Posts
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romantic
i hate valentine's day:
i used to be a hopeless romantic
and maybe that's why i want to hide
in a corner, staying unnoticed.
i love valentine's day:
i used to love chocolate box
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tootsie pops
"What's your favorite flavor?"
My dad hands me an array of lollipops:
Blue, pink, purple and orange,
And I instinctively go for the orange one.
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i wish that you could read this
I'll stop staring,
I'll stop caring,
I'll stop texting you,
I'll stop hoping you'll like me too.
There's no point in staring if you don't meet my gaze,
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From Poetry Class...
We had to write a poem about an animal
in poetry class the other day,
And I didn't know what topic to choose,
so of course I wrote about you:
A bee flies in front
of my window,
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Silver linings
Three months is too long
to hold onto hope,
But here I am clutching it in my fist
like it's my very will to live.
I need to set it free,
I'll watch it fly across the sky,
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after all this time?
I hate how you couldn't see
What you did to me.
The way my heart shattered
When you were with him.
I wanted you to be with me,
And hold my hand in the halls.
I was your first friend,
 
Loves
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How It Always Goes: An Angry Rant
Dear ______ I am sorry.
Dear ______ I have hurt you and I don't know how to stop.
I say often that it is not hard to be kind,
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stranger to blue water
sing to me.
i've been a stranger once more
to your hills and valleys, to the
gaps of sunlight between your grasping evergreens.
i've been a stranger
to the red barn
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T
Tired.
worn out.
Stuck in daydreams,
so checked out.
It's been like this for months.
and getting worse in bumps and grunts.
the summer heat, it floods my mind
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to love again
you are of another mother
I knew you before
before that
man
I loved you before
now I'm left away
searched
and you're stopped
and hurt
I hope to love you again
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the sentence that ends with a semi-colon
avidly existential,
dying words essential,
they're floating through my mind,
like an unfrozen astronaut,
cryogenically prepared
not to find
a program,
for this forgotten play
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acting in a forgotten play
My life is a play whose writer has forgotten their motivation. The lines of the script are blurred, somewhat resembling the bricks on the wall I sit beside now.