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Alice Lovey Jul 2018
Red moon, red moon,
Don't come so soon.
It's not an eager tomb,
It's just the darkest room.
At the window, looking in, looking in
There's a heart bleat, unsweet,
Bruised and beat.
d i s c r e e t
d e f e a t
At the window, looking in, looking in
Red dew on blades of glass within.
Silhouettes of mind and time
Beckon a Blood Moon.
Don't come so soon;
This isn't the only room.
Red moon, meaning Blood Moon, which is thought to be "the end," or in modern context, to make a final decision on something. Not written for me.
Alice Lovey Jun 2018
Meet me where the stars bloom like flowers,
Where the sunflower caresses us with its golden grace,
Only preceded by the moonflower that bathed us in serene the night before.
Meet me where the garden gleams, flourished from the lifeblood of our togetherness.
I'll arrange an accretion of roses around your eyes that pull me in.
The galaxy is our bouquet.
Lie with me, turned from the weeds we willed away.
The stars bloom like flowers in my heart;
I pick one and it illuminates the infinite dark,
Just as your laughter.
blah blah, another flower metaphor, yadda yadda another space analogy.
I tried to keep it simple and sweet, apart from my usual longer narrative-styled poems.
Alice Lovey Jun 2018
My once black bodice became a summer sundress.
As we spilled the blood of each other, the putrid milk of our patience,
As we made our mess, you'd undress me.
I couldn't express how the stress grew like an abscess--
But it didn't matter.
Vicious words spitefully scattered,
Then our voices flowered with charming chatter.
Even if my brain was battered,
You had me, entranced and captured.
To me, you mattered.
You had me--forever,
When you went on about whatever,
Losing track of time,
Losing track of thought whatsoever.
Giddy grins when you acted clever,
Even when you weren't.
Uneasy eyes averted, you'd bite your nails.
Trembling hands, bouncing knees.
I found comfort in your anxiety;
It meant it wasn't only me.
Long hours, lone nights, lousy days;
Solemn soliloquies, paranoid plays
In my mind when we wouldn't speak.
Something I did, something you said.
If only your mind had pages intended to be read
Like the stories, what stories lead us to tread life as if we're dead.
Then again... Maybe I'm just getting ahead,
Like I always do,
Predictably missing the pleasure of you.
My sweet icing's soured by your intent to ****, ooh
I know you do.
As if this is for the best...
Had you been impressed by my unrest to invest?
I've confessed...
I must go on.
This time you don't shy over my shoulder.
Gone like a ghost;
I wonder if anyone would ever believe you were real.

Alliteration play and toying around with transitioning rhymes. Critique very much appreciated.
Alice Lovey Jun 2018
I crave for things unknown;
Tell me your story, I see your soul.
Once upon your tragedy or possibly your dreams,
Find me gazing intently at your given everything.
The intimacy of conversation;
Exchange these words with me.
Sit beside my person as we explore the galaxy.
Perhaps then I could learn from you,
Perhaps then teach you being new.
Would you mind getting lost with me
Where our hearts connected too?

I've lived forever in eternity,
I wish to know all to be known,
Time begets sincerity,
Sate my curiosity so.
Emotional connectedness and bonding over sharing souls with another human, though perhaps also a bit of loneliness.
Alice Lovey Jun 2018
Write a poem for me.
I do not want your gifts.
I only want extension of
Your scheming willful wit.
Write a poem for me.
Be it sweet or ****.
I'd like to hear expression of
Your beating, fumbling heart.
What could be inside you?
Would you let me see?
Sanguine sanctuary,
Maybe ****** mystery?
How then pure love,
Familiar as red roses?
Else I could suppose is
The bleakness of despair?

Write a poem for me.
Please, save your banality;
I'm charmed by whimsicality,
And sorely unimpressed with
Predictable normality.
I've never been interested in commonality, especially when it comes to things like romance. I feel pouring yourself into something you've created reveals more than what you could share in small talk.
Alice Lovey Jun 2018
The love he displays is like a gentle spring rain,
Drizzling old despondent dandelion dreams.
Never within my reach;
So madly mesmerized, I gazed
As he recited.
So badly bruised, I wished
Until my wishes became possessiveness.
I was envious.

My train of thought comes crashing without any breaks.
Too late to be tepid now it's tarnished.
I never learned how to let go;
Still fighting fire, I cried
At night.
Still finding faith, I smiled
And rested in the comfort of his presence.
I was hopeless.

Ever unrequited, I still dreamed of him.
I wished for every ounce of what once was with you;
I'd come to resent you for the state you've left him in.
You, who did nothing to me, and who was innocent.
You, who lives on in sincere stories.
I wonder if we would have been friends.
As I watch from afar, I see how truly beautiful you are
Or... Would have been.
You never deserved this either.
Alice Lovey Jun 2018
I spoke with you this morning.
You rolled off my skin and told me things were different.
I listened to you as you moved my hair.
You are gone now--
My solaces I surrendered to, or
Is this a sign that all things will continue to change?
I miss you, my gloomy comforter.
You were not gloomy to me.
Take away the sun that suffocates me so
Sadistically. Hydrating resuscitation.
It's silly that I still check for you outside my window.
I hear the ghosts of your afterthought.
When will you be back again?
I feel as if we could travel anywhere and be anything;
You veiled me in a misty blanket of intuition.
No one can speak our language but us.
My disappointment to see the storm had moved away, right after I wrote a poem about it. I sort of like writing vaguely.
Anyway, life is all about constant change and taking the good and the lessons from every chapter. But I am forever optimistic.
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