Poems about the sweetness of a spark

I just went on a date today

His lips were soft and sweet

He knew I was shy and he held my hand as our fingers tapped to the beat

From the same landmass we were born and raised

Seperated by the Panama canal

How could he tell that I wanted him to hold me

As I closed my eyes

As the music swelled

My foot throbs with blood

Perfectly matching my heart

When his fingers graced my thigh

The exuberance and life in him

Makes me really sigh

When you wave goodbye on the m1 you can't see how wide my smile is

But I blissfully stare out the window

Dreaming of kissing your neck again

Before you walked to the dumpling place

My stomach jumped

My heart raced

And I greeted this feeling

An old friend

Nervous for the excitement of seeing you again

Comments

Taron Hensley is a Pedophile.

Nine months later I emerge with the hopes of being vaccinated soon. FUcking hell. What a trip. This pandemic is going to require a lot of processing in the future but for now, I want to share and record some things I am very proud that I accomplished over this period of time. I was able to help start and run a campaign to eventually get my high school drama teacher who spread the rumor that I called the cops at a cast party which ruined my social life at that school while stalking me and my friends and constantly trying to get me in compromising and damn disgusting and gross situations. His charm to his superiors and the gaslighting and abuse of students has been heavily weighing on me in a way I have yet to fully deal with. I spoke out in high school and was silenced, threatened, and made to feel unwelcome. Yet the internet and living in a whole separate continent does wonders for confidence. I helped create a petition, gathered testimonies, and launched this campaign with my friends

Rainy Night Writing

There is something quite different about writing when it is raining outside than when it isn't. I despise my frozen toes and fingers, yet I love drinking chocolate almond milk with banana bread. It seems almost enchanting, like creativity is plopping on your rooftop. Writing in the rain, so odd. Writing in the rain It is like laughing during a thunder cloud, in perfect harmony with nature, rhyming and paralleling the weather, writing in the rain, creativity pours from you, as you hear the pitter patter, you wonder where the drops will all go, writing in the rain, a clean slate to begin again, a downpour of ideas, soon to come again, I love writing in the rain.

Outfits of Late Winter, and Early Spring

I hope you liked them!

Project Rainbow

Search This Blog