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willow sophie Jun 2019
you smell like a witch's storage,
a pantry of spice;
rosemary, basil,
turmeric, corriander.
the smell,
it's spice.
willow sophie Jun 2019
I once sat, wealthy, proud,
on a throne of velvet and gold.
I wore satin, not rags.
My castle, once made of the finest stone
has since become debris
of a kingdom
that has fallen.
willow sophie Jun 2019
After a night that let
snow like chilled cotton
fall from the cloudy, yet sunlit sky,
the enthralling,
calming sounds of
twittering birds
and crunching snow,
that is my winter wonderland.
willow sophie Jun 2019
She'll keep me from drowning,
she'll save me from my demise,
she is my guardian, my saviour
in my eyes.
willow sophie Jun 2019
A cuss word,
to swear upon a name;
so sharp,
so bad,
so rebellious;
so thrilling
as it leaves
a ****** taste
in my mouth.
willow sophie Jun 2019
I cannot shut my eyes,
I refuse another coat
of obscurity
unless I have a nightlight
to wash away
the darkness,
the unknown.
willow sophie Jun 2019
A lithe breeze
sweeps the hair
from my face
so that I may
appreciate
the good in the world.
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