Archive for the tag Poems

The Closet

We move on, leave people behind Yet; the closet, does not forget and holds the power to unexpectedly remind

Home

I lie down on my bed, I lie down on my bed & look at the ceiling- And I think how all of my family members deserve to get awarded Because of their brilliant acting skills.

Intimacy

Locked lips and my hands on your hips, But your hand, it slips.

Kiss Me Again

My mind has slowed down for the millionth time today The clock ticks slowly. As though it’s not moving at all It’s 8:17 am She pulls my chin towards her and we’re already very much there I dig my fingers inside her hair, long and flowy Rough at the ends dusted with the powder of a newly purchased swim cap All the moaning drowns out these voices in my head

On The Count Of Three

One the count of three, I will ask for your hand for a walk, "You will call me by your name and as I will call you by mine", We will walk by the beach to the sunrise, Sharing a kiss and a moment so divine.

This Is Going To Be A Bad Poem

This is going to be a bad poem. Because we've all gotten sick of Hearing people being called 'home' And partners and soul mates And we roll our eyes now When yet another person Talks about having a connection But I don't mind repeating verses Because everytime we meet It's like we never said goodbye So who gives a fuck about being original?

Hug Day

For the word 'hug', I know what it means, I know what its purpose is, I know that it is supposed to provide me with warmth, A shoulder on which i can cry and laugh and talk about weird stuff, A shoulder on which i gently lay my chin.

Freedoms Right

I hope this life brings me this treasure, So the triumph of my struggle will be a measure, To reunite my body and soul, And I will once again become whole.

Love.Madness.Labels

Its these boxes of the past- They’ve told me cis men show love this intense Can’t take no for a no. But here you are scaring me, A woman in love this intense

When You Come Out

It is a new morning. You know you will have to do this over and over and over. Everytime, you get a little bit stronger. Not because it gets easy, but because you know the battleground so well.

Poem: Stripped Naked

My dad said, " You are my brave boy, you don't need a mask to help you shine." But little did they know, the mask was now my identity, Some people knew me with the mask and they loved me.

The Rainbow

So here’s the tale! Here’s to the violet when I was bullied for not being ladylike and pushed against the last bench of the classroom. The blood cloth as if showed the first colour of the flag on my skin.

Who Knows, Who Cares: Theatre And The Space It Creates For the Queer Community

One of the things I love most about theatre Is the ephemeral disintegration of orthodox socio-cultural identities, Which typically comes along with losing your self for another, Gendered expectations of Walk like a man, talk like a man, sit like a man, Spread your legs, assert your dominance; No, not you! You’re a woman. You, huddle up. Occupy less space. Be less loud.

Murder In The Attic.

So would you not join me in the investigation for the world to decipher why (spoiler alert) you killed “what a poor boy”.

Poem: Lesbian Movies

predictably building up to a steamy lovemaking scene, marked by the male gaze and then there's the inseparability

In A Support Group

I’m not at all unsure, I look at her and I know. She’s the kind of girl I want to wrap myself around, Press my lips against, and slam into the door.
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