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bellsofblithe
F
i wrote a library’s worth of poetry just for it to be burned by the dainty hands that practically wrote them for me
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May 6, 2023
May 6, 2023 at 11:01 PM UTC
burn
life is full of elevators take the stairs
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Aug 23, 2022
Aug 23, 2022 at 12:10 PM UTC
Untitled
blank is like one of those gashapon capsule toys Swimming in a sea of the indistinguishable look-alikes until a passing stranger is willing to spare a coin or two similar to how one gives themself up to blank Much like falling_ A colorful little capsule falling Twirling in anticipation For its final destination A little metal door You can’t help but wonder what will await you passion, partnership, disappointment? Only one way to find out pop L͟o͟v͟e͟
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Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 2:26 AM UTC
Gashapon
It was most boastful of me to assume that I could be the one to fill your cup to assume that no other flower could fulfill you in the same manner who am I to assume that we don't look just as lovely in a vase and who are you to compare a rose to a carnation? one whose grace is affiliated with beauty itself and another that bumbles clumsily along like that of a lost bee in every flower pressed, in every poem composed I seem to grow more tired of describing this ephemeral love I continue to saudade in pursuit of moiety leaving myself in a state of perpetual hireath but in full honesty, I don't mind you switching me out for rose here and then though I can't help but ponder if she holds the same warmth in your arms as one does in mine and as to whether or not I will always be a stand-in for the next lovely rose to come -a blissfully ignorant stand-in, a carnation
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Sep 27, 2021
Sep 27, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC
Yours Truly, A Carnation
would you run your fingers through my hair once more? wash over me like an august rain relieving me of the oh so cruel drought i have cast upon myself
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Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 2:29 PM UTC
August Rain
How come we are only lovers in the dark? No sight is needed for we know every crevasse, every curve, recognizable by the very touch of a finger and yet "love is blind" but what if it is only blind? What if the night holds fits of passions, but those very affections depart with the rising sun? The facade beginning once again with daylight herself Our love is blind by choice Eyes gouged by the very hands we hold We feel the warmth of each others touch, at the cost of our very senses.
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May 13, 2021
May 13, 2021 at 3:52 PM UTC
Pitch Black
How enticing her flames must be that even after I am deformed with burns I always come back no longer ignorant of the pain but just as enticed by the flames as to run my fingers through her flickering hair once more scorching them or discarding stitches as I graze her soft fervent cheek for shock eases the pain into warmth and when I am to be burned at the stake It won't be the ropes that restrain me you hold me tight and whisper "stay." and I will and I do even as my comrades call from beyond the flames you squeeze my hand and I discard them like dry grass For when the fumes fill my lungs I grin my breath weary her lips on mine sparing just enough air to continue
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May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 12:46 AM UTC
Flames
How do I describe love? Well... I long for the day when you no longer fog my thoughts and impair my judgment Almost as much as I long for your touch
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Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 9:19 PM UTC
Untitled
yestereve we succame A lengthy ballad of longing formerly one of obstinance flared in a cacophony of passion Whilst usually twirling in a seemly epitome fashion, yestereve a caprice thought laid heavy on hearts as there was no doubt of desire nor were there objections to her for even when my affections consumed you lady desire was just an inexorable yestereve she picked petals from a Sinensis blossom there went the pain any semblance of grudge along with sanity reason and lastly, walls as carefully constructed as that of Pyramus and Thisbe's such vulnerability unmatched for your sweet scent lulled me from the arms of reason for reason, although safe, is the most intricate and fragile part of the ballad and the first to fall victim to the cascade What a fool I must be to have gladly forgotten the kinks of your hands or the freckles on the back of your neck that form a perfect triad. The way your upper lip curls when you grin made my glissade blissful and passionate Your flustered twirl the very epitome of aubade Ignorant of the harsh retombe of reality Your flustered face En L'air Every touch a pleasant surprise that formed a grand symphony A moment of unfiltered emotion A heavenly ballad so cruelly of yestereve.
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Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 2:37 PM UTC
The Ballad of Yestereve
I just wish I could kiss you one last time for I know what must be done. A kiss goodbye not to you but to this feeling, because if I don't part with this feeling my love it will be you I'm kissing goodbye.
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Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 11:36 PM UTC
Kiss it Goodbye