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 Mar 15 Nemusa
Lost Indeed
The cards have spoken, baby,
We cannot lie.
Our love is to be enjoyed
For the beautiful rest of our lives.

With each card that flips,
The universe speaks to me.
From the chalice of love, we shall sip,
And the future where we belong, we shall see.
T
Paradoxical
problem-causer
Mirror of her own
pain

That mask of being so
elite
Protects her battered heart from
break

Broken girl
doomed
to become the very monster
that kills her
A close friend of mine is a narcissist. It's exhausting to deal with, and I've wished I could be brave enough to tell her I don't want to be her friend for years.

But I've realized it isn't about being brave. It's about being kind. I am one of the only people who cares enough about her to see beneath the mask, and I see pain so similar to my own it hurts. Trauma like this causes all sorts of anomalies. I suppose I'm lucky my own is one that cares for me and protects me, instead of just projecting a destructive image of perfection.

Friendly reminder to be patient with the person that you saw in your head when you read this: you never know what they may going through. Try to look past the irritation and empathize if you can
 Mar 15 Nemusa
shanika yrs
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
© shanikayrs
 Mar 15 Nemusa
Lizzie Bevis
No,
not every poem
needs to bloom
with romance
to make a heart grow
full and wise;
There is poetry
found in survival,
in unhappy endings
and goodbyes.
Not every poem
must woo the reader,
or make their yearning soar,
some poems taste
like bitter coffee grounds
and nothing much like love.

©️Lizzie Bevis
 Mar 15 Nemusa
Her
Immortal
 Mar 15 Nemusa
Her
the moment a poet
falls in love with you

is the moment
you live

f o r e v e r
The moonlight fades from flower and rose
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done.
The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,
And sings to them, soft and low.
The early birds erelong will wake:
'T is time for the Elves to go.

O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass,
Unseen by mortal eye,
And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float
Through the quiet moonlit sky;--
For the stars' soft eyes alone may see,
And the flowers alone may know,
The feasts we hold, the tales we tell;
So't is time for the Elves to go.

From bird, and blossom, and bee,
We learn the lessons they teach;
And seek, by kindly deeds, to win
A loving friend in each.
And though unseen on earth we dwell,
Sweet voices whisper low,
And gentle hearts most joyously greet
The Elves where'er they go.

When next we meet in the Fairy dell,
May the silver moon's soft light
Shine then on faces gay as now,
And Elfin hearts as light.
Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky
With sunlight soon shall glow.
The morning star shall light us home:
Farewell! for the Elves must go.
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