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Misha Kroon Sep 2018
The parallels between He and Him are so stark.
And maybe this fairytale feeling won't last.
I know my record of luck,
I know it's unlikely this happiness will stay.
But I'm trying to hold on to this.

I was never comfortable around Him,
I never felt wanted by Him.
Him is all I can call the time I wasted.
Him made me feel like an accessory,
Like an obligation that he'd repeated too often.
I was always an object to Him.

He is welcoming arms,
He is compliments and wanting and trying.
I am worth effort, and time, and necessity to He.
I have been seen by He for all I am as a she,
He sees me as a person.

I will syphon this happy from the skirting boards,
I will store it away for the dark days.
This fairytale feeling has lit a fire.
I need to shout it from the rooftops.
I will hold onto this.
I will hold this.
Because it cannot last.
Misha Kroon Jun 2018
It's been one of those days,
Where I don't quite feel
Human.
Those days where my brain is elsewhere.

Like it's in the supermarket,  
And my bodies woken up in the car
Almost sure where it is.

Like I've just sat down,
And my brain's not sure where to sit.

Like I've lost track of how many drinks I've had,
But I can tell you I've been drunk 4 nights this week.
Listen I'm drunk af and I've been trying to work out how to explain the days where my brain is a little dissociative to someone that doesn't know it.
  Apr 2018 Misha Kroon
Bo Burnham
Big
When I was little,
I killed ants with a magnifying glass.

And now I'm big.
And I worry I'm doing the same thing with you.
Misha Kroon Apr 2018
There is still a part of me that will always be a child.
I do not think there will be a time where I will lose her,
That part of me who needs to be looked after.

I have spent so long now trying so hard to independent.
The days I go hungry because it is only me who will cook,
They will always be a part of me.

I take solace in the knowledge I can always go home,
But the day will come when home is what I have built for myself,
And the only person who will cook for me is me.
I moved out of my family home a year ago, and I guess I'm still working out how to live without my mother.
Misha Kroon May 2016
I have lived long enough to see the best and worst in ones self.

I love the shape of my eyes,
I love the curve of my lips.
I hate the weird mole on my cheek,
I hate the crease in my chin.
I love the shape of my chest,
I love the curve of my hips.
I hate my toenails,
I hate my brittle bones.
I love my ouward confidence,
I love my unconditional love.
I hate my worrisome ways,
I hate my anxiety.
I love my near perfect smile,
I love my xylophone ribs.

There are days I want to love anyone but me.
There are days when loving myself is harder,
Than getting out of bed in the morning.
But I am done feeling sorry for myself.

I am strong.
I am powerful.
I am radiant.
And on some days,
I am exquisitly beautiful.
Misha Kroon Jul 2015
I want to steal your kisses,
And your time,
And your love.
I want to breathe in your air,
And your feelings,
And bits of your soul.
I want to inhale your history,
And your sadness,
And your happy.
I want to wrap my arms around your shoulders,
And your heavy heart,
And your splintered spine.
I want to take your heartbreak,
And your worry,
And your tears.
I want to wipe away your jutted lip,
And furrowed brow,
And damp cheeks.

I want to steal every single part of you,
And only give back,
The good stuff.
Inspired by the title of a slam performance, I think called 'Notes on Loving a Kleptomaniac'.
Just a generic use of an illness you demonstrate love.
Not entirely sure where it came from.
Also not entirely sure I like it
We'll see.
Misha Kroon Jun 2015
I'll hold you when you're sad,
And then I'll cry myself to sleep,
I know you'll never stay the night with me,
I know you'll never care enough to stay.

It not like I even feel a thing for you,
I don't have a heart,
I s'pose Hell and Purgatory,
Ripped it from my chest.

I'm going to tell you the truth,
What I should've said from the beginning,
My heart is so full of ghosts,
I'm not sure if it can love.

I love and lost too many times,
I'm not sure if I can add a another loss.
I think I loved you from the beginning.
I think its always been in my heart.

You told me once that you stayed one step ahead,
Just to protect me.
I'm trying to protect myself.
I'm not sure if I can handle you leaving me every night.

If I chose to love you,
You'd have to stay every night,
And hold me together,
Touch the pain away.

My heart is filled with ghosts,
I'm not sure if it can love.
But you have a small place in my heart,
That even death cannot replace.
Originally supposed to be a Supernatural fan-poem, about Destiel... But reading over it now I still kinda like it, and if you take all the references as symbolic rather than literal it works :3
I'll name it at some point...
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