Tag: poems

meant to be?

were we meant to be daffodils caught in a tree? floating endlessly? tangling in the stinger of a bee? i could never tell because you meant more to me; your smile having me list these silly things ✨🌙 @amateur_poet Advertisements

city lights

it’s the city lights and crazy nights that distract me until i collapse. it’s the flashy signs and boys who capture pensive drearies with nothing less than a dime. it’s the way you make me feel cool and lost around three in the morning, windows down, wind tearing at my hair that reminds that i ...

puppet

so small, you reduced me to. never petite in my waist, thighs, or the fire burning in my eyes, did you feel big, because you reduced me until i was weak? @amateur__poet ✨

you were nothing

you were spurned by my fire. you retaliated. you failed. you claim victimhood, trail and error, you were a boy playing a very manly game. you came to me with eyes golden and words silver. you nibbled words into my ear like the rest; sitting back with unfurling petals sprinkled across my back, i spurned ...

scraps

i use to live off of the scraps he once gave me. i was emaciated. skeletal. i needed more than meager compliments and sparse commitments. i am full now. i am curvy. i am finally healthy. never again will i ever accept scraps when I have a Queen's appetite❤️❤️💕 @amateur__poet 

in the end

can you see, that my methods may be unorthodox and blunt, but in the end, isn't satisfaction, what we both want?   @amateur_poet

neglect

don't say you love me then neglect me. I am a flower that needs to be watered with affection and trust. I only asked for a daily routine of your love, but in the end, your selfishness taught me how to sustain myself   @amateur__poet 🌸

chapped lips

chapped lips were meant to peel. pull back the skin, and let the pink be revealed.

conversations with him: 0.05

my first thought is you, when I open my eyes, alone in my bed. when you fuck her, I pray for your health, wrapped in my frustrations and jealousy, alone in my bed. It used to ache, the pain but I've learned how to live with it, bleeding profusely from a wound that has me ...

conversations with him: 0.01

<I hate when boys 
hide their eyes 
from me. If they only 
looked up into mine,
they would see, 
not scorn, not distaste,
 but a kindred soul, 
who knows how much it hurts, 
to be loving in a world
d esigned to hate...>   @amateur_poet

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