Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
&
Amanda Jul 2015
&
Crushed strawberries bled into freshly-washed white shirts.

Fingerprints upon hand-prints.

Breaths captured between smudges of sunlight.

The wink of bare rib-cages between hands and curious eyes.

Shyness blooms between gaps bubbling between
freckled noses & mouths.
I've been saving this one.
x
Chin up, buttercup!
Amanda Sep 2017
She had violets blooming in her eyes.

They hold the night
and
a daybreak's first breath.
Amanda Aug 2015
She lit up the unfound constellations of sweet syllables
in
the recesses of his mind.
Hey you!
x
Amanda Dec 2014
And he closed his eyes.
Drawers are shut gently, curtains drawn back.
Silence stilled heartbeats & pulses.

She refused to close her eyes nonetheless.
I am not sure about this one.
:')
Good morning sunshine/Good Afternoon/Sweet dreams to you, you and you, wherever you are!
xo
Amanda Dec 2013
I was happy yesterday, but I am happier today.
The -ier abbreviates for porterhouse steak, red wine, damp suede shoes, red lips, witty banter, petrichor and most of all, *her.
What does your -ier stand for?
Yet another excerpt from my on-going nanowrimo novel. Frankly, it is one of my favourites!

Enjoy! x
.
Amanda Oct 2014
.
A deaf boy once wrote
"Mama, the silence is too loud."
Hello there lovely!
I haven't written in quite a bit, exams and study really leeches out time and moments to write.
Hope you, you and you are doing well!
x
Amanda Jul 2014
Tear this little piece on the dotted line or carelessly,
a shard of you.
Any part.

It will still be a piece of stardust; a wisp of the infinite universe anyway.

Nothing quite the same, never quite this close in our ten fingertips.

Give it to him,
to her,
half-senselessly
&
half with all your heart.

Of course, with a pinch of apprehension, a tickle of doubt,
a sip of shyness.          

We will invariably be torn, broken, tugged at.
As, we are always guilty of doing more.

Never less.

There.
You're imperfectly human.
Hey gorgeous soul!
Ooh, did I make you blush?
Oops.
AHHAHHAHAHA.
If I only I could be this brazenly cheeky in reality. :")
Hm.
I hope you, you and you had a brilliant day!
Time to watch the Wimbledon now!
Hug&Kiss;,
Amanda
Amanda Dec 2014
On some days, I write bolder, thicker & harder, just to prove not everything is empty and blank.

And that my words are just as heavy and all raw edges like *yours.
I tried very hard not to breath in the permanent marker fumes whilst I penned that nonsensicaly writing into my book.
How have you been doing?
xo
I've been reading Noah Barlerywater Runs Away by John Boyne.
It's quite brilliant.
ft. Leona Lewis's Spirit album
Amanda Feb 2015
And he held her hand so tight, she could feel how hard bones are. Even against flesh and blood.

She thought her bones may *****.

But it never quite occurred to her, he had been broken and is still *breaking.
It will be all buttery yellow sunshine very soon.
I pinky promise.
x
Amanda May 2015
You absolutely do not get the honor of burning a numerical value on her self-worth.

You certainly do not get to measure that assumption from the hem-line tailored on her thighs. Or the daring dresses she wore because it made her feel a different kind of beautiful.

She is not asking for it. What she will demand for is neither your attention nor stares. She wants respect.
Can you do that?

Oh, and when you are emboldened by your 'witty' validation that she  is a ‘****’ or of promiscuous nature, all down to the clothes she wears on her back.

Don’t.

Cotton stitches against warm skin. (She was enjoying a walk.)

Silk swathes on slightly chilled bones. (She forgot her jacket on a Wednesday night out with friends.)

Thick knits adorn even more layers of cotton. (It was a winter night.)

Their cold lips pursed by the late hour, scream silence.

With that validation, you normalise and excuse the acts of ****, soul-destructing ****** offences.
For you have blamed the victim.

You excuse a depraved psychological state.

The veins that choked from ice and no’s. You have forgotten.

Rapists and ****** offenders do not get the luxury of being excused.

Neither do you, ****.
The anger and frustration I feel at victim-shaming or '****'-shaming.
10W
Amanda May 2014
10W
Tears, anger, sadness,
they just want to
be
alive
too.
Hey lovely reader!
x
11W
Amanda May 2014
11W
Messy hair,
crinkled sheets,
it was a rough night of sleep.
Hello there lovely!
Man, has it been a WEEK. Phew.
Tests, stress, study, etc, etc.
I have several songs to share with you, you and you.
I have been absolutely loving them.
1. Shout All About It- The Vamps
P.S I cannot believe it just like that, I fell in love with this band.
Boom.
The moment I heard the chorus, it was a pavlovian reaction.
2. All of the Stars - Ed Sheeran.
Come on! Were you not expecting this?!
The whole starry universe is in love with TFIOS.
3. Hmm. What's your song that you have been loving?
Amanda Apr 2014
And it is midnight again.
We will write the date different.
Breakfast will be slightly changed,
hair will be terribly ruffled on one day,
then fine on the next.

Our souls may sometimes be coloured blue,
for now,
it's mellow sunshine melded with silent notes of wistfulness.

The handful of stars dotting across the grey-navy blue sky will sometimes become an infinite sprinkle.

Rain.
Sun.
Raindrops & damp hair.
Sunshine dancing across our collarbones.

Closed eyelids, but unclosed heart.

Tired soul but it keeps say a quiet 'No' to
sleep.

Lovely days flit in between the not-so-good ones.

And it is twelve at night again.
My white heart painted the loveliest red has been
trying & trying
to say
'Hello' or was it.. goodbye
to
yours

*again.
Hello there! How is your day going, lovely?
x
Amanda Dec 2013
It is shocking, bewildering when someone special kisses your skin with their fingertips.

It is like everything that they ever wished to say is said, whispered right into your soul.

Dissolving, permeating slowly through the layers and walls you have built.

And when your fingertips dances across it, in that instant, the world's momentum ceases.
Time metaphorically tinkles backwards and there you are.

With him.

Your head blissfully at the crook of his neck. One hand laced with his.

And that's when you know.

Your heart is his.

And his heart is yours.
14
Amanda Jan 2015
14
On New Year's day, I kept writing the date wrong. My pen inked the year before. It bled through the next page.

The feeling was so very similar to how I used to wake, my lips immediately finding the your name.

Only to be replied by cold, flat sheets.
I bought 11 pens today. Oh dear.
I hope you, you and you are having a brilliant day.
If you're feeling a little blue, do something you geniunely love. Call up your friend. Write, sing, read, watch a movie! eek
xo
*hugs*
Amanda Apr 2014
I blush far too easy. Oh, I fall easy too.
2. Aha! Being short is quite okay.
3. Oh My, I hide behind my hair & hands if my cheeks go crimson.
4. A little thing I always do: I kiss my teddy-bear Good-bye before       I leave my bed.
5. Most people, no everyone has something to teach me.
6. A fact: I am blessed. I should never ever let that slip away between my fingertips.
7.Never give up.
8.Decisions. Decisions. Decisions. You have to make one.
9.A quote I adore: "The Soul is dyed by the colour of its thoughts."
10. Hair is often unconsciously twirled in my fingertips.
11.Eeeek!
12. I Look funny when I daydream.
13. Let the people you truly adore etch their names on the edges of your heart. There, they cannot never truly be gone.
14.Oh my goodness, isn't he a sweet-heart?
15. ! You've got to be brave. Don't let your lips be bitten back by those hesitating, silenced words.
16. Stories like ours don't quite end. Not yet, anyway.
Hihihi!! I hope that didn't sound too narcissistic.
I got the idea for this poem from a fellow poet on this site. I've been searching for that particular poem but I cannot seem to find it. If you are the one who wrote something similar or a poem about turning 16, please tell me so I can credit you lovely person! x

I guess, you guys know a little more about me, hey?
Hope you have a wonderful Wednesday where-ever you are!
:')
1AM
Amanda Jun 2014
1AM
The distilled silence are like dusty mirror reflections of
my breaths
&
slow heart beats
in this terribly empty room.
It is 1:18am, 1st July here in Melbourne.
Where has all the time gone? :')
Have a lovely, lovely day & night to you, you and of course, you.
xo
Amanda Dec 2015
I would like to be that girl;
the protagonist that doesn't cry.
Where she is able to push aside fears and tears, like fog on a mirror.
Her hands aren't afraid to be ***** and ******.

But bitterness and anger drool stickily on mine.

Right now, I am what I am.
This is all you get.
And it's not up to myself
for you
to
want me.
Good night starlights!
ex & ohs.
Amanda Jul 2014
Sunshine; this hazy thing that marks shadows of the hour hand, lingers on my cold, slightly lonely fingertips.

I made two cups of coffee, yet again
Only one met my lips.

The other one went
*cold & colder.
Hello there lovely soul! How are you doing today?
x
I attended a debutante ball yesterday, man, it was brilliant. My feet still hurt from the heels, my hair is in day-old curls, my eyes are tired.
Any prom/formal/ball memories, you, you and you wish to share?  
Good morning/ Good Afternoon/ Sweet dreams.
2AM
Amanda Jul 2014
2AM
Suddenly your mind; a piece of the intangible universe melds into
its first home.

Perhaps, that explains the
sleepy eyelids.
Hey darling readers!
I hope you had a brilliant day with a smile flickering on those lips.
x
Amanda Jan 2018
I learnt what 17 meant: recklessness, glassy eyes and a firestorm in someone else's chest.

19: a smile carelessly left in the crook of my neck, an hour shy of a sunrise and a firestorm in my chest.
Amanda Feb 2014
According to Chemistry,

one mole = 6.02 x 10^23.

Equivalent to
A computer counting 10 billions times every second would take 2 million years to reach that number.

And that is what we are made of,
the things that we kiss, hug and live in.

We are infinite

universes ourselves.

Please, please don't let anything
dull
those
stars.

The ones that glitters your eyes,
the subtle ones that effervescently lights your very soul.
And above beyond,
the little winks playing
peek-a-boo
in
your
smile.
Sunday Nights leads to this.
Hey-hi! :')
And for those lovelies who have read my poems,
this one is for y'all.
P.S Don't worry, if this is the very first time that you have read my nonsensical writings. It's for you, you and you too!
x
Amanda Aug 2014
I like 7pm.

Lipstick is faded; it's color has bled through not only the infinite number of words she says,
it is seeped right into all on these lines and creases of her lips.

Hair is undone; wispy little messes out of braids.

Eyes are tired; sleep edging on eyelashes.

And yet he still wanted her *more.
Hey hey hey gorgeous soul!
Sigh. It's been difficult to find time for writing amidst one of my busiest EVER terms.
Take care you, you and you!
xo

Sweets, if you are reading this, thank you for everything. *love heart love heart*
7w
Amanda Aug 2015
7w
He had a heartbeat like a hummingbird.
Not entirely sure what I mean by that.
Maybe, you, you & you could give me an interpretation?
Sigh. It has been a long day.
xo
Amanda Jan 8
your eyes look like sunset today
don't close them just yet
Amanda Feb 2015
Hold on a little longer.

Your veins need a pinch of time + a few more starry nights to become a little more impervious.

Oh, you are still fragile, but the kind of soft and all raw edges.

A bruise of a reminder that you have waltzed on broken fractures & bones of wishes hollowed out too soon.

And you are still here,

blood burnt out into alchemy.

You are quite like magic.

*We all are.
Just in case you didn't know.
x
;
Amanda Oct 2015
;
Love will come back to you in nameless ways.
Pale imitations of it finds itself in buttery cookies
& all kinds of sweetness.

In the catch of someone's laugh.
Your fingertips try to recognise their rough & sharp edges.
It is not theirs .

It is the hum of summer hot against your skin.
Though, the fire burns brighter inside of you.

It comes back, even if the night speaks of ravens and inkiness.
Ah. It feels good to sit down and write again.
I hope you, you and you have been well.
It's the biggest exams of my academic life in a few weeks.
Ohmygoodness.
Wish me a pinch of luck?
x
Amanda Mar 2014
The man that never quite stop loving her.

In a flurry of hair and crimson cheeks,

"Why?"

He pauses and smiles a smile that he very well knows
it will never flicker the same on her lips.

"That's not the point, I simply love you with
no expectations;
one where
your heart takes the same fall as mine."

*Except that my outstretched fingertips
will catch
yours.
Hi Hi Hi!
Hope y'all enjoy this nonsensical writing!
x
P.S Tell me one thing you love about that special Miss Her / Mister Him.
Please?
Don't be shy!
*winks*
P.P.S *whisper* Mister Him for me, he gets scared when I start running simply because I am too clumsy.
NOW, Shh.
I feel rather blushy now. :")
Amanda Jan 2014
We are so lucky to be alive.
The chances of you even being here is astronomically finite.
Think.
Ponder.
Startle yourself.

Now, start breathing in and out
as wisps of bliss
slowly
forms mellow quietude.

The perfect medium
to be
who ever you want.
Happy New Year!
x
P.S Let's make our unspoken wishes transcend into reality.
Go.
Amanda Feb 2014
Never have I felt so acutely
a l o n e.
How can such an   empty, empty   feeling swallow every little bit of me?

As I stare at the ceiling, darkness blurs and dips into the spaces of my vision.
I can barely make out the corners of where each wall connects to each other.

Inevitably, I wander how something so seemingly vast and big can come to an end; closure.

A limit.

I feel so very small.

How about me?

I feel very lost indeed.
It's sunny outside but I feel very blue and grey.
I guess it's just one of those days, hey?

Have a lovely, lovely week, wonderful readers and people alike!

x
Amanda Jan 2015
Waiting at the airport is bittersweet.
For you watch the planes sit lonely on the tarmac, and with the knowing feeling that in half an hour, 5 hours; in a handful of time, it will be gone.

All the space, matter, whispers, hushes will be swept up before your goodbye felt like it even existed in the very first place.
x
Amanda Dec 2017
The mouth is a killer, the sinner,
the kinder,
softer
part of you.
It's December now but my heart is still in July.
Amanda Feb 2014
I love you.

At least that is one true truth.

One that I can
always,

a l w a y s

come back
to.
Oh gosh.
I don't intentionally try to make The Fault In Our Stars reference.
I swear! :')

So, how was your sunday, lovely reader?
Hugs & Kisses,
Amanda
xo
( One more kiss & hug, just because you can never have enough kisses or hugs!)
Amanda Mar 2015
And so, they ran as far as 7 year old muscles would let.

Cutting across the softened hues of green and pinks on the end of a day.

Where skinned knees were kissed with the warm promise that the smarting pain would be gone.

Pinkys said shy hellos under bed-sheet tents,
their hair haloed by the sunshine
Eyes brighter, and cheeks crimson and freckled,

all ready to take on the
great big world.
I realised, love comes in different forms, through different mediums, through people, time, I could go on, really.
Night night!
xo
B
Amanda Jun 2015
B
Blame is a highly, highly strange thing.
Latching onto anything, it sews itself into the weak, the strong, the inbetweeners.

{Like fire-flies to light. Vice-versa. }

Simply because the world needs a bad guy.

In the same way, we need good hearts.
Hihi you, you & you!
I began a new journal for stories & such, and it feels beyond invigorating. Eeeek.
x
Amanda Dec 2014
Should there ever be a backward twirling of the clock gears, a paisley maze of metal and magic to occur,

every tear will trace back to its watery scars.
Even the ropes shackling hearts will fray,
shackles broken.
Bits and crumbs of dim memories become whole again.
Just as sweet.
And perhaps, the bad will seep back in.
The dead will open their eyes again.
Roughly stiched in wounds so long ago, where even the owner has forgotten to hem back up the stiches to the surface.
The white cotton thread would have never met the needle's eye.
A baby's nursery room may gather more dust than expected.
Hello there you lovely soul!
xo
Amanda Feb 2015
The scary, bold whisper of a truth is that pinning blame is careless.

You feel the slow *****; a smart of pain.

A sweet sting.

Just enough to draw blood to the surface, but not enough for a bandage.
Hey you, you & you!
How have you all been??
I have a blocked nose and a sore throat. :')
Swimming in 20 degree weather and no towel to dry off is not a good idea.
x
Amanda Dec 2013
As his lips gently brush and kiss my blissfully closed eyelids, it's as if  he is slowly smoothing out every single laugh line and rumpled wrinkle.

He sees more of me in that one careless, dainty gesture.

Bare and only human.
Amanda Jan 2016
honey*,
I am no princess,
I am a queen.
I got into the University of Melbourne today!!!
*blushes*
Ridiculously giddy with excitement.
x
Amanda Jul 2015
It is the oldest story we know.

They all lost their innocence.

Rib-cages became prisons,
the daisies plaited and knotted into hair wilted.
Hihi lovely
As a little kid, I loved bed time stories, it felt very safe and I felt rather invincible.
Do you like bed time stories?
x
Amanda Jun 2014
The very last words of that one story,

the terribly short quote her fingertips traced on her wrists at 4 am then again at 11am.

The very last words to him.

Reminds her of

cold tea,

unfinished stories with no end

&
undone smiles.

Far too scared to write last words,
eventually she became one.

The irony is stinging.
Hello there lovely!
Phew, finished my first ever three-hour English exam and boy, did it get wild. ;)
My right hand was aching, smudged with blank pen ink.
Second last exam tomorrow!!
Sweet dreams to you, you and you.
x
Amanda Mar 2014
Truthfully,
I neither have a lucid nor clear recollection of how we first met.

How my little heart took its fall blindly,
with wisps of hope edging around it,
don't you dare ask.
I don't know myself.

It's that one moment hazy and crinkled at the edges,
but its the very one that we adore when
it plays peek-a-boo
on
rainy days.

It is the kaleidoscope of little memories ribboned together that slowly unravel,
and
begin
to
dance on your closed lids.

All I know is there is a

beginning

& and &
no
end.

Not just yet,
not
in
*forever.
Hi Hi Hi!
Guys, I am starting to learn how to do pottery and ceramics!
I am so **** excited to do this tomorrow with my two chickadees.
P.S I hope you, you and you have a brilliant and lovely day. Awh yeah.
x
Big
Amanda Feb 2014
Big
We had big dreams,
you and me.

You & I,
I mean.

Thing is, kid,
all of that lived and died
in
the backward
of
*time.
Hi hi hi there. x

Good morning, Good Afternoon or Good Night where-ever you are!

Much Love,
A'manda
Amanda Mar 2014
He shyly looks at her.

Everything seemed to quieten to this lovely silence;
a stillness which is pierced by
his
own
steady and sure heartbeat.

By the way her nose twitches slightly and her red lips flutters a little,
she is just about to sneeze.

Ha. Adorable lady.

Bless you?

Bless those eyes that inexplicably managed to see through the
gossamer veils of good and the bad and
above all,
me.

Bless those crimson -No, it is actually a meld of strawberry and raspberry stains. But I won't tell her that just yet.- cheeks.

Bless that lovely soul that you have, the kind that lights up your eyes and peek-a-boos in your smile.

Sweet-heart, you could never be scary anyway.

& And &
bless that smile which can flicker one on my lips.

She sneezes, blissfully oblivious to all these little words that flit around her.

"Bless you, sweets."
He whispers, like
he
always,
always
does.
Hi there lovely reader!
Hope you enjoy this little piece.
x
Amanda Jan 2014
Is this how happiness feel like?

Oh, the way my lips gently curve upwards is like..

Sleepy eyes kissed airily by sunshine,
                                                                ­               buttering toast on a bitter cold winter's day.
                                                   When it is so very cold,                                                            ­                
every breath feels like toothpaste and mint.    
It is the worries being unknotted.                                                       ­ 

                                                               ­                  Little inexplicable sparks that can light even the darkest        souls.
There we go! Smile sweetheart.

x
Amanda Sep 2014
I'll like to think that we are all glass figures, people, whatever.
We are fragile, delicate, malleable when heated, at times we can be coolly transparent.
But the undeniable truth that we always come back to is that we can all
break.
Under pressure- the sort that splinters pieces of wide-eyed innocence and hope, the kind of disappointment so pale, you can see it in their skin- it results into little fissures of weaknesses spidering out into **** cross-roads. Which I think we will inevitably walk on.
And suddenly, with those gaping cracks,
we are no longer quite so impervious to
the bad or the good.
Frankly, as sickeningly cliche this may sound, it is universally accepted that it is the very inside that will start to bleed into those crossroads.
So, yeah, it is the inside that counts.
And I wish I could have learnt that without cutting my hands
red and raw
on these broken shards of glass.
Hey you, isn't your soul looking gorgeous today?
How have y'all been doing? :')
The above is the beginning of my short narrative for my English assessment. It is by far one of my more gritty and raw stories.
Definitely more challenging and emotionally draining sort of writing.
Typed to: Poison & Wine- The Civil Wars
P.S My heart crumbles into little piece when I hear the beginning.
Take care, okay?
x
Amanda Jul 2014
There's always an
inexplicable something
about all things old.

Maybe, these yellowing, crinkled, slightly forgotten
-slipped off the inky azure of the mind's corners-
have felt the way a pair of lips
moves & crinkles
as
they make
wide-eyed wishes and closed mouth good-byes.
Hey lovely soul!
x
Amanda Nov 2014
The sunshine dabbles on my skin.

Pale with wistfulness. It somehow reminds me of bitten back lips and swallowed words. The sharp edges of each letter paper cut there and here.

I stay a little longer, motionless, in this hazy light.

I'll come back alive.
I will be living once more.
Just give me a pinch of time.
That will do.
Hey hey hey you brilliant soul! :')
How are you?
xo
P.S Sweets, if you're reading this,
I love love you
Amanda Dec 2013
Her voice wisps notes that my home and heart has never been privy to.

If the stars were mine I'd give them all to you
I'd pluck them down right from the sky and leave it only blue.
I'd put those stars right in a jar and give them all to
you.


A soft chuckle escapes from my upturned lips.

"No, don't bottle them up, sweetheart.
Let the whole world see and breath in their beauty.
Anything contained will be kissed goodbye by dust-motes."

It will be lost and tragically unloved.

My words hinge onto the distilled silence.
The italicised bit of this little nonsensical writing is from the very lovely song:
If The Stars Were Mine by Melody Gardot.
However, the remainder is purely mine!
Hope you have a wonderful day! x
Amanda Feb 2015
You make me feel pretty,

delicate as fairies, a bit cheekier than usual

in an old faded grey -stretched by the tumbles of the washing machine and dulled by the sunshine- t-shirt and old boxer shorts.
There is a beauty in being at home, laughing on the carpet, not giving a **** about how you look.
Hihihihi lovelys!
xo
Next page