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shanika
shanika
" peace freedom harmony & you "
———— You have her beauty painted on a feather Not too high ~ not too low You have her light held within you Nomadically bright — grainy, decorated You have her mythology revived, revered You have her You have her in you Venus
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Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 4:40 AM UTC
Impression start to finish
now it is my time to refine. I had lived twice; the third became the sixth. the space between us had visible lines, but she liked what she saw — not that she wanted to see them, not that she ever tried. she liked, sincerely liked, at that time, the distance we had complimented. on a warmer day, she was there to break it all down, flatten it out and lay it on the ground. she stole a few pieces, kept you seeking. yet the epiphany of the heat still remains beyond my words in our missionary sanction.
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Feb 21
Feb 21, 2026 at 8:50 PM UTC
the 6 sense _
Love — everything about it is written on her lips, in ever so simple, delightful English. Her heart-shaped lips gave life to all that’s written. Her charming pink declared it isn’t all red; ‘Love nurtures,’ her glossy lips said. When she pouted, those lines read divine. Love is written all over the world — from Shakespeare to the aurora borealis — but dear God, her plump, sweet lips own the finest verse of it.
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Oct 22, 2025
Oct 22, 2025 at 7:19 PM UTC
Lips-locked 👄
----------- 🌻 here - have this sunflower put it into a vase you will remember me tonight see ya
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Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 8:43 AM UTC
just a flower
In a sunflower— in tomatoes ripened red, in a jolly yellow lemon adored among darling green leaves. In a cloud of dust in a draught, In a drop of water pouring on an ice cube, Oh God- in her loveliest dimples, in the lushest lily pond of Monet’s, we had it all— the best moments of life. Vast, infinite, uncontainable, formidable love. For me, in the chilling wind of winter.
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Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 8:01 PM UTC
coming back to love
This is a long sad day Heat of loneliness under my skin Roasted coffee smells dreadful My heart hurts Thinking to myself — Why do people write poetry? To buy a token of love? *** To buy a moment to live? — Oh ***** here it’s raining now Manchester, Manchester
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Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 6:36 AM UTC
Summer Solstice
Remember me when you see sunflowers, wild roses, a blue sky filled with clouds. Remember me when you see a minimal photo — a yacht, the deep blue ocean, lush green valleys, stone castles. Remember me when you walk the streets of Colombo — see a sunny evening, the seaside, the sea breeze, feel the scent of evening dust, hear the train heading down south. Remember me when you sit alone on a park bench, in isolation, in lonesome, if not in your solitude. Remember me when you go to a flea market — see crystals, singing bowls, beautiful pieces of art and craft. Remember me when you know it is Sunday — see our mother, ****** Mary, see the empty road, hear the honk of a bus. Remember me when you see the crescent moon, stars above Mount Beach, feel the speed of the car to Galle. Remember me when you dream of my smile :) when you think of the end of time, when you feel the weight of life, when you doubt existence. Remember me — just now.
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Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 7:41 AM UTC
Remember Me
So you are blind? you must - I ll be mad unless you indeed do not need to see or hear STOP ! No , your actions are not love No, No, not your words either No, not what your think, what you belive Yeah, that tiny bit of your charm the part you even yourself doesn't know
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Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 8:01 PM UTC
Go blind and deaf
I need to confess Yes I am a man of lust desires, unfulfilled man of broken dreams man who lost hopes man of flesh, blood and emotions a man who victimized to sadness insecurities, fear and vulnerabilities doubts, apprehension, self loathe, disgust man who is not man enough delicate, hyper-sensitive a man who lost focus, who feed his soul to the anxiety a man who cry or a boy, you may call father I am a man who loves mom Yes I have failed father I pity myself Yes father I know I must extinct forgive me for my existence
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Jan 6, 2025
Jan 6, 2025 at 7:42 PM UTC
Confession
Hello Stranger! Let me tell you what just crossed my mind: When you love somebody, you give a piece of your heart, never expecting it back. If it’s protected, good—you’re happy. But if not, stranger, there’s a missing piece, a tear, a wound to make your heart grow bigger. So darling stranger here you gotta a big heart, a pleasant aftermath Even pain has its own kind of art—an acquired taste, unique in its appreciation. So, cheers to the tears and wares, stranger! Or—if this is utter nonsense—perhaps, stranger, we could try not to be strangers for, say, four decades and some more—if that's an option?
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Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 6:22 PM UTC
Hello there stranger