Listerine
a strong mouthwash in green and red
however, she was not always a mouth wash
Listerine was invented
to sterilize bodies during surgery
she was also used as a floor cleaner
and a cure for dandruff
I will never look the Listerine bottle in the eyes the same again
“Are you okay?”
No. My best friend of 13 weeks has refused to talk to me, refused to look at me, refused to watch me dance, refused to have any human contact with me and she’s interacting with everyone around her even a person she hates and she’s so much better at dancing now than she was when we were like twist ties and her mom read our texts about suicide and self harm and writing poetry and now her phone is gone for what has now been two weeks and she’s told other people about it except me and I’m scared for my life about what I’ve done and how I’m going to solve it and I hope she’s doing okay even though I’m not because I cant even watch her dance without shedding a single tear and I guess she’s better off without me because she’s improved a lot more than she ever would’ve when we were best friends and I’m now realizing no one knowing her feelings and her thoughts and plans of suicide was good for her because now she can’t talk to the one who knew everything and I’m now seeing that I’m the soil to every problem imaginable.
“Yeah, just stressed about my math grade.”
“It’s okay, it’s just a grade. Grades don’t define you.”
but she does.
Every Sunday, I say to myself,
Sunday already, Monday already,
Then the week goes by quickly,
Already Tuesday, Already Saturday,
Every Sunday, I say to myself,
Life is made of seconds,
We can’t stop them,
Can’t forget Lucille, or Marion.
Every Sunday, I say to myself,
Already Sunday, already Monday,
Already Thursday, Already Saturday,
The weeks are very similar,
They go by like seconds.
race to Hollywood to get discovered
famous now, your life changes
celebrity living
centered
open
nurture yourself
faith in your inner voice
indulge in your passions
deliberately decisive
enthusiastically lead
no doubt
courageous and creative
excited daily
These flowers,
they talk to me.
They comfort me.
I’ve seen these trees,
I’ve seen these bushes,
I’ve seen these leaves,
I’ve seen all of it.
But these flowers,
they’re walking with me,
they’re following me.
They love me.
They remind me why I’m on this hike.
This is why.
I’ve been in unfortunate forests,
but this is all worth it.
They create this waterfall.
I don’t know how they did it,
but they handmade it.
They’ve been listening too.
I’ve been wishing to see a waterfall since hour three;
It’s hour six.
They’ve been listening,
they’ve been waking,
they’ve been talking,
they’ve been building.
All for me,
to make my hike
worthwhile…
Do the empty, balding patches on my head express it to you?
How I’ve stayed silent
just so you could heal?
How I’ve cried endless nights over you,
just so I don’t ruin you any more than I have.
How you don’t even care to look me in the eyes
at dance or to even watch me dance.
How you dare to even say
“I don’t want a hug from you.”
To my face,
mind you.
Something I would never dare to do to you,
because I would be scared if I hurt you.
What have I done to deserve such hate?
What can I do to reverse it?
What have I done for you to not even look at me?
What can I do to reverse it?
What can I do to help you?
nothing.
They say you can’t count hairs,
but you sure can count the friends you’ve lost.
378 hairs.
only 7 friends.
grass
meadow
thistle weeds
hay allergy
yard
magic melodic merrymaker manages Morrel mushrooms
never-do-well nefarious newts climb onto witch’s brooms
outstandingly ornery Greystone gargoyles grift gambling grooms
persnickety puffed up petunias pick on yellow marigold blooms
actresses reinvent themselves like chameleons
reimagining keeps our options and avenues open
trust your instincts, listen to your soul voice
inventors become writers, dancers, choreographers
striving toward newness keeps us alive
theater folks love being dramatic
imagining and building keeps you fresh
creative thinking uplifts the artist
Why are you so obsessed with ignoring me?
Just let me know you’re still there.
Little Lolita was a feminine sweet-tempered girl
frilly and lacy with a large forehead curl
heels she wore were nineteen inches too high
her hair is piled up, to reach stars in the sky
(chorus)
Lithe light Lolia showing her ilk
sashaying daily in lace, satin and silk
causing men to go incredibly dumbfounded and wild
pretending to be innocent like a six-year-old child
Little Lolita, as intelligent and bright as the stars
descended from a long line of Russian Czars
an urban beauty who was born in New York City
avid conversationalist whose gossip is exceedingly witty
(chorus)
Lithe light Lolia showing her ilk
sashaying daily in lace, satin and silk
causing men to go incredibly dumbfounded and wild
pretending to be innocent like a six-year-old child
We want the best for our heroine, she makes us smile
I sing her praises as I clean out my pig’s awful stile
Why am I so forgotten?
Why aren't I leaving an impression?
Why do I matter?
Without her,
i am nothing.
No hug.
No words.
No glances.
No…anything.
what have i done.
“illyyyy”
“Read 9/24/26”
“She’s not going to have her phone for a while.”
“Notebook, and texts from last night.”
“I don’t want a hug from you!”
ok.
i get it…
By George P. Lumayag
The dark clouds are hovering my beauty.
Though I’m lonely
but the clouds are kissing and hugging me.
No doubt my beauty shines at nightfall.
Then the wind hugs me
and it bumps on me at daylight.
No doubt my beauty
leads away.
As I go with the wind
And we fly high up in the sky to dream of the best flight.
She’s said one sentence to me
in the past 72 hours.
She hasn’t hugged me,
she hasn’t talked to me,
she hasn’t even looked at me.
What have I done?
She’s talked to other people,
everyone.
Except me.
The one who’s been there for her.
The one who knows everything.
The one who knows her days of almost committing.
Yet she’s not responding to me.
“I don’t want a hug from you!”
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.