ParabolaYou deserve my full attention.
The curve of your forearm,
And imagining it around my waist
Startles and distracts me from reality,
Reaching, tearing apart my linear function
And forming a parabola.
You are the only one capitalizing my time.
The shape of your lips
And picturing them on mine
Shakes and forgives the past unbroken,
Rethinking, shifting away from what was once straight
And creating a parabola.
You promise me a future.
The camber of your shoulders,
And visualizing the position you use to laugh
Extrapolates and destroys the meaning of my existence,
Bending, relinquishing me of this flat-line life
And generating a parabola.
You secure my mark in humanity.
The arc of this reality, this existence
And picturing your reality with mine
Dismantles and eliminates everything I thought was real,
Deflecting, deviating my own thoughts
And producing a parabola.
Awakening from Paralysis Your whispers in the night bring her down;
They drag her down to the dungeons and take from her the crown.
The crown is all this beauty had in the world,
But it was after you took it that her real journey unfurled.
You took her to the steaming hot bath,
And watched as her back arched under your wrath.
Now all she wants is to find her true love -
One who will not be neglectful of
Her needs to be touched with a softer hand
That will stop in an instant with a quiet command.
The dream itself is totally free,
But the journey is indeed sold separately,
For she has traveled through tunnels of fire and soot
For coming down your chimney, no shoe on her foot.
She whispers quite solemn to her pillow too rough
That she's done entirely and had enough.
She reaches for her water kept next to her bed,
And beats herself to death, ending with her head.
Into a deep sleep her eyes engage
Until her true love wakes her from this stage
Of fear and uncertainty that strains this quiet miss
Only to be awa
I Have Slept With ThemI have a confession.
I have slept with them.
Others begged to hear about it,
But I replied with vague, half-true answers.
I have felt them,
Warm and bursting inside of me,
Until I could feel no more.
But the initial ecstasy
Has now been replaced by shame;
I have not slept with pride in years,
Not even whispered its name.
I have a confession.
I have slept with them -
The secrets, I mean.
I'm the Bitch, Not YouYou are quite literally the stupidest person I have ever met.
I am bilingual, and yet still don't possess the words to describe you.
But being a bitch is an art;
Trust me, I would know.
And being a bitch would label you as a true woman,
Which can't work,
Because the very letter "B" lying on its side visually depicts everything that you lack.
If I wished, I could poke you over Facebook
And watch you crumble to your knees.
I am the bitch.
I'll correct anyone who disagrees.
The maple blood that spouted from her irresistible lips has replaced the blood in my limbs,
And it drips in my brain like a ticking bomb-
A constant reminder of all the things you've done wrong.
You need only remember that I will not forget.
You will live the life of a mouse with a cat,
And though you're the full-blown lesbian and I'm the unknown,
You don't deserve to be the cat,
Because I fucking hate you,
And everyone knows damn well I'm the bad bitch with the cats.
But I am also a dog,
As the term 'bit
One DayI call for the day.
I ring phones and bells alike
In hopes that the day
Will pick up the phone.
I cry for the day.
I cry, voice hoarse from the tears
Hoping that the day
I pine for the day,
Scaling trees as I yell in the eerie dark
Praying that the day
Might sprout from the horizon.
I hope and I wish,
And I pray for the day...
But it will never come.
Because all we ever have
And it's our job to make it be
How Many Cheesy Water Metaphors Can I Write?1.
I was a tree
And you were my water.
You were the only reason I had
You became a thunderstorrm,
Horrible and violent.
You overwatered me,
Because you had so many other trees
In the forest to water.
So I withered to a stump,
And here yet I sit
Scrawling our names inside of crooked hearts
Onto what's left of my trunk
With twigs so undernourished,
It's a wonder they don't snap.
But I don't care.
Because as many time as you tear
My paper origami heart,
I'll still pick up the pieces in the pouring rain
Just to hand them back to you.
And I'll stand on top of buildings,
Arms outstretched, holding a metal rod,
Because I would risk anything for a chance
To be closer to you.
I'll travel the globe
In the middle of summer
To find snow in some faraway land
In hopes that I might once again
Feel your soft, unique touch
Soft and cold on my lips.
Your rain can pelt
Until I'm thoroughly blind,
But I'll love the new lens,
Because I'll see only you