Over the logs and dirt of a camp ground, you still shine. A blazing, bright fire.
Fire is also an element of destruction, of rage, but also of love. The burning red love you have for someone.
But my favourite type of fire is blue fire. Looking like the polar opposite of burning red hot, blue fire is hotter than red.
And to think that a full rainbow can come out of the flames of chaos.
How beautiful is the colour of destruction...
Have you ever loved brown eyes?
Maybe look at them in the sun
See how they become gold
Not a dull gold,
They shine like the sun itself
Hints of browns, golds and dark grays
Try falling in love with someone with brown eyes
Look at their eye
Look and find the stories
Try to look away after locking gazes
That little freckle
On the edge of the vibrace
Plunges deeply into my heart
And holds me there
Like it's where I'm meant to be
The warmth of your body,
The love in your eyes
The richness to your voice...
They all hold me close
And tell me that you'll never let go
Deep browns and vivid golds
Tug at my heart strings
And leave me gasping for air
That you return to me with a kiss
Vowing to never let me go
I'm the ship that doesn't sail right:
no wind is strong enough.
Weak in strength
and short in length,
I am tired and over-rough.
I'm the colourless sunrise:
never beautiful enough.
Red in the wrong ways
and blue on warm days,
yet here I am, if I'm enough.
black can be two things:
black can tell you stories
or stare at you in silence.
black can be the depths of hell
or the limitless universe.
you can get lost in its darkness
or be found in its unparalleled dimensions.
black can be cold and idle
or etch an agonizing fire in your heart.
it can invite you for dinner
or devour you whole.
you can hear your blood rushing in its quiet
or be haunted by the resident banshee.
you can fall in love under the swirls of black ink when your tears touch the wet brush strokes
and you can lose yourself in the intricacy of her black pupils at midnight under the moon.
but you can also look death in the eyes and submit yourself to it
you can feel your heart blackening with the poison of heartbreak and grief.
you can feel the raging sun and the crumbling constellations if you close your eyes hard enough.
thunder jolts through your body like lightning on live wire
intensity builds up leaving you breathless but begging for more.
black can be the moment you took your first breath
and black can be the moment you take your last.
I've buried origins in foreign soil,
I've buried me in all my turmoil,
but you are the shovel
digging deeper into me,
and I don't mind.
I don't mind feeling the love,
but I mind the sick -
the sick feels like all
the reasons to die.
becomes a metronome,
I know we've been too far apart,
even hearts cannot force
a beat to leap when
souls grow cold and
hands become ashtrays
in the dark.
And though this world may decay,
my love for you will never fade;
darling you make me feel
as if I'm coming home,
darling, you're dripping
all the colours of the rainbow
all over my heart's monochrome.
A/N: Utter nonsense...but anyways here's a new poem. Have been very busy with school - a week full of assessments one after the other.
Please comment your thoughts on this poem (: Thankyou for reading! ♡♡
she was beside me
smoking cigarettes like they were her lungs life support
and we were stood on a cobbled street in edinburgh
i didn’t know if i was coming or going so i looked ahead
i wasn’t familiar with edinburgh and i think that’s why i wanted to hold on to her so closely
because this was her hometown, this was a part of her and so it made me feel like although i had no idea where i was, somehow, i did
there was this red waterproof jacket she wore
but she always mismatched it with a purple hat and i kept telling her
“baby, purple and red, they just don’t go together”
and i guess in the end i was purple and she was red
and this is the part where she’d probably argue that i was red and she was purple,
because although the principle is still the same i was somehow, still wrong.
she stood beside me
i looked away from the streetlamps dancing in puddles
i directed my attention to her
her hair always fell the same way
and i had made a million and one pictures out of the freckles on her face
and the last, the last one was two hands apart
how ironic that we were now two hands apart.
she smiled at me, i didn’t know much but i knew in that moment
that sometimes things are better this way; i didn’t know much but i knew
there comes a time to hold on and there comes a time to let go.
so i let her be her most beautiful shade of red, whilst here i remain, basking in every shade of purple
and i have learnt that that’s okay.
I am an empty coloring book,
Waiting for someone to add color to my life.
The closest I’ve ever come to being a colorful being
Was when you walked into my life.
I didn’t know how my life could be like this.
Your words, my smile, our conversations
Were all watercolors scattered between it all.
There were pinks and reds and blues.
Then it turned black and white again,
When you decided it was time to go,
Move on to somewhere new.
And I was left waiting,
To become a bright watercolor masterpiece once more.