condensation. steam on the mirrors.
your name etched in cursive. i miss you.
but,
you were never in my life in the first place.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 11:39 PM UTC
tears becoming romantic with
last night's eyeliner - black streaks
trickling down olive-skinned faces.
repeated self-talks. imperfect bodies.
heart's been broken for years, and yet the
bags under my eyes don't have enough
capacity to be able to carry the shattered
remains.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 11:37 PM UTC
skies, that are the color
of the water left behind,
after doing the dishes.
clouds, that are so hope-
lessly pathetic. they hang
there; kinda doing their own
thing.
kisses, that are so full of
passion, and fill the space
of a thousand words.
no grief. just understanding.
understanding that makes your
lips sore.
raincoats, that look poetic.
unbuttoned, and collars flapping
limply. rainy days do no justice.
red raincoats, and dreams of
naughtiness.
cigarettes, smoked to the end.
an orange flame, in the darkness.
leaning against the wall; a careful
posture that's been practiced, and
eventually mastered.
roses, with thorns cut off
with a pair of kitchen scissors.
shaking hands, and nervous smiles.
poetry written on napkins, delivered
with blatant awkwardness. a messy scrawl
with black biro; words that say much more
than a mouth could.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
many things were beautiful.
beautiful, was the rain clouds.
the looming, navy puffs, that shadowed everything in sight.
beautiful, was a birthday dress, from your dad.
one complete with frills, and sequins, and vibrancy.
the love, the caresses, the joy behind it.
beautiful, was a peacock's feathers.
those, that they held in pride, flashing whenever they could.
beautiful, was the moment you described,
when the tension got too much to handle.
many things were beautiful.
but, i reckon that the most beautiful thing to be
seen, was your smile.
the fierce excitement, in your eyes, could
be more concise, than any dark blue floodgate for rain.
it could be prettier than a pink, fluffy dress, from your old man.
your smile, could be more enchanting, than the orange on a peacock.
it could be more emotional, than that one intense moment.
you see, many, many, many things could be described as beautiful.
but, your quirk of those pink, happiness-inclined lips, could change
the meaning of 'beauty', forever.
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC