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Deana Luna Apr 2015
lipstick gripped in my pocket like a razor blade
i wear heavy layers to keep you away
so that even if we kiss you will not smudge away enough to feel me bare.
from the grand archive of sadness of winter
August Mar 2016
Cursin' like a sailor
It's okay, right, avail her
Commanding the ship so strongly
you thought you finally had it off me
bullets keep bouncing off me like a trampoline, except this one isn't so fun, you see?

As It hits a slow curve
you seemed to have the nerve
to throw your whole crew overboard
just to save yourself first
the empire state of the south
never got to the party
left with the crumbs in the corner
and your mouth, only clarty

with a quick tongue
and a sly smile
a small smirk
so easy to beguile

Razerblades and Punk madness
colored hair with your tears of passion
brainwashed and bleached
compelled by your freedom of speech
tears so frequent, indecent, and cement
you're looking for my impeachment, what's your reason?

Knuckles hurt from punching pillows
rusting walls and weeping willows
Wanted so badly to be broken
so you tore out stitches

called me coward
but i'm not the one cranking out
poems that have been soured

I live to empower.
Emma Mar 2018
Him and I sit down at the table,
Maplewood worn by scratches and stains.
I would hardly call it dimly lit, more like black.

I saw nothing but the whites of his eyes and his teeth.
He welcomed me back and I didn't respond, I thought we were long past formalities.

You've never met someone as sadistic.

He met with my mother when she got older, my father a bit younger.
And I -

He liked me best placed under looped ropes and over razerblades.

And maybe one day he'll get what he wants but for now

I will keep pushing him away

— The End —