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#new poetry
helenasurvives · 5 months ago
not like other girls
was a title i coveted
but never earned.
i wrote off makeup,
i stopped talking about fairies and mermaids
to research superheroes.
i quit ballet in favor of taekwondo
but even in a plain white dobok and a brown tti,
dripping sweat and exhaustion
i was not enough.
i was vengeful in my frustration
notorious for the blood on my gloves—
we weren’t supposed to aim for the nose
but i was smaller and younger
and a good actress.
deep down i think i knew
i would never be like the girls
who weren’t like other girls,
and that made me wonder
what about other girls was so bad,
and why there were no boys
who weren’t like other boys.
i expected other girls to be what i’d seen on tv
and read in books,
but instead i was met with compliments,
kind eyes and genuine voices,
proclaiming boys were to be seen and not heard.
i learned that i was pretty
and i looked cute in pink
and the school confiscates pocketknives
but keys fit between your fingers.
i fell in love with other girls
when they took his sneer as a declaration of war,
unleashed their tongues like rabid dogs
in defense of girls they’d never spoken to
and flashed sharp grins
when their words bit hard enough
to reward them with tears.
i watched in awe
as other girls filed their nails into claws,
drove needles through their ears and noses
and lined their eyes with intimidation.
the judgement of their fathers
weighed down their bare shoulders
and adorned their short skirts
but every time he voiced it
their scissors took another inch off the bottom.
they were feral, and territorial,
they were disobedient and wanted blood,
they dressed how they wanted
and if you looked and didn’t like it
that was your problem.
i failed at not like other girls
because i met other girls
and i remembered my breath was fire
and my teeth dripped venom,
my hair was a nest of snakes
and my gaze was stone;
they knew i was a gorgon
years before i did
and now i’ve finally
become one.
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moonyloonywitch · 23 days ago
It doesn't matter if I try or not.
I'll end up in the sky a star.
But what matters is if you'll be there or not.
Beside me, glowing like the sun you are.
All that ever matters is you.
And if I wake up a star and not find you beside me,
know that I'll die over and over again.
A black hole forming at every attempt.
And until I find you I'll keep exploding.
Till I know the warmth on my face is your light.
Maybe that's how galaxies are formed.
Each one an attempt at a love story.
And thus the universe keeps on expanding.
How can it not?
When there are millions of us still searching for love.
© Moonyloonywitch
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frequen-seas · 3 months ago
A list of things I wish I could say to you
1) I miss you.
2) I pick up my phone several times during the day to check if you’ve messaged me.
3) I feel sad when you haven’t.
4) I smile a lot when you have.
5) I like you. I really really do - to the point that sometimes I wonder whether this is love instead of some hormone-induced infatuation.
6) I also really fancy you. Which really is different from just ‘like’. ‘Like’ sounds too chill. My stomach goes all jittery, and I get chills thinking about the next time I’ll see you. That is definitely not chill. (pun unintended)
7) I am convinced I won’t ‘grow out’ of fancying you. At least for quite some time.
8) Remember when I said I didn’t expect anything from you? I lied.
9) I want to date you. I want to be your best friend. I want us to fall madly in love. I want to meet all your friends and be best friends with them. Sometimes I dream about all of us, sitting in a cocktail bar in Bristol, having a really great time.
10) I also think about the day you introduce me to your mom. It’s always the same scene: she and I cooking together, laughing, and chatting non-stop. I look around to catch you smiling in the corner.
11) I’m worried if I say any of the above, you will be terrified of me.
12) Actually, I’m already convinced you don’t like me as much after the last time you saw me.
13) Definitely not as much as I like you.
14) Nowadays I wake up with my stomach in churns, uneasy and heavy, because I think you have stopped liking me altogether.
15) Did I mention my therapist thinks you’re ‘really lovely’?
16) She thinks you might be worth waiting for. I would hate it though if you found someone else in the time being.
17) I want so badly to be your one and only.
18)  What about you though? What do you want?
- As brave as I like to think I am, I do not say any of this. Instead I asked, ‘hey how has your week been?’ Just a friend being a really good friend.     
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poetry-insanity · a month ago
They wait for you
In woods floating by
On a train ride
They wait in
Cracks in the concrete
Creatures of fantasy
They wait for you
For you to one day return
To sight
They will sing to you at night
To the balcony
Through the window
In raindrops on the ceiling
They breathe in
Rustling leafs
They know
One day
On a warm day of may
In the freshly cut hay of
The town you once called home
The fae
Will be there with you
On your last day
To greet you again, wanderer
For you were never lost
Just hiding
From what a childs gaze
May uncover
Just in their mind you think?
For they don't perceive
They just find
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pjg2950 · 3 months ago
Three friends
They walk up and down the paved street,
almost every day.
She in the middle, leader of the pack.
quick steps, the day being set up in her mind.
On the left
a small hairy dog, doing his best to stay in step,
watching out for any dangers that are bigger then him.
That is most of the world, except for squirrels.
On the right,
the black cat, sleek, firm with burning yellow eyes.
The only leash they share is trust.
If only we could do that,
we would not need the leashes 
that are around our souls.
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panic-in-the-attic · 3 months ago
When I Sleep, I Don’t Dream
My picture hangs on the wall of a home in the Midwest.
I am not her.
I'm lounging on the furniture, as if I were..
gazing at the space that made me.
Made me strive, made me work - succeed.
Only I call it success, this freedom I possess.
The people who made me, oddly familiar and unknown.
Made me to feel alone in this world.
Made me to create my own world.
Dive into books and characters
Writing a narrative, I could never express.
Buttoned up.
Tucked away.
Spoke when spoken to.
Turned astray.
Clutching my stories, they'd later say.
To know me, would have been to open up a page.
To sleep, was to dream that I was someone else.
Day and night,
Open my eyes, find I'm still alive.
In my body.
In my role.
Play it out,
as I'm told.
I couldn’t sleep anymore, any more.
Running replays while awake,
“Daydreams” they’d say.
Her picture hangs on the wall of a home in the Midwest.
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hannahflowerspoetry · a month ago
you asked me to meet you in a dream yes, i will, i replied swiftly for a moment’s pleasure seems far more important than honesty. have you ever watched a mushroom grow? some have spores which, at night, glow they come alive and spread and know in summer with their seeds to sew. to kill your hero seems as bitter i truly am an awful knitter the tapestries we weave together might have left alone been better.
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helenasurvives · 6 months ago
cast your eyes upon me
and fall into devotion,
revel in the masterpiece that is my being
and wait helplessly
as addiction crawls up your limbs,
long for me,
touch me
and find that my skin
was carved from marble,
in your love-drunk adoration
which sculptor could have hewn
something so masterful
stand before me
and discover why
my gaze entrances the sun
and my voice bewitches the moon,
perceive me
and empathize
with the planets
as they compete to capture my interest
and the northern lights
as they pray for my attention
brush your hands along my thighs
and know
that my flesh is coiled lightning
and my bones contain the east wind,
grasp my hands
and bear witness
to the vast expanse of past and future
written in the swirls of my fingerprints
and the lines of my palms,
press your ear to my chest
and behold thunder.
caress the folds of my stomach
and know that i am made of mountains
that my muscles were knitted
from the same roots
that strangle boulders
and win,
learn the map of my veins
and be warned;
inside them surges saltwater
stolen from the deepest trenches of the sea
i cry seafoam
and spit the blood of men
who wronged me.
the universe is an artist
that makes itself in my image
every new nebula another attempt
at painting the wildfire that rages within me
and when my body does decay
all creation will rot
beside me.
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thissometimepoet · 6 months ago
The Bell (a poem)
The Bell Whatever calls the robins back each spring has done it again this year and flocks of them replied to cover the grass like crowds of children waiting for the school doors to open and be let inside and in some ways Spring is a door and in other ways Spring is a lesson and there right now is the bell.
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abrighterspark · 4 months ago
stand on the edge of empty ecstasy
trace a route towards its end
take this high and fuck that low
and free those phantom fantasies
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warpnweft · 3 months ago
the lightless labyrinth between wanting               to love yourself & finding the way               to love yourself
will forever stretch beyond fingertips beyond eyesight & earshot & imagination
so long as the notion that beauty only exists               outside yourself blinds you
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just-wordsandthoughts · 6 months ago
One look at you,
My entire life makes sense.
I prayed for you,
Before getting you for myself.
It's hard to believe sometimes,
What joy and beauty you hold.
You brought a new life into this world,
And I'll forever be grateful.
They did not want me, but you did,
You sacrificed everything for my sake.
All I was something to get rid of,
But you saw me as something to be thankful for.
And I'll forever be grateful.
I'm oy me when I'm with you,
You have been the best part of these sixteen years.
They are all but talks,
You are the only one who would suffice.
People come and people go,
You'll always be my constant glow.
I know I've been wrong sometimes,
For that I am always sorry
You've given me everything I ever wanted,
And I'll forever be grateful.
- Nandini.
Here's to my mama.
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muleke323 · 3 months ago
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I’ve been stuck trying to decide if I should focus on primarily sharing excerpts from my book, WAIT, or sharing the new poetry I’ve been writing.
My best friend, Amber, shared this the other day. It gave me the idea that I should just share what I feel like I want to share, which is why I shared WAIT to begin with.
So, I expect to be posting more soon.
WAIT x Kemuel Edmond, available now
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pjg2950 · a month ago
The Shadow of the Bell
It tolls across,
cities and town.
The sound calling to faithful and sinner
Cast iron with the heart of God within.
Come it says,
I forgive.
I need you as much as you need me.
I need your strength so that I may share it with others.
Come and stand in the shadow of the bell.
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