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 Jul 2018 Lottie
Alex
Love Poem
 Jul 2018 Lottie
Alex
Your eyes are like diamonds
Before they were compacted
Your lips are as soft as a peach
Pit cut in half
Your skin is as white and smooth as paper
After it has been crumpled and singed
Your body is as beautiful as
That of a manatee
Don’t worry, maybe you look like a mermaid

from a distance
 Jan 2017 Lottie
izzi3
regret
 Jan 2017 Lottie
izzi3
you're like a germ,
twisting my insides
into outsides, ruining
this facade of happiness

you're like a thorn,
in my side, painful and
ever present, constant
prickles and discomfort
 Jan 2017 Lottie
Scarlet Niamh
I do not understand how they do it,
having so much thought that they invented
an entire universe of elements,
components and small fixtures of greater
workings. Those incredible, beautiful
scientists, with their steam-crimped hair and curious
eyes; the wonderfully inventive mathematicians
who ponder over all knowledge in order
to realise something new - that is what
true beauty is. Chemistry, physics, biology
and maths are their own art forms, and what they
seek to create is more beautiful than my
words and paintbrush can ever dream.
~~ May all of the jagged equations in the world flow together to create an artwork more beautiful than perception itself. ~~
 Jul 2016 Lottie
Thomas Goodyear
enters password
logging in...
connected
Online friends:   *0

log out
Are you sure?   Yes
Rinse and repeat
 Jul 2016 Lottie
izzi3
camping
 Jul 2016 Lottie
izzi3
smoke catching the back of your throat
me with my tea and you with your coat
a sleepy town in a valley of clouds
up here, you can hear every sound
blissful happiness
contented-ness
 Jul 2016 Lottie
Lazhar Bouazzi
Speech
can become
touch,
depending on
intonation.

Writing
can become
dance,
depending on
the typewriter.

(c) LazharBouazzi
 Jun 2016 Lottie
Scarlet Niamh
I wrote my words into happiness from
my agony, in hopes of regaining
something. My agony turned to happiness,
and I was able to write the future.

I wrote my words into agonies from my
happiness, in hopes of it never happening
again. My happiness turned to agony
as I was able to write the future.

I wrote my words into alternate realities
where I had lost you, hoping to avoid
that pain. My fear turned into reality
for I was able to write the future.

So now, I am writing my words into a world
where I didn't lose you, venting my agony from
the happiness I turned into pain, in the hopes
that I can still write the future.
~~ All of my words went to waste, and now I am wasting away in my words. ~~
I don't care about
How much I make in a day
I care about how many times
I smile.
They say to finish what you started

Does the same go for the Suicidal?
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