The Tangible Muse (an erotic poem)

Fuck fantasyA limited, unending constructCold, unsatisfying fast foodTo be thrown out, discardedStarved by own imaginationAnd a tease of a muse An occupying, distracting delusionUnending questions, no answersMy hands now rest on a tangible museMade of proper flesh,Thankfully, joyouslyAlive in knowing what the fuck it wantsMe, me, me, me, me, me With eyes, hands, mouth, and…

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humble fool (a poem)

my feelings wrongto express, to have at alldidn’t keep me fromloving you. at all. a proper fooli am, i was. a strand of hair in your eye,swatted away.a void for you where respect once lived. for you to have knownyou’d have to care. for all that timethe obvious there.my feelings wrongi loved you at all.…

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dreams (a poem)

I am a woman you know butnever knew. Convinced we’re all the samedreams, wisps of smoke. Here today, gone tomorrow.No honor, no loyalty. Not strong enough to summonthe likes of you. Truth; you’ve no strength for me.You fear what cannot be contained.In your dreams I remain. Smoke slipping through fingers.Drifting back to the ethers. Like…

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Chandelier (a poem)

A beautiful distraction.You illuminate, naturally everyone looks up to you.Their eyes drawn to you.You bring light where there is darkness, taking away the fear.One day, I reached for you.I wanted to be where you are up above.I got there and I was in awe.Time passed and I hurt.In your light I am cold: No care.…

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The Herd (a poem)

My love, bury me in your words.They keep meseparate fromthe herd.While I roammidst my brethrenI am with you. In your words,I am apart fromeveryone else. Christina Schmidt, MAarmedwithcoffee [There is a Wrestle, Part II (***omg, the emails***) I promise 😊 and a general blog-writing update. I never seem to have more than 5 minutes to…

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burning alive (a poem)

the wretched thing inside youwrithing, pulsating, mindlessdesiring what it cannot haveuseless, pointless, impotentpray to me, i am Goddess of the Unrequited forfeit your desires since day and nightmy body burns without relief, heart remains untouched an experience not for the faint or weak-kneedall promises unfulfilled will find their homeleave your dreams of another at my…

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his quiet reflections (a poem)

Looking upon the lives of othersA kaleidoscope of colors and childlike wonders ‘I used to be seen,’ he recallsA scream lodged in his chest at the chance to be someone different Ready made box, a popular life modelLess of a fuss, nice and modestHe won’t live life twice, tacked to his third act as he…

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