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pa3que Mar 2019
the clouds are at war,
with weapons of fear.
billowing with hate,
daunting everyone near.

the clouds were at war,
making schemes in the sky.
what's left of them now,
cries drops that stay dry.
pa3que Mar 2019
can you hear my non-living ocean,
can you smell it’s scent of red roses.

the birds singing above,
can you feel the sun’s warmth.

a drowning drop of sun,
drowning in silky silence of waves,
making its way to hidden beneath.

can you hear my non-living ocean,
my drop of love in your hand.
pa3que Mar 2019
save me bubble baths,
pink bubbles in my chest.

steps soon may cross our paths,
paper guns and inquest.

pools of honey in your eyes,
my sweet, unheard of cries.

slightly broken ribs and pains,
back butterflies ******* in chains.

please, love my echoed kiss,
kiss my nearly drowned reflection.

wrap me in an endless bliss,
then let me out of your ‘protection’.

amount of happiness i’ve stolen,
your words i’ve twisted in my likes.

my soul completely swollen,
lost track of myself, moueix.

might know soon, soon, myself i’ll find
in someone new’s affection,

but that another, never will be more,
than a reminder of your deflection.

moueix, a word i used just to describe, me,
my love for you/him/he.
pa3que Feb 2019
kiss my pouring sun,
its drops dripping from my eyes.

the silver glitter on my cheeks,
soft touches from last night.

the fingerprints are fading,
with every tear of sun i drop.

my lashes softly melting,
tired eyes burning out the sun.

remembering the voices,
tickling my glitter, diamond lips.

my slowly burning cells of skin,
forgetting the silk in veins.

pathetic kisses, now of dust,
disappear into sun’s fallen echoes.
pa3que Feb 2019
the intimate whispers
of a lady in red,

the slippery curls
i could never forget,

daytime spent thinking
about her scead,

at night gently sipping
her stories i’ve read,

she’s written with words,
yet, stands in my mirror,

each day i step forward,
each day i am nearer,

with silk veil
her reflection dances,

like the lightest feathers
through the air she prances,

diamond glass in hand,
she’s in my red wine,

i’m sipping on her words,
getting lost with mine,

‘i like you’
i admit,

‘the red and taste of wine’

the candles i’ve lit,

‘i like you’
i say
‘for you is the only i.’
pa3que Feb 2019
it’s only eight,
and everything has faded.

it’s only eight,
and you’re not in my arms.

it’s only eight,
eight minutes past my bedtime.

it’s eight,
i’m awake,
stars twinkle,
a bright sprinkle,

it’s only eight,
oh, dreams?
i’ll dream alone.
pa3que Feb 2019
“alice, drink the potion”
they said,
“we all think
you’re a little mad.”

oh, but truly,
can’t you see?
in most cases
madness is the key.

why be fragile?
don’t collapse,
rather take some
of my stash.

hidden goods,
with you i’ll share,
just to show,
i really care.

underground,
to Wonderland,
darlin’ now, come,
take my hand.

we’ll tap-dance
from outta here,
“stop resisting!”,
they’re too near.

you’re almost there,
but then you crack,
(“was it too much?”)
they lock you up
like a maniac.
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