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  May 2014 Gold
ElizabethS
I go on my computer, to try and do something new
I try opening up the pictures that I once took of you

A bold message displays across my screen
"Error" it reads, I know exactly what it means

I guess what they say is true, it never processed in my head
Its hard to reach old memories
When someone you love is dead
For anyone who feels guilt for never spending enough time with a loved one before they passed away.
Gold May 2014
I lapsed my opportunity on loving you, and now I am all alone.
Gold May 2014
Ich habe Fernweh nach dem Ort an dem du gerade bist, und Heimweh nach dem Platz in deinem Herzen.
Ich liebe den Himmel, und ich wünschte ich wäre das Firmament über dir, egal ob hinter Wolken versteckt oder mit den Gestirnen geschmückt, denn dann würde ich dich immer sehen und immer bei dir seien.
Jedoch könnte ich dich nie berühren, von da oben.
Vielleicht wäre es besser, der Boden zu seien. Du legst dich in mein warmes Gras und atmest meinen Duft ein, nach einem Regenschauer, und würdest dabei lächeln. Aber als der Boden, würdest du mich je bemerken? Und wenn ja, würdest du nicht nur auf mich herabsehen?
Das würde ich nicht überleben, wir sind alle aus Sternenstaub, und besonders in der Liebe gleich.
Aber wenn du mir diese drei Worte ins Ohr flüsterst oder sie mir ins Gesicht schreist, dann ist es eh egal. Denn dann steht alles auf dem Kopf, am Himmel ist das Wasser der Meere und ich schwimme durch Wolken. Ich gehe über Federn, und das Federkleid der Vögel besteht aus Gras.
So ist es, zumindest in meinem Kopf, jedes Mal nachdem du mein Herz mit den Schmetterlingen, die du in meinem Bauch ausgesetzt hast, erschütterst hast.
I have a desire to travel to the place where you are right now and homesickness to the place in your heart.
I love the sky, and I wish I were the firmament above you, whether hidden behind clouds or adorned with stars, because then I could always see you and be with you.
However, I could never touch you, from there above.
Maybe it would be better to be the ground. You lay down in my warm grass and breathe in my scent after rain and smile. But as the ground, would you ever recognize me? And if yes, wouldn't you just look down on me?
I wouldn't survive that, we're all made from stardust, and especially equal when in love.
But when you whisper those three words in my ear or scream them in my face, than it doesn't matter anyway. Because then, everything is upside down, the sky is made of the water of the seas and I swim through clouds. I walk over feathers and the feathering of the birds is made of grass.
This is how it is, at least in my head, everytime after you roused my heart with the butterflies you set out in my stomach.
  May 2014 Gold
Olga Valerevna
in walking through the corridors of earth & space & time
i felt myself a mendicant of everybody's mind
a step away from decency my feet began to ache
was humanly impossible for me find escape
to pave a path then take it back is not the way it works
i hollowed out a trail of holes - mortality, it lurks
so if you see a skeleton or something of the like
the shell i am will one day be a different kind of sight
[ikˈsplisit]
adj: stated clearly and in detail, leaving no room for confusion or doubt
Gold May 2014
Not all those who wander are lost, but I surely am.
Though I'm still not sure if I'm lost in this city or in the depths of your eyes.
And I'm drunk– whether it's on love or on alcohol, I'm not so sure anymore. But that's not what matters right now.
On my way of finding myself I'm actually trying to find you.
I could swim through the seven seas without exertion, but I'm drowning in your eyes just like that.
I write love letters, poems and sinfonias to you in my head, but I could never do in reality, for I don't even know your adress nor your adress.
You're the firmament above my head, when I look at the Gestirne above me I find myself gazing at your eyes.
And I wonder, I wonder, what could, should, would have been if…
And so I keep wandering, being lost, truly lost in melancholia and thoughts, wanting to get lost in your eyes; wanting to find myself in your heart, wanting to fix my broken soul with the golden love that, I hope, is awaiting me.
  May 2014 Gold
Yazi
Him
Amber waves crashing on porcelain skin, If I told you about his eyes you'd whimper, The curve of his lips over his teeth could ****** your breath like milk money, you'd think your lungs had been mugged in an alley if you caught him smiling at you like he does at me. His collarbones create craters in his chest where if water would get caught there, it would turn to wine. I know because I get drunk by just glancing. His body is a beautiful remaining of a natural disaster and my hands become earthquakes when I think about touching the back of his neck or the palm of his hand. One day I am going to kiss every inch of him that has been exposed to the world and every inch that has not.

— The End —