C
literature

Cover Girl

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Look at you.
Acne spilling out the edges
of the sea-level sling-back dress,
zipper-down, skimming the tops
of your thighs.
Skin slivers
you forgot to cover-
from the front you're glazed,
concealer drying in the zits
typical of your age, but not the vision
you have for yourself.
But from the awkward angle-
through the rushing blood
of boys checking you out on the street,
your flushing cheeks-
See how your clay nose droops?
See the rough patch
on the side of your neck,
the cracked ceramic shoulder blade
where you'll get your next tattoo.
You wear that kiln-carnage dress,
clinging to the malformed curves
of an amateur's misshapen spiral pot,
and don't even know
how unfinished you look.
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           remember remember                        the whispers of november -                      but wait, this isn't a revolution                                 it's not even a rebellion                            your white flag doesn't drop anything but morale                                            the one man army of nothing               staggered steps and dried tongues,                        cracked lips begging for Legion                                           for we are many                                   and the Unnamed is just many of our names                          heavy heart and lightened shoulder
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compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite colour, and you said, "the brown of your eyes," so i put in one green contact and told everyone that i came out of the womb as a factory defect, half-priced, damaged goods. - sometimes i am from canada and sometimes i am from england and sometimes i am from spain. i've carefully tempered my accents and plotted out my stories with yellow and purple coloured pencils on index cards. my origin changes like the seasons. "why do you lie to everyone?" you ask. "why not?" i reply. - i wear nametags that read "alicia" and "liana" and "samantha," because i want to know how it feels to be someon
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Deux-piece
i gave my heart to a crocodile but he used it as a toothpick so i took it back and gave it to Charlie Chaplin but he kept playing the dictator so i took it back and gave it to Houdini but he'd make it disappear every morn so i took it back and gave it to the Beatles but they threw it to their lunatic fans so i took it back and gave it to my chest but it was dark and bloody in there so i took it back and gave it to You, my Unloneliness, to stuff it next to yours - i heard from your veins there's room enough for Two in your rib cage.
© 2009 - 2019 Waltz-With-Me
Huge falling out with best friend = blah and then poetry.
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demonlogy
           remember remember                        the whispers of november -                      but wait, this isn't a revolution                                 it's not even a rebellion                            your white flag doesn't drop anything but morale                                            the one man army of nothing               staggered steps and dried tongues,                        cracked lips begging for Legion                                           for we are many                                   and the Unnamed is just many of our names                          heavy heart and lightened shoulder
c
compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite colour, and you said, "the brown of your eyes," so i put in one green contact and told everyone that i came out of the womb as a factory defect, half-priced, damaged goods. - sometimes i am from canada and sometimes i am from england and sometimes i am from spain. i've carefully tempered my accents and plotted out my stories with yellow and purple coloured pencils on index cards. my origin changes like the seasons. "why do you lie to everyone?" you ask. "why not?" i reply. - i wear nametags that read "alicia" and "liana" and "samantha," because i want to know how it feels to be someon
D
Deux-piece
i gave my heart to a crocodile but he used it as a toothpick so i took it back and gave it to Charlie Chaplin but he kept playing the dictator so i took it back and gave it to Houdini but he'd make it disappear every morn so i took it back and gave it to the Beatles but they threw it to their lunatic fans so i took it back and gave it to my chest but it was dark and bloody in there so i took it back and gave it to You, my Unloneliness, to stuff it next to yours - i heard from your veins there's room enough for Two in your rib cage.
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Comments (4)
poshlost's avatar
poshlost|Hobbyist Writer
Hot.

But no seriously I am sorry about your falling out. Fights suck.
Reply  ·  
Waltz-With-Me's avatar
Ha. ;P

They do indeed! But oh well. Shit happens. Box of chocolates. Yadda yadda, Forrest Gump.
Reply  ·  
MangoSkye's avatar
I LOVE THIS. I'm glad I had the chance to read it. :D
Reply  ·  
Waltz-With-Me's avatar
Thanks! :heart: Glad you did.
Reply  ·  
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