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carolina Feb 2022
He says he’s the moon;
doesn’t have a light of his own.

i agree,
he is the moon.

but not for the reasons you presume:

he is the moon.
in the midst of a black sea;
a blazing of silver,
a flash of hope
in the vast darkness of this world.
this poem is about a person who doesn’t see how much they are worth, who I very pure and kind, and how much you wish they could see themselves the way you see them.
carolina Sep 2018
what about we close our eyes for a little bit;

and for once remember that we exist.
  Dec 2017 carolina
The Writer
soft brown hair falls down her back as she
swings; back and forth, back and forth.
the metal chain creaks beneath her weight
higher and higher she flies above me,
while i can only watch in amazement.
she laughs, tells me to stop staring and start
swinging too, but I can only see her;
her and the sun that shines bright behind her
illuminating her figure in the sky like a bird:
beautiful and luminescent, gliding on clouds
humming sweetly and soaring freely
and even as i lay here, eyes closed and heart
slow, i can still see her silhouette flying,
pink lips grinning wide, ochre eyes twinkling
and for a little while i let myself grin too

— The End —