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 Jun 23 Moon Cherry
Nylee
Why am I me?
I had a chance
to turn into many
But why did I get
stuck with me
this version,
there are so many bugs
I am always lagging
behind
Often I freeze midway
I am seldom muted
the voice quality
is so mediocre
the display so
unsatisfactory
why this me
?
I’m still stuck in time,
Petals glued in the air,
Flowers unfazed in this orchard of mine,
Butterflies are still as I stare,
I wish I could hit rewind,
What I crave to feel frozen there,
Somewhere now unkind,
My orchard now a stranger.
A place where I grew,
A place where I left,
A place where I long to go back to,
A place where I can't go back to.
Black Dahlia tears,
Beckoned beneath the crimson,
Bloodbath gleamed garden.
Dear white dahlia,
Flushed with extremity,
Desire to wound,
With a wounded heart,
Restlessly witnessing,
That guilty presence,
Of now Black Dahlia,
Plaguing me.

I detest this infestation,
It manifests hues of blues,
As I stood there tearing,
The garden I cared for.
Fresh citrus drip drips,
Upon her sweet cherry cheeks,
Soaked socks by the rocks.
Oh no dear Cherry,
Why is an endearing creature like you,
Alone here by the river?

Your face is flushed!
And your socks, they're soaking wet!
It's dangerous here Cherry,
Best if you not stand in the waters.

Oh Cherry, tell me what happened child.

Cherry:
The river can accompany me,
Washes out my blues,
But I don't want to bring my ***** shoes,
That would be rude of me.

Can I stay here a little longer?
My vision of you,
Belied if tallied with stars in the night,
Like the moon lit blue.

Don’t tell me it’s true,
When I dare say you’re my sunlight,
If asked my vision of you.

Because there are so few,
Paintings that describe you right,
Your beauty like the moon lit blue.

Won’t you tell me a clue?
How do I eternalize this precious kite?
To keep my vision of you.

If only you knew,
You leave me breathless, gone my flight,
Tamed like the moon lit blue.

I pledge my true-blue
Forever be my pride, my delight, my side,
For my vision of you,
Is authentic like the moon lit blue.
My first tale,
Of villanelle,
So love I tell;
Though not too well,
Of a villanelle.

(Bulan Biru: Blue Moon)
Traces of fragrance,
In a flowerless garden,
Once thrived with lilies.
My dear Lily,
Tear-catcher then,
Tear-jerker now;

I often wonder,
Could my Lily have stayed longer?
Though we're fated to bid a soundless goodbye;

I'm desperate in seeking,
Remnants of your scent,
In hope it would catch my blues,
Like how you used to.
Blinking never was a
scary thing for me,
But missing you made it be.
You're delicate, I fear.
Us too.
And I'm afraid I might be.
one that loves
one that believes
one that needs me
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