Paradox of a woman

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It is sad that it is universally acknowledged
That my whole being is set to be scrutinized
That woman equals sexualize

Society’s idea woman is a paradox
We are supposed to be clean and pure
By daintily making our hair fall over our breasts

Alluring but sweet and innocent
As we satisfy a man in bed
We might as well not exist

My body is not a man’s possession
I am not a prize to be won
To be displayed around your arm

I refuse to see it as gospel
That I am nothing but a man’s slut

Your knees get weak when I sigh
Your body squirms with every moan
It is exactly what you were begging for

When I am nothing but skin for pleasure
Nothing but your need of aesthetic
My purpose is no longer in the kitchen

My post is under your sheets
Between my legs is the validation for your manhood
Your breath reeks of desperation

Pinning your insecurity onto me
Calling me a whore, slander I say
Shouldering your defence with society’s opinions

To you I am only a fetish
A one night stand, someone’s wife
Dependent on owning a man’s last name

Dependent on being controlled
Because I was taught, woman equals a man
Not man and woman are equal

I am a woman and I deserve better
Than a man who only wants to fuck me
And I owe you nothing

I am human, flesh, bones and soul
My eyes, hands and legs are not an invitation
To your cavern of unjustified condemnation

I am a woman and you see me as nothing
Nothing but sweat and a mouth
To swallow your mistakes and narcissism

Your ideal woman is a paradox
You want her to exist
As we slowly fade into nothingness

Loveless Definition

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You told me she loved you
You reassured me that she loved you
But I can see the bruises on your skin
And don’t you dare say you like it rough
There’s a difference between love and violence
I know that you were screaming the night before
Then by morning all you give is silence
Darling that is not love
Love is a painful metaphor not to be taken literally

Love isn’t words that crack your spine
Love isn’t black and blue
Love wouldn’t twist your shoulder
Love wouldn’t threaten you with a knife
At three in the morning
Love will never create bullshit excuses
To justify the marks they left on your arms
Love will never give you unfair consequences
Love will never hurt you the way she does

You’re confusing an embrace with her grip
She’s choking you and I don’t want to lose you
I don’t want the air to suddenly fade
from your lungs, and your last breath is her name
please find the strength to walk away
sneak out in the middle of the night
be anywhere else as long as it is not by her side

leave before you can’t even stand
leave before she chains you through twisted words
her eyes lackluster as she apologizes
her promises were meant to be broken
she said she’d love you until days end
but does it have to be yours?

An Idiot’s Commentary

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The idea of democracy
is dead
welcome to the age of idiocracy
our minds being penetrated
by ignorance
written by self-appointed
pretentious social media experts
typing statuses
that leave minds crippling
tweets saying rape isn’t heinous
isn’t considered a crime
how a woman should be thankful
that a man would fuck them
we are no longer in progress
we are walking backward
arguing ethics that are crystal clear
how are we still reading bullshit?
how are we still tolerating trolls
who live in the comments section
waiting for the next sentence
attacking the next user with a point
how can we
read such crap on our walls
vandalizing our scrolling
by then we’d have zero following
if we unfriended every stupid asshole
who says rape is sex
rape is not sex, sex is consent
no one should think rape is fine
rape is a crime
if only ignorance and stupidity is a crime
then we can put every troll in court
throw them behind bars
make this world a better place
rather than click “block”
so your timeline won’t be tarnished with their face

damaged goods of sweet nothings

 

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i havent written about love since i was nineteen
since i was nineteen, I was foolish
thinking love could be salvaged through Facebook
thinking love could be found in a few swipes
and as i scroll though sweet status updates
i have a bottle in my other hand
to cleanse my thoughts of love
rid the emotion completely
turn me into bitterness, make me numb

i was nineteen
too young to know how it feels
because love doesn’t knock on the door
or send me a message
so why bother with its existence?
they did say bliss comes from ignorance
until i met you all love was, was just a myth
a nice bed time story to tell children
to scare the monsters away
now i can’t believe
i’m comparing you to stupid love songs

you are that love poem i said I will never write
you are that cheesy love song i promised i’ll stop listening to
because love is an unfathomable emotion
good only for a midnight conversation
fingers interlock like a silent prayer of rejection
we turn to salty saps craving validation and affection
tove seemed to be a drunken thought and an unwilling muse
it’s uninspired and lazy writing
that’s what I thought love was
until I’ve kissed you

i thought to myself
scavenged through my memories
i’ve never been kissed like that before
i’ve never smiled in the middle of a kiss
i’ve never smiled like this
you are the poem I’ve set aside
thinking I’d never write it
inspired and tired, my wrist cramps
because this is all unexpected
scribbles of love filled lines
verses of dedication
you are worth every single amount of my emotion
this is more than mere words
this is my heart, metaphorical, so cliché

To the Pretty One

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Pretty my heart stops

Pretty my heart hurts

I could stare at you forever

Because I can see a lifetime in your eyes

Your shy smile may say you’re not ready

But I know how to wait

I die a little inside when you look away

With your back turned

I feel the seconds pass

Each minute feeling like an hour

But I can still picture

Every detail of your soft features

Pretty my heart stops

Pretty my heart hurts

Such pure innocence

Rose tinted cheeks

Delicate yet full lips

A masterpiece that cannot be replicated

A museum cannot own you

You are living, breathing art

Pretty see what you’ve done to my heart?

No work of literature

No painting, no flash of a camera

No lyric of a song

Can ever do you justice

Pretty my heart stops

Pretty my heart hurts

Distance doesn’t distort your beauty

Finely shaped blurred edges

Darkness doesn’t cover anything up

The stars shine

Constellations make way

The moon would never hide

Because they need to be with you

Pretty my heart stops

Pretty my heart hurts

You are not a drunken thought

You are not a mirage

You are not an illusion

You are not a two dimensional character

Supporting my need of aesthetic

Pretty my heart stops

Pretty my heart hurts

Pretty? I need a better description

Tale of Two Loves

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Your love chokes me and I no longer want that
I said you take my breath away
But you are crushing my windpipe
Your love makes me bleed, your love makes me cry
Love hurts but we took the metaphor literally
When I said I wanted a crazy kind of love
Call me insane kind of love
What you gave me is drown in alcohol until I forget the ceiling kind of love
I no longer want to be intoxicated because of your love
I no longer want to be delusional because of your love
I no longer want to be in pain because of your love
I no longer want to torture myself kind of love
They said love is sacrifice, but this is masochism
They said love doesn’t need logic but This is stupidity
It was a lost all of my common sense kind of love
I don’t want your kind of love anymore
I don’t want to look for you anymore
Because your love created a monster
Your love  burned my soul, questioned my innocence
Made me believe that my heart wasn’t worth keeping
My heart was better off breaking
Your love broke me and I have no idea where the pieces are
I’d wake up chained to my bed wondering where you are
Now the shackles are gone
I am free, broke out of your vicious traps
You are no longer the last though as I’m in bed
My pillow is dry because I’ve stopped whispering your name
As I slowly fall asleep, I finally rid my thoughts of you
Because there is someone new in the picture to help me
And I prefer to taste his lips because I want to get rid of your toxic kiss
I prefer to feel his skin against mine,
Feel his caress and ignore the bruises you left
I prefer to feel his hands underneath the sheets
Whenever the sun would creep through the window
Compared to empty beds because you forget to stay
This is something I can actually call love
And it’s better than your definition

Pieces of Peace: Letters I Never Sent

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One:

We’ve gotten closer; we exchanged books and playlists which were equivalent to sharing pieces of our souls. We shared secrets that we never told anyone else and it was the first time anyone would raise a fist to protect me. You gave me a book and I saw it as a way to tell me that you cared more than you let on.

It was also during those six months I saw you crumble.

You were depressed, you were in a dark place and I didn’t know what to do for a while. I gave you the space and advice you needed. That was when I realized I knew you well like a routine, I made sure that I didn’t tick you off or reminded you of your crippling sadness. Instead I tried to get your smile and charisma back.

I desperately wanted you happy even though I wasted so much of my time and energy trying to make that happen.

Two:

It was an unrequited sort of situation. Such a masochistic form of love, loving someone but not doing anything about it instead you’re just there at a near distance. Looking at you is like looking at a literal what if, what can happen but I was too afraid to lose it.

You were my Achilles’ heel, the only exception and the reason for my cowardice. I had so many chances to say how I felt however none of them felt right. Most of the time I’m too late to reveal anything. Other times I try to move on only to find myself with assholes.

You were the mistake I couldn’t afford to make.

Three:

Summer rolled in.

I spent three months drunk, loud and sober and then mooned over another boy who had a fascination with my legs. I tasted freedom, vodka and lips of a few regrets. But I did forget about you every moment I was in somebody else’s bed or arms.

Four:

When I wrote “I never minded chasing you” I was referring to you and not him.

Five:

We are compatible in personality and interests but it wasn’t fate that let us meet. It was random coincidences that lead us to each other. No destiny working there because I’m pretty sure the universe has better plans than trying to get us together.

Six:

It’s weird that it took me this long to write about us when there was never an “us” to begin with. You were the idea I fell in love with, you were the friend I trusted and now we’re co-existing.

Maybe in five years’ time we will talk again. We would mature by then. We would be different people by then and maybe just maybe I stopped writing poetry about you.

Seven:

There’s this Jesse McCartney song from 2006 that applies so well to what I’m feeling at the moment.

Letter Eight:

I like him. I love you. I really like him. I loved you. Past tense.

Nine:

He’s wonderful, he’s great and then I’ll say “he’s not you.”

Which is the best part because why would I want another you?

 Ten:

Thanks for not ignoring me.

K.

Letters You Left

There are writings on the wall
There are writings in the sky
There are writings in the places you’ve been
Your marks are the words you’ve said over and over
Laced in our memories because of constant repetition
Rehearsed stories worth more than one conversation

Some were told during drunken nights
Some were told during 3 am philosophical sessions
Some were told when we’re wide awake and sober
Some were told during endless refills of bad coffee

There were days you’d turn ramblings into poetry
There were days you’d intoxicate yourself to find inspiration
Because you believe that vodka helps writer’s block
You believe that after one smoke break you’d write a novel
But you never did finish chapter one yet you’re planning the second book

You were impulsive, stubborn and yet you cared about a rumour
You cared because you know it’s one thing you can’t control
You’ve said time and time again you’d tie their tongues in knots
if they will never learn when to shut up
But instead you turned their misimpression into humour
Because nothing says “fuck you” than diving into the skit

I miss trying to decipher your metaphors because they make no sense
I miss your napkin lyrics that you forget in your jean pockets
I miss screaming matches about fictional lives we think matter
I miss your anecdotes about exaggerated real life characters
I miss you and I still read the words you’ve left us

There are writings in everything you’ve touched
There are writings in the places we’ve been
These are the letters you’ve never sent but we’ll always keep