Caress my neck (by adeline norris)

I caress my own neck 
And trace along my own collar bones. 
When I move my hair behind my ear, 
I crave another’s rough fingers. 

My neck is warm,
Exhausted from holding up my vacant thoughts everyday. 

I lay in bed and push my hair back,
Slowly creep my fingers to my vocal cords, 
And feel all I have ever spoken. 

My neck is an intimate spot. 
It reminds me of loneliness, 
Lack of communication. 

I crave another’s fingers 
To sense my warmth and my strain. 
To feel all I have ever spoken.

to humbly decline (by addie norris)

Each and everyday
Ink erases the past.
As time moves forward, stagnation persists.
As if I just came out of the womb–
No understanding of the world.
Possessing no expectations, no aspirations. 
It has been twenty years.
Twenty years of searching,
Never progressing in thought.
A product of two parents
Offering their unconditional love.
A gift too precious,
Too selfless,
I cannot accept. 
Another struggling soul 
With endless expectations and aspirations 
Is far more deserving than I.
They’d make use of this divine gift,
While I have wasted it.
Far more deserving than I

love you feel (by emily pakulak)

This is just to say 
I have received your hints
the ones that you drop daily
I do read your messages
although I do not reply

And which 
It probably took you
a lot of courage to send
You probably feel discouraged 
with a heart that needs to mend

Forgive me
for not loving you
My feelings cannot be forced
I have not meant to be insincere
I just can't seem to find the love you feel

joy, despair & betrayal (by emily pakulak)

White as his gleaming smile
It happens when I feel his warm embrace
It sounds like our laughter 
It smells like the bouquet of fresh flowers
It tastes like his sweet kisses
With joy comes
Blue as the wilting flowers in my window 
It happens when my heart is broken 
It sounds like a cry of pain 
It smells like the dying flowers 
It tastes like salty tears
Which come from
Black as the bottom of the ocean 
It happens when he wakes up not loving me
It sounds like the glass in our picture frame breaking 
It smells like his lingering cologne 
It tastes like the blood from which I chose to bite my tongue

lovesick heart (by emily pakulak)

This is just to say
When I see your eyes
they make my heart melt with pain
Although I have considered the thought
that maybe we could be something

And which
you probably do not feel 
the same as me
It probably is in my head
for we could never be 

Forgive me
for loving you
my feelings cannot be concealed 
I have not meant to be too sentimental
I just can't seem to cure my lovesick heart

raw soul (by amanda aman)

you crumple and fold your pages 
just enough 
to slip into societies envelope 
you swallow your authenticity 
like sour medicine 
you feel you must mold your skin
cache your true colors
for the sake of others, 
for the sake of conformity.
you relish this acceptance 
this brand of acceptance you bleed for 
runs nothing but deep
like the warmth of your veins
and the richness of truth 
it is bitter 
and runs dry 
like gypsum board,
cracks like weak tile.
the security you hunger for
lies hidden in your ability to embrace 
in your ability to love 
your truest form 
to accept 
and nourish 
the grooves and rawness 
of your soul

locked away (by emily pakulak)

There's a girl living inside of me.
She’s beautiful, fearless, creative,
Someone people would respect. 
She just sits inside humming her ideas 
Whispering “I wish you could.”
I wish I could too.
Amazing she is as she sits there in chains, 
And even after I starve her she continues to live.
She still has the kindness and compassion 
to tell me I'm beautiful,
Even though I'm the prison guard.
Even after I've drowned her with tears,
She delicately wipes them off 
And speaks words of encouragement.
I keep her locked away out of fear.
Fear that maybe no one else will admire her
the same way I do.
To protect her from the evil.
But she accepts the truth of evil 
For she knows the good of the world
Will one day free her.

separate ego (by sayge hansen)

its daunting
San Francisco tidal waves
white sheets in the downstairs room
take a left into the mind
where the body is grieving

rough calluses tangled in my curls
pronouncing your last name over and over
San Francisco tidal waves
the overbearing letters in your mail

because of conceptual thinking we got stuck
with this concept of a self
an ego that needs constant reassurance
and is separate from everything else

beautiful (by emily pakulak)

The fear of what people will think or say.
The thought of what beautiful means
no, the term beautiful is no longer in use.
You have to be hot yet maintain a cool facade.
Feeling pretty makes you conceited.
Calling yourself ugly is asking for attention.
Being a virgin makes you a prude
and not, a slut.
We care about the opinions 
of those who do not know our names!
We act as if a number on social media means anything.
The right clothes define you
as do the wrong ones.
Guys asks us for our numbers opposed to our favorite book.
In their eyes we appear as glistening trophies to be won,
a number to represent their superiority. 
Not human beings.
We are so much more than mere trophies.
We are the young women of the world.
Making up half of the human inhabitants
we can contribute to new discoveries,
run the country,
make a difference.
We can be anything we want!
Yet why right before entering a world full of possibilities,
do we suffer a world full of judgement 
and unrealistic expectations?
There is no middle ground to stand on.
It is either this version of worthless or that.
We have only one body given to us, so we should love it.
Instead we learn to despise and change it.
You are fat whether you fit in a size zero or size ten.
We fear judgment yet it spills out from out freshly glossed lips.
Realization of our loss of self-control
happens when we cry ourselves to sleep at night.
There is no escape from the world we live in.
We can only survive it by understanding our potential
and throwing away the stereotypes.
Your body is perfect because it is yours.
Those clothes are great because you picked them out.
A boy should talk to you in person,
to hear what great things you have to say.
Your friends are those who you exchange laughs with 
not likes on a picture.
You are not worthless to me,
you are a shining ray of individuality.
And you are not just pretty,
you radiate with beauty inside and out.

almost (by layney hinck)

In warmer nights
Where we grew restless,
My failure to sleep woke you. 
I knew that I stretched myself out, reaching only for you.
But you,
Sliced yourself thin,
Stretching towards the touch of a lighter hand. 
Seeking asylum
From this pitied and pained house,
We both know well.
The paint peeling with each needlessly harsh word.
The floorboards adding new creaks
To their symphony, with
The recalling of every childhood memory
That was punctuated with a bruise.
The carpet that greys with every time
Somebody came back, just to leave again.
The blackened and vaquent fireplace,
That centers it all.
As concave as my heart.
I made myself nothing 
And left you almost alone
In our almost home.

the dark side of the sun (by layney hinck)

I stained myself with your imprint,
Now unable to feel whole without it.
I emptied myself, hoping
To make room for your return.
It never hurt much, I never valued any of what I gave up.
It only ever felt like a chore,
Just taking out the trash.
Though you left me cold,
I always thought of you in sun tinted days.

Those days that are warmer than not
While it still rains like crazy, and the whole world
Feels pressed and steamed.
It draws out all the heaviness in your bones,
And makes sandbags of your limbs.
That dampness, that weight,
Is the way you’ve conditioned my heart.
Too full on lost breaths and bitter truths, 
Unwilling to accept another spoonful of false hope.
Even as it may come from a tin labeled
With your name.
Your sugar coating only fattens
The beast that is disappointment.
Only makes me that much more an inadequate
Adversary to his inevitable arrival. 
Though his arrival is imminent, it is not new.

And it’s funny how a drive down a long road,
Or a breeze of a warmer air,
Can spark nostalgia,
Only felt in the pits of hearts and heads, that is all bittersweet pain.
Pain of memories I wish we shared,
And lights that only seem to grow more dim
As the air gets heavier, and the road draws closer to an edge.
Because I learned goodnight as goodbye,
And have only known happy in passing, as a friend of a friend,
Too distant to call my own.

the black flower (by katelynn scheller)

It starts with not being able to get out of bed
The black flower has planted itself in your head
Seems like nothing at first,
Next thing you know the roots have dispersed 

Some days are bright and shiny,
Others the only thing you can think is ‘why me’
The black flowers roots have taken hold,
Makes you not want to know what it's like to grow old

Its blossoms seem beautiful and exotic 
The spell it sings to you is hypnotic
You'll listen to its melody like a ritual, 
Says its time in your garden is perpetual

It'll put thoughts and ideas in your mind
You'll be under the impression, 
That your not worth anyone’s time 
Even your own you can't ration

Your only friend becomes isolation
Sadness turns to grief and misery
Being alone becomes a fixation
Your will to live becomes a mystery 

Every day is a battle
You try to keep living while it shakes you like a rattle
Keeping your balance is an act
Having a smile on your face is a skill you'll lack

You'll feel like you're winning some days 
Others you'll be in a complete haze
Beating this battle, pushing through
Will be the bravest thing you'll ever do

your mind is music (by amanda aman)

as i melt
into the blankness
the subtle hum of my tears
nostalgic melodies both kiss
and prick my ear drums
you are my favorite song
a song everyone fails to replicate.
your mind is music
a buzzing, caramel record player
a delicate, wandering white cloth,
waltzing with the breeze.
your mind is effervescent, it is vagrant,
i love that.
your eyes are flickering lights,
melted pools of periwinkle,
seduced by the unexplored, the unfathomable
you bewitched me
and i wouldn’t have it any other way
the sunsets are yet a thread
tying me too you
you are my broken watch
that feels nothing but broken
anticipating your smile and warmth
some time again.