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Literature Text
Running my hands up her legs
Runing them over her stockings
They arent smooth
Like good girls keep them
They are full of holes
More not there then they are
Some people scorn her
"cant even keep her stockings decent"
I dont care about them
I dont care about her clothes
Her stockings are full of holes
Her skirt is short and jagged
She wears a corset not a shirt
And her makeup is dark
I dont care how she looks
I Love this girl
From her black, black eyes
To her hole filled stockings
Runing them over her stockings
They arent smooth
Like good girls keep them
They are full of holes
More not there then they are
Some people scorn her
"cant even keep her stockings decent"
I dont care about them
I dont care about her clothes
Her stockings are full of holes
Her skirt is short and jagged
She wears a corset not a shirt
And her makeup is dark
I dont care how she looks
I Love this girl
From her black, black eyes
To her hole filled stockings
Literature
Mother
You made me in an act of love.
You had me,
saw me,
swore to raise me.
Brought me up,
your little girl,
swore you'd love no matter what.
Guess what, Mom.
I'm gay.
You love me, right?
What do you mean,
no?
No, this isn't
temporary.
No, I can't just like boys.
This is nothing
to be ashamed of.
What do you mean,
yes it is?
It isn't.
I'm your daughter.
You love me, right?
What do you mean,
no?
This is part of who I am.
Did you just tell me,
"Change it?"
Literature
Dyke.
She is gay and not proud. She meets her own blue eyes in the mirror and prays for them to become dark matter. Invisible, undetectable, unreadable. She looks at her hair and wills it to turn into a forest of cobras. It never does. She stares at her skin and tells it to be less like a lily and more like oak.
Her hair is dry against her neck. Her feet are proudly calloused. Her fingernails are brittle.
She longs to be a mannequin with plastic breasts and no hair. She wants to be a beat poet with jazz ringing in her ears and the smell of weed clinging to her clothes. The desire to be a song with harmonies and precise percussion rages in her lik
Literature
Bisexual
I once knew a girl who was pretty in pink
she decided purple was more her color i think
She tried to hide her true self
by acting on the straight
And ignoring the rest
But the boys
They mistreated her
And ran her around
So she finally decided
That this life wasn't worth it
so she tried to die
But an angel stopped her
And in a whisper
Told her it was ok to be bi
And now she's happier
And excited to
She coming out
How about you?
Suggested Collections
My submission for the current contest by
This just came to me while looking over the submissions and seeing all the nice hole-free stockings. All my friends stockings have lots of holes in them. Kinda odd to write a poem about stockings but oh well. Hope you all like.
Previw Image by ~caripocho
This just came to me while looking over the submissions and seeing all the nice hole-free stockings. All my friends stockings have lots of holes in them. Kinda odd to write a poem about stockings but oh well. Hope you all like.
Previw Image by ~caripocho
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Comments24
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This is a great poem!