You’ve found yourself at the Messy Poetry Slam. Pull up a seat, and pull out your poem. You’re up next!
“I was so insecure. That is one of the main reasons we had to break up, I was so dependent on him for so much.”
a poem by Sofia about learning to love every inch of herself this past year
Chapter 4: “So I guess my heartbreak is, she had to stay across the country. I left her.”
If you’re a rat and a snake you can’t be friends because one day the snake will get hungry.
Reader Submission: I’d always get the question of “But, where are you from?” or “What are you?” and after explaining that I was a Nigerian and Lebanese mix, I’d get the “That’s so exotic!” remark.
What scarred me about sex, and where to go from here
What is something that everybody, I mean everybody, has in common? Love. and then more importantly, loss.
Nostalgia floods over me passing places I used to know. The same for people I never have. When winter turns blue I drift off into a spiral of non sensical love letters I wont send. I do it mostly because I hyper-romanticize moments, but what else is there to write about in winter? Here are love letters to strangers, written by you. The sky was blue, in early spring and the weather was warming. You wore navy, as if you were unconsciously reflecting your mood. Your soft features were shaped into a somber expression which made it seem as if You didn’t want to get off the train. Did you want to get off the train? I wonder if you saw those two girls, both younger than you. Giggling, debating whether one should follow their instincts and speak to you. I was one of those girls. I had the blonde hair and blue eyes next to the one with brown hair and freckles. Something about you told me you had a story to tell. I don’t …
the awkwardness and wonder of daily situations that turn strangers into people