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Take One

Thu, 07/07/2016 - 10:40 -- Kai B.

My life started when I was 12.

I'd penned a poem about,

trees, I felt ink flow through 

my fingers like a breeze 

against the leaves.


The poem, I showed to my friend,

she told me it was disgusting,




I threw it in the trash, 

at twelve I figured it out. 

My words are mine, 

and they are not,

my friend's. 


When I was sixteen 

I wrote about girls-

the pain of loving 

the pain of losing,


I did not show the poems

to anyone.


When I turned eighteen

I painted my poems in,


I wrote about-




I wrote openly, selfishly,

for myself. 


Shamelessly at eighteen,

I thought the world lived in me-

in my journals 

my words 

my worlds.

And when someone begged to see 

to read 

to hear my poems 

I let them slip through my parted lips

like honey

and in that moment 

never once did I feel;


This poem is about: 


Ganguly Sumit

A natural feeling shared naturally. Good one.

Kai B.

Thank you! x