Vicky Vickstah

Vicky Vickstah Poems

I Have Got My Head In The Clouds Like I Am On 9 Ounces Of Happiness.

My Eyes Have Been Opened Wide To An Understanding Of Real Smiles And Legitimate Butterflies Fluttering By Developing Stems Of Trust.
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It swallows the pain, the darkness does. Open space devours the emotions that the mind cannot shift.
Ironic it is, because darkness is the very cause of the pain.
Just when you think you cannot lose more than you already have, you gain something you thought that you never could.
Then suddenly, stripped like animal skin the gain slips away.
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sensual sexual sensations serge down vertebrae caressing every single one with intended intention instantly igniting inner urges,

lip quivering touches and passionate spillages of love. Of course inter-course causes all forms of emotion in due course but for now let's enjoy it before the door opens and swallows us up.
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Dear Brain,
Sometimes you provide ideas fuelled by a need to meet a criteria set by yourself without you even knowing it. Influenced you are by society and opinion of others that you are tricked into a false sense of comfort and image of acceptance, it all results in negative self-opinions. Can you stop this please?

You are strong, you are an amazing creation, but sometimes you hurt me with your ability to overthink and get lost in fairy tale possibilities.
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Broken mandible
Clavicle disengaged
Killer faze
Morals up in the blaze
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6.

Crying.

Uncontrollable Tears Without Answers To Feed Them Again.
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They Are Acting As Bumper Cars Would,
Swaying And Crashing And Bumping And Banging.

Her Thoughts Were Wondering.
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Bitter Cold Stings The Skin. The Clothing Holding More Water Than Fabric. Worn. Mascara Clinging To The Lashes Of A Woman So Tempted To Be Washed Away As Thoughts Of Freedom Circulate.

They Assured Her That They Know That It's Hard, But Nobody Truly Understood.
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Satisfied?
Satisfaction.
What Is The True Meaning Of Satisfaction? I Don’t Mean The Correct Meaning, I Mean The True Meaning.
Mislead As A Community We Are,
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The Best Poem Of Vicky Vickstah

Last Time, This Time, That Time, Next Time...

I Have Got My Head In The Clouds Like I Am On 9 Ounces Of Happiness.

My Eyes Have Been Opened Wide To An Understanding Of Real Smiles And Legitimate Butterflies Fluttering By Developing Stems Of Trust.

Past Subject Content Always Haunts The Bruised Mind,
Occasionally Maybe Even Swaying Decisions And Views To Avoid A Repeat Of The Last Time.

But Not This Time. It Isn't Like Last Time.

This Time It Is Perfect.

So Perfect That It Will Never Be Time For Next Time, Time Is A Healer.

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