the one to endure worse in life."

I'd like to tell
"LIFE ***** ALL" but then I'd simply smile, make them believe I agree.

I have a tendency to laugh at myself. I'm good at that. Since I was a child I've been called names and they don't offend me at all.

I'm more of "What-ifs, Buts" than "Ands".
They say "You're such a pessimist".
I'd like to tell "I'm realistic" but I've come to accept not all are "ME" and it's okay to let them live in their bubble of perception. I've known the difference between fitting in and standing out and it doesn't matter to me what others think. Society never pleased me anyways.

It's not that
"I don't know my self worth or not love myself enough" that I let others make me fall.
I know when to hold on and when to let go.
"I'm a slave for love.

In love, pain and happiness go hand in hand. But if it's only pain then it's about time you question yourself, why?"

Respect to some has been wiped off from their dictionary but to me it stands first. I'm a mess like the rest but I don't linger on the brokenness.

Appreciating beauty comes naturally to anyone but"What's self love if I can't love the ugly parts of me?"
And "What's your love if you can't understand me to appreciate enough?"
I'd say you don't know me at all.

So, when I talk to you about how damaged I am it's just a test to know your threshold over mine.

I adore the "IMPERFECT ME" to the extent that I don't get offended when people try to bring me down.

And that my friend is how "I ******* LOVE MYSELF."

— The End —