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b.

b.

17 y/o! Trying to improve my writing.

25
Writings
6
Followers
1
Following
b.

b.

17 y/o! Trying to improve my writing.

25
Writings
6
Followers
1
Following
entry.

b.

1 min read

I am tired.


A smog has been filling my chest for years,


A poisonous cloud—a metaphoric second-hand smoke.


I inhaled too much of the world,


And coughed up all the effort I could give.


My eyes blink blearily with mourning and grief.


Mourning for a girl I no longer am,


And grief for the woman I grew to be.


I'd like to apologize to my mother


Whom I promised I would try to heal.


I'm sorry,


B...

Poetry

1
3
I Can't Forgive nor Forget

b.

1 min read

"You know,


I used to think you were my friend.


I thought, maybe, you just had issues.


You didn't mean to be harsh,


Or rude,


Or unnecessarily nasty to those who cared.


You were dealing with heavy shit,


And I was prepared to walk alongside you


Through that dark, empty tunnel,


Until you saw the light again.


I thought you could come to your senses,


And be the friend I knew you to be.


I saw...

Poetry

5
Cola Can

b.

1 min read

There's a key to these things, an insight bestowed in the form of colors:

Green, and blue—like grass, and sky.

Compost, recycle; follow these instructions to save your summers.

That way, nature will never die....

Poetry

3
A Hit of Love, My Beloved Drug

b.

1 min read

The first time you ever held my hand,


You were brimming with a sloshy, overflowing red.


The kind one can mistake for a bashful blush,


Had it not been for your crushing grip.


I met you when you were the kind of boy


To pull on girls' hair, and tug on bra straps,


In the name of adolescent love.


And you met me when I was the kind of girl


That felt guilty when rejecting others


Because what of ...

Poetry

2
Of Love and Loss

b.

1 min read

Last night, I cried myself to sleep


Thinking of everything I'd done,


And everything I've yet to do.


I am only alive because


You want me to be—you want me.


But holding on is getting tough,


And I have seen life pass me by


For far too many lifetimes now.


I desperately wish I was


Alive, and dead, and alive, and—


I was an adult as a child,


But now I am a child in a


Body that grew faster tha...

Poetry

1
2
Anywhere But Here

b.

1 min read

Hands grip my waist—bruising.


I close my eyes, and let myself wash away into


My subconscious:


A sandy sea, with a shallow shore.


Green skies, and blue grass.


My hair dangles as blood rushes to my head,


Realizing all too quickly I'm upside down.


The world has been tilted off its axis.


The shedding of clothes,


Squaking of seagulls,


Hoarse, unfamiliar screams,


Splashing of the tide.


I am ...

Poetry

2
Untitled

b.

1 min read

The first piece of you I'd ever seen was a drawing you'd made.


It was extraordinary.


You've spent a lifetime emulating the artist you loved, until the hatching, the line weight, the values, and the technical theories blending into second nature. I was in awe of all you could accomplish with a mere pencil and paper.


I was an artist—back when dreams didn't come with expiration date...

2
Future Lover

b.

1 min read

When tectonic plates shift, an earthquake rocks the other side of the world.


A feeling as strong as love can't possibly be conjured from the first time our eyes met—across the office, tucked into your personal cubicle—but something sparked to life, that much I'm certain. A weak, flickering ember.


I simply knew: I would come to love you.


I didn't know when, nor did I know how, but I knew you wou...

Romance

1
2
Married Life

b.

1 min read

Today, I awoke to


The warmth of the sheets from your side of bed,


And I reached over to you.


I found the bed empty,


Yet still blessed with your familiar heat.


Your pillow smelt of ceadarwood and musk.


I inhaled—


Taking in the part of you I could never replicate—


And found comfort in your essence.


Though you were not there,


I found you in my morning routine.


The rim of your designated co...

Poetry

Romance

2
LO(S/V)ER

b.

2 min read

I never told you this, but


I used to think you were a loser.


I hated the scrunch of your nose


When you laughed—always laughing,


What was so funny?—


And I hated your fashion sense.


I despised the squeak of your sneakers


Which you never tied, for aesthetic's sake,


And I abhorred your baggy jeans


With your dream university pin stitched at the hip.


I hated everything about you,


But my frien...

Poetry

2
2