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PoetsKorna
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Name: Lauren
Country: United States
State: Michigan
Metro: Ann Arbor
Birthday: 2/14/1985
Gender: Female
Interests: Listening to music (Alicia Keys is the best!), writing poetry, scrapbooking, watchin a lil TV, LGBT non-profit organizations, queer culture, shaved heads, dying hair, piercings, tattoos, cologne, junk food, NYC, Ann Arbor, my cat, my car, fashion, friends, P!nk, Melanie Brown, Criss Angel, God-des and She, did I mention Alicia Keys? Ellen Degeneres, Margaret Cho, Debra Wilson, cuddling under the blankets watchin a movie....SEX! Hehe.
Expertise: Alicia Keys, Poetry, love, ethnic studies, LGBT issues, being gay. :-P lol.
Occupation: Waitstaff at the local gay bar
Industry: Nonprofit
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  Pinkkeyz03
Yahoo:  ghettofab214
Yahoo:  loveable_aliciakeys_fan
Member Since:
4/21/2005
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The day has come again
no matter how much I willed time
to stop, it kept right on
moving forward, mocking me.
"You have to leave her now"
it's telling me- again.
So I do what I can
to savor our last few fleeting
moments.
I graze my hands
over her expanse
and hope that they will
remember the touch
of her silk skin.
I nuzzle into her neck
and breathe her in,
she smells like home.
I photograph her
with my mind.
Her eyes, her lips,
the contours of her face
and hope to God
the images don't fade.
I kiss her and drink in
her soft sweetness.
I step away slowly
even though everything in me
is pulling me back toward her.
I fight it and continue to walk away.
As I leave she keeps
a piece of me with her
and I can feel it missing
as soon as she's out of sight.
I won't be whole again, home again
until my senses are renewed by her presence.
© Lauren R. Walley
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Maybe I don't have faith in men
because I've been let down by so many.
Just another liar
just another cheater
just another you-
you this tainted, waisted
dream of mine.
My perfect picture
of a father figure
lays in broken ruins
where you left.
I gather the pieces
acquiring some cuts
along the way,
but a few shards
still cling
to your office chair.
The same one
you sat betraying in.
You objectify me by loving her,
this girl two generations too young.
Why shouldn't I become
a sexual object
to older preying eyes?
Maybe it doesn't apply to me
'cause I'm the dyke child.
But you can't ignore
what you've done.
It's hard to miss
our withering tree
blowing over in the wind.
You were our roots,
now that you're gone
we're left clinging on-
to the void
beneath us.
For the first time
since this madness started
I think I might miss you
or maybe I just wish
the old you
could walk back through
the front door.
But that "Dad" has died. . . and I will mourn my loss.
© Lauren R. Walley
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Conflicting Identities
Sometimes I worry
that I'll become not enough.
Maybe it's my past relationships
that have this insecurity
simmering inside of me
or maybe I just don't know
what it's like to be you.
I've never dealt with liking both
but being in love with one-
and maybe that's my ignorance
speaking because you don't see
it as something you have to "deal with."
I don't know how to not be offended
by our difference of opinion
on such an important subject.
You like something that makes me
physically ill,
how am I supposed to handle that?
I try to comfort myself
by thinking words you have told me-
"You're the one I fell in love with."
But what if you get bored with me?
You always complain about labels,
so why do you continue to stick
one on yourself, instead of just
saying you're with me
and leaving it at that?
Since you're committed to me
why does that part of you still matter?
It shouldn't in my opinion,
but you still flaunt it when you feel the need.
Have to make sure people know
you're still "part straight"
which can only make me question
if sometimes you are ashamed
of me...us. I guess you don't realize
that everytime you declare it over again
it's a slap in the face.
Maybe I just resent the fact
that I can't fulfill everything
you are attracted to.
That's where my fear
causes me to wonder if you'll ever
want to look elsewhere
to find some one who can.
But you will never understand
these things since you don't have to worry
about me wanting something
you can't give me.
I bet that's nice.
© Lauren R. Walley
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As the blaring horn
and vibrations from
the passing train
fade back into the night,
so do thoughts of you and I.
© Lauren R. Walley
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*Tick, Tick...Boom!
Being me is like being a timer,
sensitive to the touch
alarm sounds with one swift move.
I sit and tick
ready to boil over, ready to buzz
as soon as you set me off
which, I’ve learned,
doesn’t take much.
It’s only a matter of time
before I sound again
because you’ve pushed my buttons
or maybe I’ve run
out of batteries
to keep up with you
know what makes my fuse blow
but you still push
like you want to see the sparks fly,
your time’s run out
my patience is through.
Tick, tick...Boom!
* Tick, Tick...Boom! is a musical written by Jonathan Larson.
© Lauren R. Walley
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