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Kyrie_Hajashi07
Kyrie_Hajashi07
18/M/On the roof under my bed. To the stars in heaven, thank you.
God bless the poets! The pollinators they are! The architects of the soul's garden, The rain-bringer of sleeping seeds, The ones who witness and testify The pain of growth, Applaud the blooming, And invite the bees.
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Jun 29, 2025
Jun 29, 2025 at 10:09 PM UTC
ARS POETICA
I shall no longer shake the flower To release the pollens that honeyed my poems. No more shall I tear it's petals to find the meaning of beauty. No more obscene destructions. No more deep-lookings nor breaking-it-downs. No more surgical analysis nor slow unravelings. No more interpretations. Just Observation. I see the flower; The heart weights a bit lighter; Done.
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Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 12:31 PM UTC
No More
Smoking the petrichor fills my head with minty exhales and sleep-drug drops, The sky pulls out her long face and droopy eyes, The trees sighs in every sways and the toads sleeps in between the wet rocks, For a brief moment, the air is cold. Not freezing but graveyard cold.
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Jun 5, 2025
Jun 5, 2025 at 7:37 AM UTC
Thursday Eve
Let yourself burn, let yourself be Eaten away by the darkness you once preyed on, Till all that's left is a puddle of wax (tears) on the plate (bed). It's better to give out rather than to give in, To cry and rage and scream and after that to lie exhausted. Bloom like the rose after, coat in red and thorns sharper, Unrelenting but its beauty brings comfort to eyes of lovers, Rush not the pain of burning and blooming. Feel. Not because you're weak but because you are stronger after. Withered flowers reminds us that Withering is fine. Waters --in any shape they are-- Will bring the colors of us again.
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May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 1:32 AM UTC
Let It Burn
What chord did she pluck in my soul that girl with eyes of dark emerald & a smile that stuns and cusps like sunlight so-- those eyes like deep ocean with horizon stretching long and ever makes me a captain whose feet, on land, thirst and itch for comfort-- those smile like thinly sliced apple Or at times like Greek marbles sculpted makes my heart breathes in gasps and stutters-- O my soul, what chord did she pluck that I am still stunned enchanted.
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May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 10:20 PM UTC
What Chord Did She Pluck
When did I start to search For a star amongst the mortals in the class.   When did I start to wait For a pair of eyes, pearls they are, To enter late to every Monday class When did my legs start to shake When the sun is absent because she was sick When did flowers become possible to bloom Around a person. Or is it my eyes who can only perceive them around her When did her smile became so contagious Her laughter, even behind a mask, pierce My heart and all its love seeped into my system Her mere presence makes a day It makes a day more worth living for
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Nov 12, 2022
Nov 12, 2022 at 9:07 AM UTC
Untitled
wont you pack yourself a cigarette, dear fill your casette with your favourite songs it'll be a long journey they say the longest we will ever go wear your favourite dress maybe dont forget your extra blouse in case you wanna get married along the way in case you wanna let go I'll pack an extra toothbrush, dear I'll leave my pride by the door I'll leave my phone by the counter I'll leave a note beside it let my mother know you're safe in case we wanna get married along the way in case we never came back
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Jan 12, 2022
Jan 12, 2022 at 2:29 PM UTC
leaving town
I've grown older, sicker, disappearing reappearances of the past did little to comfort, brighten, heal my days. not that I much of it left. And for the first time My sunsets are countable never before I felt more accountable for my pleasures, riches, kins, Time. Never before I've been more afraid of what comes after than death itself and less passionate or care of what mattered before.
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Dec 27, 2021
Dec 27, 2021 at 2:01 AM UTC
27th of December
here's a poem for the dove on the street the fluttering hearts of men the whirlpool and tides of the coffee in a mug the tinkering of a can slowly roll and stop under a sky crowded of clouds.
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Nov 14, 2021
Nov 14, 2021 at 9:51 AM UTC
I don't know, man. just a poem.
there's a reason why 'human' and 'kind' are close, like bees in hives, seams in clothes. there is no cliff nor space cleaved by a comma between humankind
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Nov 10, 2021
Nov 10, 2021 at 2:09 AM UTC
Untitled