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 Apr 2018 Isla
Jaden
You can pretend
That the black gloss
On my lashes
Will glue my eyes shut-
Make me blind to truth;
To ‘true knowledge.’
Go ahead.
Tell yourself
That my red-painted lips
Only spout nonsense.
It will only make it sweeter
When my wing-lined eyes
Give you whiplash
as I walk past you
To get my degree;
My award;
My paycheck.
Maybe if you’re ‘nice’
I’ll buy you an ice pack.
feminist makeup
© KMH 2018
 Mar 2018 Isla
Cory Williams
When did love become so violent?
When did people start to hold hands in fists?
When did amorous letters turn into 140 character snips?

Reactions were real; we stumbled through hoops together head over heels
And now we stumble through scrolls with eyes-
Irises as white as the background that bleeds into bloodshot sclera-
There is no vitreous humor here...we're melting.

When did Cupid start carrying a gun?
When did value turn face towards deprecation?
When did the olive branch come from a broken tree?
When did words become weapons of divinity?

The storm we hold is long and wide-
And the power of letting it go extends the hand of life;
Vulnerable, we most definitely are as the thunder rolls
And the lightning strikes - no place to hide...

When did you swing towards my lip to make it rain even more-
When that same lip could have been a cloud on your forehead
To clear the sky?

When did love become so violent?

30 Mar 18
 Mar 2018 Isla
gabriela arias
When I think of you
                                                             ­                    I think of teacups;
for when my mind is blank                
                              
                                 ­  the thoughts of you manage to

                                               l
                                                      e
       ­                                                       a
        ­                                                              k

­                                                                 ­             inside my head.
inspired on my cracked coffee mug & the love of my life. (to be seen on a computer screen to appreciate layout)
 Mar 2018 Isla
Skye Marshmallow
Maybe
It was the way
Your neon eyes
Lit up in mine
And the world
Glowed a
Kaleidoscope of
Rainbow colours

Maybe
It was being
Wrapped in your
Bronze arms
And feeling so
Very safe
So warm
Next to you

Maybe
It was grey tears
Comforted by your
Soothing voice
That cheers me on
Rubbing out the dull
Rendering me
Sunshine yellow

Maybe
It was being
Called beautiful
Because I was like
Poetry and sunsets
Great towering mountains
Pretty just
Didn't do justice

Maybe
It was our
Midnight phone calls
And feeling like
I could scrape the
Deep blue canvas sky
And twirl amoung
The blinking stars

Maybe
It was all of it
Mixed like
Paint on an
Artists palette
Pinks, reds, oranges,
Spelling out a lone word
Love.
To be young and in love.
 Mar 2018 Isla
vera
i called
 Mar 2018 Isla
vera
i called from my bed
seated at the edge between the darkness of blue
and the shades of yellow too
shining down on me so deliberately
vying for the attention of the absent girl

i called for my lover
rooted in the letters that spell his name
i felt the fragile ache in my heart
he was gone and i was alone
it was not a particularly new feeling
just one that i could never rid myself of

i called on the phone
waiting for a ‘hello?’
getting only in return
the swift motion of a dial tone
BEEP BEEP BEEP
never had i felt so disconnected from someone
in a world filled with so much technology

i called from my throat
waiting for the words to escape into the thin air and
find him with their power
twisting and winding all around him
to let me know that his heart was as vulnerable as mine
but i only received the cowardice of my own muteness
not a single sound willing to escape
not a single tear willing to fall

i called lastly from my heart
loud and projected around
the great unknown and vast undiscovered
the call swam through oceans
and climbed through forests
glided on ice
until, it fell to its knees

the reason i could not find him
was because his heart belonged to someone new
no way of contacting someone
when they were only .once. true
- the five steps of grief
 Mar 2018 Isla
Lin
What am I to do?
 Mar 2018 Isla
Lin
What am I to do?

Tear up my clothes
Thread by thread

Pull my hair out
Until my scalp bleeds

Chew everything I own
Until I have nothing left

What am I going to do?
What am I going to do?
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