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anna francesca Apr 2018
The sweet summer air
Cuts through her memory
Stinging with awful color
Whispering with laughter at pleasant times

She drapes her eyes
And sees a world with wonder
Her mind climbs higher and higher
She dances among every thought that passes by

She listens to the silence
She laps up the mystery of her visions
And her heart begins to beat again
anna francesca Apr 2018
Life has its ups and downs
That is what makes it beautiful

Like the way a line of ink
swoops down and up
to form a letter
in a poem
that stirs a feeling out of a girl in a room somewhere where no one is looking

the elegance only appears
when the observer
values the peaks and crests equally

Life has its ups and downs
Good moments
and Bad moments
and this is one of them
and it is beautiful
anna francesca Apr 2018
My hands tingle with a sense I have not felt.
Eyelids flutter at a wink of eternity.
The hope is excruciating.
I am Bewitched by the perplexing enigma to ensue.
anna francesca May 2018
If I am a flower
Then you are my Sun

You warm me
Shower me with what I need

I bask and bathe in your heat
I rely on our connection

Your energy feeds me
I hunger for your joy

I will only bloom
If you shine before me

My luscious and glorious petals
Would never be seen
Without your light
anna francesca Apr 2018
I know you are there
I feel you in morning air
Floating on the breeze
anna francesca May 2018
Drunk on this feeling
This new sense of purpose

Your eyes and your laugh
They make me so nervous

I never thought we'd get here
I didn't want to try

But now all I see is wonder
When I look into your eye
anna francesca Jun 2018
To have been loved
To have been in pain
To have hurt you
But not in vain

This is life,
This is why,
You are here,
I can't die.

Make it stop,
Your stupid spell.
I'm stuck in your eyes,
I'm trapped in your hell.
Out
anna francesca Apr 2018
Out
Why choose this
Why do I go through the motions every **** day
Why can’t I help not wanting to rise
Or fall
It is in my nature to avoid those perils
And those joys

Take the first step, I say
Move one muscle in the right direction
But right and left and wrong are relative
And I
Have wasted another hour
Blindly switching between the mundane and the dead
anna francesca May 2018
this quiet misery is my paradise, whispers my sick head.
I want to believe its sweet, passionate lies
my head talks with a voice dripping with conviction
it swims and encircles me in its snares
my heart feeds in on itself and reprimands the body
for falling out of line
until
the final piece collapses
and the soul is set free
in whatever way it chooses
anna francesca May 2018
You're beautiful to me
Not because of something I see

Because you are broken.
All over.
Cracks in your plaster cast from tip to foot
So I can see the light within you
That shines so dimly in you

All you can see is that dry plaster
breaking and snapping before your very eyes
it haunts you
so you begin to tear
tear at the mold piece by piece
ripping the edges off of who you are
scratching the skin
you can't bear that weight any longer

You've tried to tape them together
Many times before
Nothing ever worked

No slapstick paste was strong enough
to put you back in place

So this is why I love you
Because you are shattered so
When I hold you in my arms
My skin begins to glow

Those broken pieces fit in my hand
like tiny grains of sand
Your warmth is not lost on me
You are worth more than you know
anna francesca Apr 2018
I shut my eyes and inhale
Trying to find the inner goddess
The warrior, the princess
The one who is inspiring and magical at her core

Instead, I see me
I find an empty chest that is twisted with anxiety
I find a tired body from ripping myself away
I find a mind begging to be silent
I find a heart longing to be free

I stop for a moment.

I no longer am plastering pieces together to form a goddess.
I can see that I am nothing near to a princess
Not an inspiration or a songbird in the breeze
My heart is tugged downward by weights

What am I feeling?
It buried so far beneath the surface I am not sure I will ever see
It is nonexistent, untraceable
A hollowness envelops me

and I let it go.
anna francesca Apr 2018
My soul is a drop on one of Monet's paintings at the Mueso d'Orsay
My soul is a fresh shower
My soul is that connection I develop with new people and characters
My soul is tied to everything in the universe and nothing at all.

— The End —