Category Archives: Poetry

Love

He gives her daily forehead kisses.

He gives her big bear hugs.

He gives her sweet lip kisses.

He gives her long back rubs.

He gives her little cheek kisses.

 

He is everything in her heart.

 

His looks make her feel good-looking.

His looks make her feel glamorous.

His looks make her feel magnetic.

His looks make her feel enchanting.

His looks make her feel beautiful.

 

He is everything in her life.

 

His touches give her little shivers.

His touches give her soft feelings.

His touches give her fast heartbeats.

His touches give her small goosebumps.

His touches give her thousands butterflies.

 

He is everything in her world.

 

His smile gives her a future.

His smile gives her some hope.

His smile gives her a wish.

His smile gives her some strength.

His smile gives her a dream.

 

He is everything in her universe.

 

His spoken words are like angels.

His spoken words are sensitive whispers.

His spoken words are invisible kisses.

His spoken words are soft breeze.

His spoken words are shining sunlight.

 

He is everything in her soul.

 

She loves the way he laughs.

She loves the way he feels.

She loves the way he talks.

She loves the way he thinks.

She loves the way he dances.

 

She can not love without him.

 

She sees his deep inner thoughts.

She sees his true inner self.

She sees his soft warm heart.

She sees his hidden beautiful talents.

She sees his young healthy soul.

 

She can not be without him.

 

She thinks about his warm touch.

She thinks about his long hugs.

She thinks about his soft kisses.

She thinks about his breathtaking eyes.

She thinks about his beating heartbeat.

 

She can not live without him.

 

She smiles when they are dancing.

She smiles when they are kissing.

She smiles when they are laughing.

She smiles when they are cuddling.

She smiles when they are napping.

 

She can not stop loving him.

 

She loves him with her heart.

She loves him with her life.

She loves him with her world.

She loves him with her universe.

She loves him with her soul.

 

She loves him. He loves her.

One day, another day

one day he wants me, another day he wants me not.

one day he loves me, another day he loves me not.

one day he needs me, another day he needs me not.

 

one day I’m his everything, another day I’m his nothing.

one day I’m his love, another day I’m his hate.

one day I’m his forever, another day I’m his never.

 

one day he’s a sunny day, another day he’s a stormy night.

one day he’s a lovable man, another day he’s isolated.

one day he’s all mine, another day he’s hers.

 

one day I was warm, another day I was cold.

one day I was happy, another day I have him in my life.

one day I was in love, another day I have a broken heart.

I Hate Christmas

Christmas is not a holiday for the lonely

Happiness is all around me but not inside me

Remembered how I’m not loved or cherished anymore

Isolated with the knowledge of how alone I really am

Sadness over comes all emotions

The hollowness of my empty heart echos louder than usual

My mind is running wild with the lonely thoughts deep inside my soul

Always reminded how I don’t have anyone to be with

Surrounded by happy couples and happy families while I have nobody

But now…

Hearing his voice use to give her a calming serenity, but now she can’t bare to hear his voice.

Looking at his face use to bring her joy, but now she doesn’t have the courage to look up.

Feeling his touch use to give her goosebumps, but now she pulls away from his grasp.

Kissing his lips use to give her butterflies in her stomach, but now she can’t help but to hurt deep down.

Holding him use to be the only thing she wanted, but now she can’t be anywhere near him.

Being close was the one thing she needed, but now she can’t be within 3 feet of him.

Loving him was easy, simple, and natural, but now loving him is painful, hard, and torturous.

Friday Night Cutting

She started cutting that Friday night.

She could have asked for help,

She was talking to someone on Facebook,

But she decided not to ask.

She told him she was tired,

She had an energy burning day.

She said goodnight, and signed off.

But she should have stayed online.

She went up to her bedroom.

She changed into her comfy clothes.

She climbed into bed, sat there.

But she wasn’t alone in bed.

She brought an old beautiful friend.

She laid it down on her.

She pushed it into her skin.

But with a singular quick movement,

She was bleeding again, something forgotten.

She hasn’t done this so long.

She wanted to desperately remember again.

But her skin didn’t want to.

She couldn’t stop the red tears.

She couldn’t stop the radiating warmth.

She couldn’t stop the red diamonds.

But it eventually stopped. For now.

She Feels

She feels disgusted when he looks

At her young women native body.

She feels his lurking brown eyes

Watching her every move, every breath.

 

She’d feel his gawking at her.

His stares make her feel uncomfortable

She feels tortured, trapped deep within.

He stands there in his silence.

 

She feels all of her imperfections

He is gleaming toward her flaws.

She feels her face turning red.

He is seeing every blemish.

 

She feels exposed, bare, and naked.

He can see her fat body.

She feels him judging her body.

He gazes at her constantly.

 

She feels ugly, gross, and revolting.

But he still won’t look away.

She feels hard-featured, appalling, and unsightly.

He keeps watching her every action.

 

She feels like she should leave

His stare is withholding her movements.

She feels bottled up and restricted.

His eyes, dark chocolate, brown eyes.

 

She feels the courage to look,

He looks deep into her eyes.

She feels hooks of his eyes.

He can see her million defects.

 

She feels his revolting facial features.

He can’t look at her anymore.

She feels relief when he forestall.

He can see who she is.

Boys Will be Boys

Boys think it’s all about them.

Boys are allowed to do anything.

Boys can do anything they want.

Gils are supposed to shut up.

Girls have to take what’s given.

Girls do not have any say.

Boys think girls dress for them.

Boys think girls are their belongings.

Boys think girls have to listen.

Girls can’t think that it’s wrong.

Girls can’t think he’s not allowed.

Girls can’t think, speak, or move.

Boys are allowed to bug girls.

Boys are allowed to hit girls.

Boys are allowed to touch girls.

Girls are not allowed to protest.

Girls are not allowed to reject.

Girls are not allowed to feel.

Boys can do what they want.

Boys can do anything they want.

Boys can think what they want.

Girls can’t do what they want.

Girls can’t do what boys can.

Girls can’t do anything about it.

Boys are stronger, better, and smarter.

Boys are encouraged, accepted, and extraordinary.

Boys are curious, adventurous, and idealistic.

Girls are weak, unopinionated, and stupid.

Girls are silent, unable, and pathetic.

Girls are ignorant, disrespectful, and unfit.

Boys are allowed to be boys.

Boys are allowed to say anything.

Boys are allowed to speak up.

Girls aren’t allowed to be girls.

Girls aren’t allowed to say anything.

Girls aren’t allowed to speak up.

Boys don’t worry about any consequences.

Boys don’t worry about girls speaking.

Boys don’t worry about significant abuse.

Girls worry about not being believed.

Girls worry about being shut upped.

Girls worry about being rapped, abused.

Parents make excuses for their boys.

Teachers defend the boys in school.

Authorities believe the boys with anything.

Parents discourage their girl’s outspoken words.

Teachers give girls punishments with everything.

Authorities don’t believe in the girls.

Fat

She can’t look in her mirror,

She can’t look at herself anymore.

She can’t look at her body,

She can’t look at her face.

She hates when her legs touch.

She hates when her stomach shows.

She hates when her arms move.

She hates when her butt’s bulging.

Her legs touch, shake while walking.

Her legs are dry and bleak.

Her legs are wide and thickset.

Her legs are stocky and stubby.

Her stomach is potbellied and husky.

Her stomach is jiggly and wiggly.

Her stomach is bulging and plumply.

Her stomach is oversized and swollen.

Her arms are roly-poly and blabby.

Her arms are fleshy and chunky.

Her arms are flabby and overabundance.

Her arms are blubber and beefy.

Her butt is lumpy and bumpy.

Her butt is irregular and uneven.

Her butt is stout and blucky.

Her butt is pudgy and hefty.

She grabs fat on inner thighs.

She pulls handfuls of her stomach.

She pinches her under arm flubber.

She squeezes her butt to smaller.

She stretches for smaller inner thighs.

She drinks tea for smaller stomach.

She exercises for smaller, thinner arms.

She walks for smaller, rounder butt.

Things That Make Her Happy

  • Getting through the day without eating.
  • Deep cuts that last a lifetime.
  • The feeling of all her scars.
  • The numbness on a dull body.
  • Feeling the warm blood drip down.
  • Putting the mental pain into physical.
  • The relief after one single cut.
  • Realizing she’ll never truly be happy.
  • Feeling the knife in her hand.
  • The demons that keep her company.
  • The feeling while the lighter burns.
  • Pencil sharpener blade on bare skin.
  • Finding new ways to become skinny.
  • The brightness of a new cut.
  • The blade getting through her skin.
  • Red hot metal on her skin.
  • Getting to peel off a scab.
  • Putting marks on her fresh skin.
  • Being able to breath after cutting.
  • Her stomach craving for some food.
  • The smoke filling up her lungs.
  • Grabbing onto a blade that cuts.
  • The beauty of bright red blood.
  • Tricking people with her fake smiles.
  • Drinking until she is finally numb.
  • Being able to deepen a cut.
  • Putting her body through the pain.
  • The beauty of fresh running blood.
  • Making sure blood doesn’t get everywhere.
  • Knowing it’s a good cut.
  • Watching the scale’s numbers go down.
  • Finding that her thighs don’t touch.
  • The beauty of pain she created.
  • The clarity of holding broken glass.
  • The feeling of breaking into flesh.
  • Seeing broken glass on the street.
  • Hiding fresh new cuts from everyone.
  • The burning sensation in the throat.
  • The salty taste of her tears.
  • Deepening the cuts on her thigh.
  • Feeling the cuts on her wrist.
  • Praying to feel some pain today.
  • Fitting into that perfect skinny outfit.
  • Noticing her scale numbers drop down.
  • Finally reaching her weekly weight goals.
  • Feeling free after cutting a few.
  • Not falling asleep to burn calories.
  • Being able to feel her bones.
  • Being able to see her bones.
  • Not being tempted by any foods.
  • Drinking tea and eating nothing else.
  • Feeling the pain after burning and cutting.
  • Being able to smile through pain.
  • Avoiding all people, especially eating people.
  • Making marks that cause bad pain.
  • Adding onto all the old scars.
  • People believing her that she’s okay.
  • Being able to ignore other’s eating.
  • Nobody noticing she’s cutting and burning.
  • Being able to say she succeeded.
  • The shininess of fresh red blood.
  • When she can keep everything clean.
  • Holding the light knife in hand.
  • Blood beads look like little diamonds.
  • The sparkles on the knife’s blade.
  • Feeling that it’s a deep cut.
  • After the fifth cut, she’s numb.
  • The depth of a new cut.
  • The tingles of a new cut.
  • Drinking until she forgets the pain.
  • Getting the nerve to cut deep.
  • Getting the nerve to burn skin.
  • Hot water on her frozen hands.
  • The beauty in holding her life.
  • Helping others to not feel pain.
  • Turning her mental pain into physical.
  • Creating artworks with knifes and skin.
  • Cutting creates a week of pain.
  • Marking body as much as mind.
  • Tingling after feeling the hot flame.

Skinny

How many pounds? How many inches?

How many calories? How many fats?

How many candies? How many veggies?

How many?.. How many?.. How many..?

 

The questions go through her head.

In the morning, afternoon, and night.

She’s always thinking about not eating.

If she eats, that’s another calorie.

 

That’s another gram of body fat.

Another outfit she can’t fit into.

Another outfit she has destroyed again.

That’s another number on the scale.

 

Her notebook is filled with thinspirations.

Skinny girls, skinny foods, skinny tips.

Notes about getting small and skinny.

 

Learning how to eat or not.

What to eat to burn calories.

What to do instead of eating.

What to do to burn calories.

 

Things to do instead of eating.

Drawing, writing, painting, reading, or coloring.

Napping, bathing, doing hair, painting nails.

Walking, running, doing yoga, or fitness.

Not eating is easier than tracking.

Tracking is hard, tiring, and consuming.

Not eating is easier than fitness.

Tracking is hard, boring, and draining.

 

If she gets through a day,

One, single, empty day without eating,

It’s considered a good successful day.

 

To be skinny she has to

Skip a meal, avoid all foods.

To be skinny she has to

Do something other than eating foods.

 

To be skinny she has to

Drink zero calorie, zero sugar tea.

To be skinny she has to

Pretend to not be starving inside.

 

To be skinny means she’s pretty.

To be skinny means she’s confident.

To be skinny means she’s strong.

To be skinny means she’s brave.

 

How many pounds until she’s perfect?

How many calories does to burn?

How many more candies to avoid?

How many?.. How many?.. How many?..