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 Dec 2014 Amanda
curlygirl
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
 Dec 2014 Amanda
Hayleigh
How captivating it is
To watch the sun who was told she must love the sky, to defy, because despite the questions why, she knows it feels right, so she kisses with all her might, with all in sight, the earth every single night.
one slip is all,

one step too far, the
world turns around .

no control, no eating,



disorder abounds. watch
the ornaments fly, we feel
like alice. one minute turned
to weeks, and wish we had
our camera to film the scene.

these are indeed the falling days.

i am not broken, maybe cracked.
if you read me, you knew
that anyway.

sbm.
 Sep 2014 Amanda
Pushing Daisies
"This is nice?"
You stated nervously, as if it where a question you shouldn't be asking.

I nodded.
- Cringing at your lack of confidence

"Yeah it is, Thankyou."
- for teaching me how to be fake.

"I'm glad your having a nice time"
You said, fiddling with the zip on your jacket pocket.

I could not reply, I just smiled numbly.

You smiled too.
- numbly.

This was when I realised I was talking to myself.

Taking to someone who's thoughts, where so similar to my own.

Talking to someone who was always asking.

I had caught a glimpse of what it was like to be around me, and hated it.

- I hated me.

I hated my unsteady heart beat, my constant need for reassurance.

I hated that I craved acceptance and would do anything to receive it.

I hated that I was so scared of disappointing him, like you where scared of disappointing me.

- I hated the fact I was fragile

Your fingers slowly brushed against my palm, I guess you where asking if we could hold hands, but I moved away.

You where so shy and so sweet and so good, I knew that, but I also knew me.

*- I couldn't hold into something that I knew was going to break.
 Sep 2014 Amanda
Pushing Daisies
Hansel could not see the breadcrumbs,
Gretel was left on her own,
Following the winding trail,
That lead her far away for home.

With only one pair if eyes,
The lurking witch could pass,
Grabbing Gretel with such force,
Her young heart smashed like glass.
 May 2014 Amanda
Love
Eat
 May 2014 Amanda
Love
Eat
Is that the lowest moment?
When you don't dare to wear shorts because of the scars that cover your legs.
And then you're sitting there at the dinner table with your family,
And they keep on telling you to eat,
But all you mutter is "I'm not hungry",
When you actually are.
You're starving but your image is worth more than a meal.
You eat a few bites just to shut them up,
And then run to the bathroom to rid yourself of it,
To make sure you can fit into those jeans,
The ones that could stand you losing another 5 pounds.
You get used to the lies of:
"I'm not hungry"
"I ate before I came"
And "oh yeah I'm fine, just tired".
Is that your lowest point,
When the only food you're feeding yourself is lies?
 May 2014 Amanda
Julia Elise
-the raindrops remind me of waking up on 4th of July feeling lonely.
-my sheets whisper your name everytime i dare to move. i ache.
-my last text from you was 8.12.13
-You are beautiful. and i am sad. We will never work out.
-sometimes i wear red lipstick to see my psychiatrist. I just want to feel strong.
-i sleep for 14 hours and wake up tired.
-the ghosts in my room tug on my curls. they remind me of You.
-i feel tainted.
-oh god, oh god, oh god.
-whilst i sleep the waves rush over my head. i feel peace.
-there have been bugs in my veins since the last time we slept together.
-i am nothing, i am nothing, i am nothing.
-i have been using clever words so You will think i still have a brain.
-i sit in the bath until it turns grey to remind myself that i am dirt.
-i can not be a self love poem.
-You left me drunk and naked everytime.
-i am the beginning of a long, cold winter.
-i am a snowflake amongst sunflowers and children playing.
-Pain. Pain. Pain.
-the ringing in my ears has gotten louder since You said You missed me.
-i will never be Sylvia Plath.
-these walls scream out my secrets.
-i would like to be naked Polaroids and cocktails
but i am £2.31 white wine and ugly obscenities.
-i am an increase of prozac.
-You always mentioned your hate for winter.
-i will crave you for eternity.
-the earth will tremble like my voice. hands. eyes.
-this rain will last forever.
I haven't moved for 4 hours.
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