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And at the end of the night
when all the creaks in the floorboard are tired
of creaking
and the sky looks like oil slick on asphalt,
all fuzzy black and still;
while midnight creeps in
through gaps in laughter
and yawns wide enough to swallow me whole;
after the lull of full bellies
and soft yellow good-nights fade into the blissful quiet,

I still close my eyes
and I think of you.
lovers’ anthem
 Jul 29 Bloomy ashes
Anailen
her
i need to drown in your scent
to be engulfed in your presence
to melt in your arms
and become one with you
For my girlfriend (i will probablynever show her). I was writting this and she texted me which I think isn't a coincidence. I wish I could do even the most mundane things with her. Wish people would just accept us as is.
 Jul 29 Bloomy ashes
alia
I‘m sorry my light painted you in colors you didn‘t know you had in yourself
I‘m sorry I opened you up for new scents you never knew you could smell
I‘m sorry life was easier before you held my hand
But why did you have to curse me?
it wasn’t me who sent you to hell
this is about a queer love story, I hope that makes it easier to understand :)
I have never heard a love song
That reminded me of you.
No words can describe your love,
Your eyes, your smile, your laugh.

They write these love songs,
Ones that never describe us well.
Always a man and a woman,
Usually nothing that we feel.

I want to write a love song,
One about only us.
To paint what we have,
A picture beyond human imagination.

I can't write a love song
That does you justice.
You are far too beautiful for words,
And too breath-taking for music.

A love song for you would be impossible,
You are too lovely for words.
Even in poems I am stuck,
Rambling about you, but never enough.
This is for my lovely boyfriend. I honestly struggle to write love poems or even compliment him since he is so breath-taking and wonderful. I can barely make coherent sentences that even begin to describe a fraction of how amazing he is.
"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘶𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺.
𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻.


𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.
𝗦𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.


𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦.
𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗿𝘀 𝘂𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲.


𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘵.
& 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻."


꧁꧂

mica light • poetry
Moon on barren skin,
Dusk in her finest corset—
Give the stars a show!

— The End —