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 Aug 10 Mira
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 Aug 10 Mira
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8.9.25 (11:13 am / 11:13)
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so where have you gone?
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
 Aug 9 Mira
سلمى
In any other world,
during any other time of day -
things could be different.
And yet,
maybe they‘d be just the same.

Every version of me
has to let you go.
 Aug 9 Mira
سلمى
An orange flower
sways in the wind,
like the curl that falls across your forehead.
I am reminded of the shape
of your eyes,
the curve of your hips,
your smile in the sun.

One day,
I‘ll hold your hand
while you carry a little version of you
and my life will be absolute.
It’ll be all of you,
all of me,
cradled in your arms,
always.
 Aug 9 Mira
سلمى
If paper and pen
understand me to my core,
then it is my voice that betrays me evermore.
I know better, yet opening up
stays my biggest fear.
I am surface-leveled,
neither there, nor here.
And so comfortably, with no fuss,
I stay a projection,
nothing more than dust.
I am your imagination,
no depth,
no width.
I am only but a shell.
An empty figure,
stripped of will and vigor.
 Aug 9 Mira
سلمى
In honor of getting older,
wiser, sillier and bolder -
I have decided to take the shackles off.
They keep me safe, but curse me soft.
As my life has flashed before my eyes,
Suddenly, I have come to realize -
   I haven’t lived enough
      I haven’t loved enough
         I haven’t danced,
            nor laughed hard enough.
fear has consumed me since birth.
it cannot consume my thirties.
 Aug 9 Mira
Pho
You bloom
between galaxies,
a whisper in the dark
where stars go quiet.

I’ve touched you
in the petal’s curl,
in pollen floating
through forgotten light.

You were a flower
growing from meteor stone,
a garden hidden
in the hush of moons.

Each orbit,
I return.
Each bloom,
you wait.
 Aug 9 Mira
Elena Rosi
If you can still breathe,
It can still happen.
If you can still move,
Keep your pencil sharpened.

If you can see the dark
If you can feel the cold,
It means you still have a heart.
Just— your story’s untold.

Let your wings unfold.

Im not being rhetorical,
Or sarcastic, or philosophical,
Or any fancy, poetic way.
I’m just saying, there’s always a way.
There’s always something you haven’t tried, something you haven’t done, keep on fighting. You deserve all the good things in this world ✨✨
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