michelle-lynne
Whisper
French
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An Artist's Rendition
I remember the first time I laid my eyes upon your dark, golden-highlighted ringlets siting haphazardly on your nimble head. They were positioned above your flat, south Asian face, as if some wayward artist took his paintbrush and, in a fit of creative chaos, splattered and sputtered paint across a blank and endless canvas. Your hair represented the kind of sweet, quiet entropy that people needed in their lives. The great offense the artist had committed by being so reckless with such a delicate subject could be forgiven, however, because he surely acted as such simply because he had previously exhausted himself whilst meticulously creating your enrapturing eyes. Round cerulean orbs, speckled with bits of yellows and greens with a péridot ring centered around a pitch black pupil that represented the contents of your dispassionate heart. This is not an accurate description of the man who holds my unrequited love, however. You have achieved this sort of romantic, majestic rendition of beauty through the bias of my foolish heart and through my patronage of the arts. A typical person would do much better to portray you as nothing more than a hellish brute who is in desperate need of a haircut and a perhaps a larger assortment of clothing rather than torn, raggedy jeans and hand-me-down heavy metal t-shirts.
1
Apr 20, 2014
Fear Not for Your Ephemeral Corpse
From my rotting body, flowers will grow, and I will finally be beautiful. / The marigolds that will bloom will not flee and vanish from the glow of the sun / They will aspire and capture its power, ever basking in its majesty unlike all that I have done
17
Feb 11, 2014
21 Days Later
You messed with my head / My head is a mess. / You messed with my world
23
Jan 18, 2014
A State of Not Being
I have become the *essence* of depression. / I feel *nothing*, because I am *nothing*. / I am **overwhelmed** by the beauty of the world after being crushed by its cruelty.
11
Oct 6, 2013
The Art of Robotics
To be a human being is to be riddled with thousands of imperfections. / Full of flaws; scrapes, spots, and scars cover broken and bruised skin. / But robots need not fear and fret about fixable, trivial defections.
12
Sep 10, 2013
Norco
It was yellow like the sun / And dandelions by the pond / In the middle of the new hope of spring
24
Jul 2, 2013
Nostalgia and Guilty Pleausres
How can somebody who is regarded as being so fantastically creative, destroy so much? / Perhaps it's not that I'm creative, perhaps it's just that I have a talent for picking up the all the jagged, crumbled pieces. / Nostalgic for familiar feelings and guilty pleasures, still so keen on the awe-inspiring rush.
10
Jun 24, 2013
I Wish to be the Sky
Rays of sunlight hit the thick lens of your glasses and illuminate the golden frames / Every single ray is completely absorbed into your perfect skin through the sunrise. / Resonating within the inner workings of your mind, igniting an inferno in your soul
16
May 17, 2013
Your Version of "Creativity"
She's got it all, creativity and intelligence / And like a fish to water, you squirm towards her / I hope she breaks you down, rips you up, **** benevolence
18
May 7, 2013
Everything
You said that, if things go as planed, then you'll have her. / And according to you, she has it all. / So, does that mean I have nothing?
20
May 4, 2013
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