i love this poem ok

To have touched each other’s hearts but never each other’s skin is a tragedy all on its own. Destiny or coincidence, walking the same hallways and driving down the same streets but a little too late. A bit too soon. A sea of bodies separating the two that crave to meet. It’s okay. It’s alright. Maybe another time, another place, another life.
—  Loveleen Saini
some supa good slam poems(-:

here’s a list of some of my favorite slam poems because slam poetry is beautiful and wonderful and incredible and lovely and everything

sienna burnett- “U Fine?”

“my mother has a texting language all her own and when she asks, “U Fine?” this means somewhere, very recently, there was another bullet-stop ending. there was another trigger parade.”

karina stow- trigger warning

“i don’t believe in lying to children, but when she asks me what’s wrong i still tell her the storybook version; i tell her that once, a bad man broke into my home. i wish i’d also told her that bad men look like respectable young men–trigger. that bad men will compliment your nana on her lemon squares. bad men write love poems- trigger. bad men smile so wide they will swallow you and you, you will convince yourself you asked him to.”

don luben- 14 lines from love letters or suicide notes

“i came home on thursday and found all of the chairs in the house stacked in a pile in the center of my kitchen; i don’t know how long they have been like that, but it must have been me that did it. it is the kind of thing a ghost might do, to prove to the living he is still there. i am haunting my own apartment.”

tucker bryant- facts about myself

“but being built like a short story is a lesson in finding other ways to be the tallest tale in the room.”

sarah kay- love letter from a toothbrush to a bicycle

“i know about your rough edges and i have seen your perfect curves, and i will fit into any spaces you let me. if loving you means getting dirty, bring on the grime, i will leave this porcelain home behind.”

savannah brown- i wish i was (a flaw examination)

“i wish i was more interesting but that might be one of those things where
everyone else thinks i’m interesting, but i don’t because i’m me and i know i spend most of my days wearing pajamas in my room, which isn’t that interesting.”

phile kaye- beginning, middle, and end

“like the night you thought you were invincible, ran out into the lightning storm with a million keys tied to a million kites, and a clench in your jaw that said, “take me with you, goddammit, i dare you.” and the week you finally reached out to feel your father’s cheeks and just found paper cuts.”

dia davina- emergency room

“dont touch my heart when it’s thundering. you wouldn’t swim in a lightning storm, would you?”

melissa newman-evans- 9 things i would like to tell every teenage girl

“you remember that metaphor about killing you being stealing your voice? sometimes…the world will actually try to kill you. you’ll never deserve it.”

desiree dallagiacomo- sink 

“is that not living? being so close to death that you paint it on your skin?”

As she watches the sun set,
Studying the sky as it fades from orange to coral,
From pink to lavender,
I’m studying her.
Her big brown eyes,
Her soft pink lips,
Her perfect porcelain skin.
I watch her fervently,
Astonished to have found something-
Someone,
More beautiful than the sky
—  she’s my everything

I need you.

Three words to make moisture amass between thighs and make
lips saturated by swift licks and make
my hands be what your hips miss
but it’s only three words and
how could three words make much of a difference when two bodies can’t minimize the distance?

I want you.

Three words to make profanities purge and make
love between the legs engorge and make
mental images surge through every orifice of waking thoughts but how could two minds not go wild with what ought
to be when the meters choose not to free the hold condemning bodies to casualties?

You and me.

Three words she needs to know
because three words can mean more than three words if they are grown from the soul.

—  “These Three Words”
-Theeforvendetta
I want you to fall so deeply in love with me that you slam down on concrete and realize that everything you’ve ever felt before has been a lie
—  I will knock the wind out of your lungs.
i.a.s

The thing that I love most about myself is that I have the full and total capacity to be anyone I want to be, and I mean this in a very broad, limitless way. You, yourself, could name who you want me to be, and in one millisecond, I could be that girl without even having to think about it. If you want me to be that girl who sits down and shuts up because “I know my place,” I could tie myself tightly within a plethora of chains and put tape over my mouth to please you. If you want me to be that girl who goes with the flow and follows the crowd into whatever gets their approval next, I could turn my whole life around until it corresponds with the lives of people who don’t even care one bit about me. If you want me to be that girl who lives carelessly without discipline, I could wrap handcuffs around my wrists myself and duck under the back door of a police car.

You name it, and I could be it. I have full potential to do so.

But, see, the thing that I love most about myself is that while I could be who you want me to be, I won’t. After being trained for so long as a twelve-year-old to be someone I’m not at anyone’s command, I simply won’t anymore, and I love that about myself. I have become strong enough to refrain from making choices that result in being the person who I’m not, the person who I am wished to be. To make it even clearer, I won’t even be who I want myself to be because who I want myself to be is nothing compared to who I am called to be. I am called to higher places beyond my own understanding, and I know for a fact that I’m not the one able to provide that for me. This world certainly isn’t able to provide that for me, either. So, I know that I’ve got what it takes to be what everyone wants me to be, but I’d much rather work towards the girl who I’m called to be.

—  BEWARE: I now know who I could be, and it’s more than what I, myself, have prayed for  
i think i love you,
but not the love where
i’m always thinking about you
i think i love you
because you’re my best friend
and in the way that
you’ve made me love the world more
and in the way that now i can
appreciate all the little things
so that when you aren’t around me
—  it isn’t so hard
I’m not sure who is more at fault;
Whether it’s me for letting exhaustion
Devour me from hauling wood to
Our fire or you for getting sick of
Being burned from lighting matches,
Either way we let our spark fizzle out
But when i scrambled to ignite
the embers, you promptly poured
Water onto us instead which left me
Staring at the ashes as you walked off
To leave my heart ridden with ice.
—  Love extinguisher | Loveleen Saini

midnight
the cold air bites my naked back, jolting me awake
you share the covers with me as i watch the light from a candle flicker and dance on the wall
you put your arm around me and hold me close and kiss my head
but if only you could read my thoughts
because you’re the only thing i’ve ever been sure about

run away with me
we can hide in our own little corner of the universe under this duvet
let me teach you how to waltz with me underneath our own imaginary stars
(not planet earth and its polluted skies)

play hide and seek with me in furniture stores
we can get lost in daytime night-dreams
fantasising about our future together
our dogs, our kid
our days, our nights
our youth, our growth
our optimism and pessimism

but tomorrow
let’s just sleep the day away

—  k.g.
They say don’t date a writer,
because she’ll sweep through your bones like a storm no weatherman could predict.
Let me be the one to tell you,
they’re wrong.
Date a writer.
She’ll bury herself in your head and make her words pour through your soul and flow through your veins until you feel like you can’t hear anything but her.
And suddenly you won’t be able to speak anything, but her.
As if she is a language that you can learn.
As if you can study her day by day
and become fluent in the way your hands curve around her hip and the way her eyes light up in the sun.
—  They say don’t date a writer,
because they want all the writers for themselves.

i. i think she sees me and i’m terrified.
I am unknowable but she doesn’t care.
I am unknowable but she found me.
Maybe—
Am I a fraud?

ii. if you want me to fall, it depends on how tall the building is.
She wants me to know what it feels like to be in love so I let her push me from the edge
                                    [We fall.
                                    She laughs
                                    coughs blood
                                    chokes.
“Are you okay?”
I’m choking.
“I’m choking,” I tell her.

Remember a few months ago when we were just starting to blossom and get comfortable with each other you’d always hold me tight and kiss me so many times.
Remember when we first met and I knew you where the one I’ve never felt this feeling towards someone.
Remember when someone brought something up that made me cry and you called me at 2 am to make sure I was doing fine and I wouldn’t answer cause I didn’t want you to hear me cry but you told me to pick up and we talked for a few hours and I forgot all my troubles and laughed.
I remember you holding my hand and telling me how you felt towards me not to long ago.
I honestly didn’t know what to say you took me by surprise and god I love you so much I’m terrified of loosing you..
—  You make me whole again