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 Aug 2018 Julia Ruth
Özcan Sh
She was beautiful as the snow
Danced through the clouds
And beautify the world
With her wise words

I was thrown in the dark
She found me in the night
I became myself again
She blows my mind

She taught me
How to love
But she did not know
How the love feels

Her chest was empty
I broke half of my heart
Put it in her chest
So that she can feel
What love really is

Her eyes start to spark
Our hearts begins to race
I want you in my arms
Because I love you my dear.
 Aug 2018 Julia Ruth
Melissa S
Dream of me
I am real...
I am where smiles are made
and tears fade away
Where hope springs forth
Away from the darkness
of the earth

I am the glow of the moon
and all the stars in the sky
those who seek the light
shall have me as their guide

I am the red bird or butterfly you see
Just keep your eyes open... to find me
I am where tomorrow is coming
and hope always holds on
My darling
I am never truly gone....❤
I have been dreaming of my mother lately and do not want to wake up because it feels so real and I miss her so. I wrote this from her perspective writing to me
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.
 Aug 2017 Julia Ruth
l m
no beauty
 Aug 2017 Julia Ruth
l m
Your scars arent beautiful,
theres no beauty in hurting yourself
no beauty in blades
no beauty in throwing up your food
no beauty in mascara running from your eyes at 2 am
no beauty in eyes that are dead
nobody will kiss your scars
i'm sorry for that.
 Aug 2017 Julia Ruth
Wanderer
A butterfly kiss like a smile in the wind

— The End —