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Ariana Sweeney Sep 2014
Use of heat
engulfs your ends
Into a splintered crisp.
Every inch you sear
Irons out the curls in your mane.

Flick the lighter,
Spark up some magic
And bring that
Shy, crying ember
To your dry lips.
The harder you inhale,
The faster you burn.

Smoke sneaks around
Your body and
Encapsulates you in
A hazy plume.
The scorch marks on your arm
Emphasizes your need
For warmth.

You seem to think you’re
A phoenix by how often
You play with flames,
But how high will you rise?

Will the ashes you’ve left
behind provide you with
a rebirth
or purge you into
the hearth forever?

How long will your eyes
Stay ignited,
Because every time you
Play with snowflakes,
You become a dimly lit,
Sputtering flicker.
Elements are a reoccurring theme in my life, according to my poetry as of late.
  Sep 2014 Ariana Sweeney
Andrew Durst
I have
   big dreams

        and a  
            realistic mind.

Gets the best of me some times.
Ariana Sweeney Sep 2014
Flick the Bic
and you'll get a flame.
Ignited as if magic,
a spark, explosion,
hidden within
a hard case
cold until held by
callous hands.

You become grounded.
The earth begins to claim you
as it's own.
Vines, roots
scale your body
and dig themselves deeper,
becoming one with
the captor.

It started with
a drip.
A singular orb
of pure and innocent
and soon you're submerged within
that person more
than you thought possible.

The air you had
inhaled, exhaled
has become more
painful than the searing fire,
hitting harder than the
most crusted stone,
pushes poisonous liquid
into your lungs
with an endless swell

and leaves you breathless.
coffee shop poetry always does me well.
Ariana Sweeney Aug 2014
Blank paper
quickly morphs
Into something
Our mind
Prints and
Everything white
And adds some
Needed color.
We are the
And concoctors
Of a world
That's unknown
To anyone but
Our crossed faded

Beauty is found in destruction
Ariana Sweeney Jul 2014
Your thoughts start coming out
In low key lighting,
Sepia toned shots,
And distorted by a fog machine
Hidden in the corner.
You analyze it
Cuts, takes, dissolves,
and throw the fragments up
in the air.

Confetti in the form of "art"
Left for anyone's interpretation.
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