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Best Poems Written by Lauren Andrews

Below are the all-time best Lauren Andrews poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Lauren Andrews Poem

I Haven'T Shaved My Legs

The first, second, third time we met
it was there.
Some indescribable need, at least on my part.
We learned interesting things
about one another
and laughed, scowled, tutted
in the process.

And finally, finally, among friends
we realised
that we were more beautiful together
as we talked about poetry and literature
while the rest talked nonsense
fuelled by alcohol.

We spoke as though no one was more interesting than us
and our eyes, lips, skin met
with a need
a hunger
as though the smell of rum and cigarettes were the smells of a rare flower,
and we left.

Company deserted, we stumble
onto the hard bed, I fall
but barely notice.
We work together
unhinge, unzip, unbutton
and peel away layer upon layer of clothes -
it's cold outside,
don't laugh.

It could be love, or lust
or madness
but in the throes of passion
and, apparently, in societies grip, I stop
and from my mouth almost tumbles the word
“Sorry.”

I haven't shaved my legs.
In this moment
I shake.
For if society can reach me at my highest,
my happiest, my most courageous -
at my point of ecstasy
then what has it done,
then when has it snuck in,
then how many times has it subtly changed my experiences
at my weakest?

You barely notice my turmoil
and that's fine.
I notice,
I know.
Now, hush
Lay down.
 
It's my turn on top.

Details | Lauren Andrews Poem

Things That Make Me Great

I giggle when I'm nervous,
I can see the funny side.
I care about the universe
and opinions, I will not hide. 
I love to make people laugh
and I drag them up to dance,
I'm a bit silly when I've had a drink
and if you're sober you don't stand a chance. 
I'm poor now that I've quit my job
but I refuse to sell my soul.
I don't need another person
to make my half feel like a whole. 
I get excited when there's glitter
and music makes me smile,
I sometimes laugh at funerals -
that was an issue for a while. 
I do what I can for who I can
and I know sometimes I snap
but I do my best and that's okay
because I'd take none of it back. 
I fall in love pretty quickly -
Like, within the first few seconds
because I see the good in everyone
I confuse love with good first impressions.
I will confess I cry a lot
but I'm not afraid to show it
because even though I might be soft,
I'd rather cry than you not know it. 
I've slept in way too many fields
and woken up in some strange places,
but I always meet somebody new
and make new familiar faces. 
I like to play the 80s loud
even though it makes you cringe,
I'm a fantastic cook when I want to be
but the microwave usually wins. 
I want to learn to hula hoop,
to do yoga and play guitar
but I like so many different things
that I don't usually get that far. 
I'll stay up all night with you
to talk about your day,
I will never say the things you fear
and I will never walk away. 
Although there's a lot that I don't like
about the things I do,
I list the things that make me great
in the hopes that you will, too.

Details | Lauren Andrews Poem

Broken Mirror

I had a broken mirror once,
it told me what to wear
and if I dared defy it's power,
it said things I couldn't bear. 
 
I had a broken mirror once,
it told me what to eat -
that cracker, there, is just enough
to feel lighter on your feet. 
 
My broken mirror followed me
past car windows, to the shops.
It told me I should hide away,
but that at some point this would stop. 
 
My broken mirror made me think
that it cared about my health -
this is for your own good, it said,
but keep it to yourself.
 
My broken mirror gave me reasons
that I should stay in bed,
and I used its shards to feel some pain
for on the inside I felt dead. 
 
But my broken mirror lied to me
when it told me I was bad. 
The glass, as dirty as it was,
stopped me seeing what I had. 
 
My mirror isn't broken now, 
I fixed it, all alone
and though it took some parts of me
they're slowly coming home. 
 
My mirror is feeling better now,
I've got my mirror back. 
So, now even when I wear THOSE jeans
it never calls me fat. 
 
My new mirror doesn't talk to me,
doesn't tell me what to do. 
Although it sometimes nods when I walk past
as though it likes the view.

Details | Lauren Andrews Poem

I Live

In air, smoky and thick, I breathe
a sigh of relief, relieved to be free.
All the years that have passed,
lived dwelt on the past
Have passed; gone to their death.
 
With a heart as heavy as my body does feel,
I remember it vaguely, as though nothing was real-
In the day, nothing but a distant memory;
At night, a dream that haunts me.
Because the past does still exist.
 
A fire was lit, so bright and so warm,
took shape as a child, so gentle in form;
but the perils of life, and life's cruel way
made sure that the fire lasted not past the day.
And the night's were cold.
 
I began to wish a fate unforgiving.
My dreams, suddenly, no longer worth wishing.
A heaviness, a blackness, a fog had descended;
the fire was out, and my will, it had ended.
Living was no more than a chore.
 
To glide through life without a care
is to many a wish, for they were not there.
When the nights were dark and my will had waned
and I cared no longer to see sunlight again.
Tomorrow was decades away.
 
The sunlight came, but I was not grateful;
The morning, noon, night, they were too painful,
scarred is the pale skin which houses my soul,
and I feel that in years I shall still not be whole.
But I live.

Details | Lauren Andrews Poem

Selfish

You are desperate to be wanted. 
To be desirable, 
to be completed by another. 
You click, click, click.
The selfies, the lols, the omgs,
The “ur so fit xxx”
The likes and the retweets. 
You need to be seen
and you come to me
desperate
downtrodden
on your knees
begging
hinting
at the need to be complimented
so that you can feel good
for a minute. 
Dear Lover, 
you tell me I'm beautiful
not out of the kindness of your heart
but out of hope that I might say it back. 
You hunt through the nice things that I say
and draw them
out from a simple sentence
and fashion them into a novel,
wide-eyed and hopeful
that I might fall at your feet,
petticoats flailing as I descend 
and declare that I need you
but I don't. 
And I understand,
I have sympathy for you
and your need for constant reassurance
that you are, in fact, good.
I can only apologise, 
Dear Lover, 
that I cannot build a house before I have learnt to lay the foundations.
I will only break you whilst I make myself.
I am beautiful, yes. 
But I am less interested in that
and more in who you think is not. 
You tell me I have the looks AND the personality
as though looks matter more
so forgive me,
Dear Lover,
if I seem disillusioned.
I will not tell you such things, and
I shall not feed you shallow compliments
to give you a temporary relief
from your own fabricated hardship.  
I will do right by you
and allow you to discover your beauty
for yourself. 
Because I will not always be here
And when I'm gone
how will you know? 
I am both beautiful and selfish,
yes,
but so are you.