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Rivulets in SandWhy yes, I did fall in love with the deep azure skiesRivulets in Sand by Kassi-Kamira
They were shining and there was never a cloud in sight
I would gaze at the varying hues and breathe a sigh
And yes, I did fall in love with the honey-toned earth
I marveled at how it could run in rivulets
Like a stream dancing across my tread-worn leather boots
But no, I never fell in love with the scarlet lights
That left a trail blazing for any who dared follow
To echo my footsteps was to hear this rifle take flight
Dear, I never fell in love with my own sable tones
Hiding from the NightmaresI'm sipping caffeine, trying to stay awake that little longer, just to stay away from the nightmares.Hiding from the Nightmares by Kassi-Kamira
You know the ones, the ones that wake you with piercing screams and leave you marked with bruises as you gently shake me awake and I take an eternity to come alive.
I'm sorry, so very sorry, that your once pale flesh is violet and your face is raked with burgundy. Despite your ravaged features, you still come in every night to soothe me, to kiss the tears away as if they are precious pearls, to wipe the crystalline mask from my face, to caress the violent quivers from my fragile body.
You always tell me that if you could, you would take the horrors away, and I sadly tell you I wouldn't be strong enough to see you shattered and glistening like that. But you say that I'm stronger than anyone, else the fear would strangle me.
Every single night I lie trembling in your arms, amazed at how you are never choked by the fear weighing down the air around us. I wonder if you see the shadows prow
Ink-Scarred FingertipsYour tears are beautiful; licking your cheeks like little shards of lightbulb glass as you claw at your face with ink-scarred fingertips. Grimace like the behind-the-scenes of a sleepy lullaby as tiny rubies caress the hollows in your face.Ink-Scarred Fingertips by Kassi-Kamira
The dawn is coming dearest, and the glittering halo reflecting off the sapphire and turquoise in the bay will turn the gemstones dripping from your jawline to Pegasi, and he'll scoop you up and take you up above the nightmares and sorrow where they can't reach your trailing dreams.
Ribbons flow behind you as rivulets fall from your hazy breath, drizzling sugar across the sweet-stained clouds. Little crystals of amethyst and diamond, nestling in the down of the cushions of the heavens.
The tiniest of droplets whets your appetite for rain so that you can dance in a spider-woven ballgown when your dearest darling envelops you in arms formed of cloud-dust and love's breath.
Little words of love flow from between your thinly-boned fingers fluttering acro
The Last Lily BurnedThere are petals littering the ash wood surrounding a solitary sheaf of paper that is riddled with the ashes and bullet holes from the silver sparks in the air around you. Your caramel arms are scarred with the burn marks of years gone by as you clutch at the last few lilies left in this once mysterious garden.The Last Lily Burned by Kassi-Kamira
The maze that once held you safely, securely in its grasp now mourns the loss of your innocence and your slow discovery of the fire outside the leafy walls of your fortress.
The blackened scars tattooed across your skin all have names and word engraved in them, every one a tribute to those that whispered dreams in your ear and ran lit matches across your skin, tracing lace patterns ever less painfully through the scorches that moulded themselves to your flesh.
They drew you around them like a moth to flame until you didn't remember the scent of frangipani and jasmine that used to peer from behind soft evergreens and stubbly little branches drowned in mud.
You learned of fire but
IntensityAll you had to do was say hello. Words may not be anymore, but the music of your voice is. I can hear all the notes you play, up and down your vocal cords, up and down my heartstrings.Intensity by cherrichan13
These are the days when balance is unheard of. Harmony transcends all, and the brazen call of your trumpet voice stands tall and proud over the rest.
My heart sounds like the whole percussion section tried to drown it out, and the timpani is still pounding over it all. It's tattooing a permanent bruise inside my black-and-blue chest. Boom-boom. Boom-boom.
The lull of your gaze. The saxophone croons in the distance. There's more in your eyes than I have ever known. It's getting louder, running through my ears like summer heat. But so much warmer.
The brush of your hand against mine. The clarinet's voice hums, blanketing the-sound-and-the-touch-and-whatever-the-hell-we-are in its comfort. It blurs the lines, it blurs reality, it blurs you and me. All that's left is the clear
You know,"You know, there's somebody up there."You know, by AllyneAllyne
We were in school then, and sometimes we'd just spend the summer nights lying on his roof and looking up at the planets and stars until we fell asleep in each other's arms. We'd lie there and sometimes he'd say, "You know, there's somebody up there." You mean aliens, I'd ask, you know, with the green skin and the U.F.O.s and the phasers and whatever else. He'd say no, silly, he didn't mean aliens, he meant God, and he'd laugh, you know, but it must have hurt him, me not knowing God and all that. He always went to church and he never swore and he never got drunk with the other guys and we didn't have sex. I asked him why, and he said it was because he loved God. Did he love God more than he loved me, I asked, and he didn't hesitate for long before he said "Yes." But you know, I liked him that way. I liked that he didn't try to touch me or ask if he could see me naked like the other guys would say to their girlfriends. I loved that he loved God more
What It Isn't Is What It IsThis is not a love letter.What It Isn't Is What It Is by IndigoSkyes
It's not a reminder of midnight stargazing, kissing under our bright yellow umbrella, witching hour phone calls, or slow dances. Because, my dearest, everyone knows that those are all so cliche like forgotten lace Valentines, broken promises, afternoon walks through the park, and a bouquet of a dozen thornless, dewy, bright, perfect red roses.
This is not a love poem.
It's not memories of Spearmint chewing gum kisses, tic-tac-toe in hot beach sand, you holding me and stroking my hair on Lazy Sundays, or whispers in a dark movie theater, complete with buttery popcorn. Because, my darling, everyone knows that those are all so wasted like candlelight, snow angels, the sun in your hair, and aimless drives to nowhere in your silver Ford.
This is not a love song.
It's not glittering snow angels, giving me a pretty diamond necklace, hysterical Scrabble games, or falling asleep to the sound of the rain. Bec
Murderous LiesI see the sorrow in your eyes,Murderous Lies by ExplosiveCurls
I see the grief,
I see the torment,
I see the lies.
I sense deceit from those eyes,
I sense the delusions,
I sense the illusions,
I sense the lies.
I know there is confusion in my eyes,
I know there is chaos,
I know there is turmoil,
I know there are lies.
Our eyes tell all of the lies that killed all.
• written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure : a short story in prose | [as adj. ] a prose passage.
We want to see your work up here.
[But before you submit, read the submission rules.]
She took it all awayYeah, she took it all away.She took it all away by RubenDias
And I could see it coming,
But,you know, I was kinda blind,
Kinda addicted as in dope or wine.
Now there's nothing left here.
I'm not being the victim,
I am the murderer.
My feelings are fading out,
My emoticons are slipping away,
And there's nothing here.
There is no pain,and i don't miss her.
No words left to say.
But there are words left unspoken.
Why can't I be in peace?
I change so much,
And I don't regret it.
But I feel empty, i gave it all away.
Why did I gave it away?
Love is such a precious thing.
Empty. Just empty.
A great hole in my mind.
Why did i give it all away?
All that remains are the strings
That suffocated me.
Death can be sweet sometimes.
I can be dead,
but i ain't resting in peace.
Yoga is relaxingEstablished inYoga is relaxing by PagesOfDreams
plow and wheel poses,
pondering not the kiss,
but the moment before
where your impeccable eyelids
lightly shut over your
blue eyes (embedded with
flutter-less, soft little claws,
resting above your cheeks.
Nothing outside of you can
Save MeTo you I callSave Me by wierdmonkeyperson
Trying to find myself
Only you truly know me
And can bring me back
Help me be alive
Escape this empty void
I need to wake up from this nightmare
My life is not a dream
Force my eyes open
Make me see the truth
Remove the tape from my mouth
And listen to me scream
Save me from drowning
Push my heart to beat
Breath life into me
And help me stand
Open my soul
Make me speak
Pull my secrets out
Then hold me as I cry
Lift me from the wreckage
Clean my wounds
Nurse me back to health
And take me home
Give me purpose
Teach me love
Drag away the darkness
Another MomentYou spill your heartAnother Moment by celiaalbright
all over my couch.
(I love you,
I miss you,
But it is worth this).
When the restlessness comes over you,
the shadows invade my living room,
each and everyone a reminder,
(Remember, act accordingly).
My glasses snare your face
like monsters in a dream catcher;
It turns your world red.
(Mirror or mask, it's the only thing
that makes sense anymore).
Before you can look too deep,
I wipe it away, resolve the tension
to just another stain on my shirt.
(I came clean,
But I'm sorry about the mess
I left in your head).
poetry |ˈpōətrē; ˈpōitrē|
• literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature : he is chiefly famous for his love poetry.
We want to see your work up here.
[But before you submit, read the submission guidelines.]
White"The dirt...still as soft as I remember it being." Irvin said out loud to himself as stood barefoot in the soil. The feel of the ground beneath and between his toes felt like walking on a blanket covered bed; soft enough to sink your toes into slightly, but not nearly enough to become entrapped by the earth. The man stood in a small clearing, untouched by roots or grass. Only a bit of sunlight was able to reach the area, giving the spot the appearance of a stage and spotlight where the world revolved around whatever was in it. It was a long time since he had returned to that spot, though as he took in a deep breath and began to "feel" the forest, it was almost as if those ten years hadn't come and gone. The touch of the earth, the smell of petrichor, the massive tree trunks, heavily shaded by the leaves far above, and the sounds of crickets chirping...it was like the forest stopped time and waited for him to return.White by k3igu
Losing himself in thought, he relaxed his body and let himself