you
  • WpView
    Reads 14
  • WpVote
    Votes 3
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
WpMetadataReadComplete Sat, Nov 13, 2021<5 mins
"I stood in your/shadow,/and filled up/that giant hole you/made in them. . ." "You appeared in a flurry /of color, /different, /crazy, /magical. /You disappeared /just as /quickly, /mysteriously, /silently. . ." Them, Me, and You. She showed up randomly, her smile the center of attention, breaking all social standards, creating a world where we could be free. At first, they made fun of her, all of them shouting nasty things in her face, but she held. Then she met me. She transformed me, helped me become myself. Then she left. For years I held myself together, becoming what she was for them, rainbows, ribbons, glitter, bows, sparkles, stars, suns, and moons. Then she showed up. Again. Poetry, not a true story. Loosly inspired by the book STARGIRL © alien 2021
All Rights Reserved
#107
bookofpoems
WpChevronRight
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • My Poetry Escape
  • HATE TO LOVE YOU ✅
  • Not His Girl
  • The Harp Star Lesbian Story
  • Serendipity
  • Anthology Of Love(Poetry Collection)
  • Help Me Pick Up The Pieces {Completed} (GirlXGirl) [TeacherXStudent]
  • The Girl with no Emotions (GirlxGirl)
  • NOW YOU SEE," THE REAL ME" UNDER MAJOR EDITING
  • A Glimpse Into My Brain

I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines