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 Jun 2015 raðljóst
OVC
Redhead
 Jun 2015 raðljóst
OVC

The girl that I like is young, quite petite, I might add
Bluish-greenish turquoise eyes, like the forest and the sea combined
Her voice, a sweet, gentle overtone; the ocean, calm waves that reach ashore
The breeze, blows the forest trees; a rustle, soothing to the human ears
Her skin that luminesces; the white sands of the Riviera Maya
Here and there, little sprinkles of darker sand on her pretty face
Her natural dark, red hair, as fiery as the midday sun,
And her lips a vibrant red, that melt you in the summer days,
So warm and cozy as the winter rays.


Not sure about that last line, but here you go. Hope you like it.
Cheers.
Algunas cosas se dicen mejor
en Español.

Some things are better said
in Spanish.
 Jun 2015 raðljóst
September
You and I
were an amalgamate of
two forms of hatred,
sixty shouted swear words,
seven hundred kilometers of happiness, and
one thousand reasons to wake up,
smiling.
 Jun 2015 raðljóst
aphrodite
try to remember how you felt before you met him.
Do you remember? Comment.
**
 Jun 2015 raðljóst
Rapunzoll
I wonder if like a storm you are
unaware of the damage you inflict.
Flooding these walls with screams,
shattering the fragility of our home.

I assume you are too caught up
within your own struggles to break free.
The wrath of your thoughts and those
calculating fingers rake your flesh.

Etching violent artistry's to your soulless
voids. Little needles which pin-***** at
the dark corners of your mind; awakening
the dormant cruelty sheltered within.

It is only through the cusp of night that
apologies emerge as you feign delicacy.
Your liquid skies fade to hellish hues as
you tell me not to lust after hurricanes.
© copyright
 Jun 2015 raðljóst
Rapunzoll
Your lagoon orbs,
flicker with jaded emeralds,
swallowing me beneath
their sapphire waves.

What once promised me
much has led me to these
abandoned ruins, and
long forgotten shores.

A drifted siren, trapped
between the fleeting seasons
haunting these oceans
in search for Atlantis
within the bones of ships.

Wasted by the fragrance
of your sailed freedom
and plump, luscious
lips rouged by red wine.

I waited for you to
anchor me to this life, not
to sink, to drag down
with me into the depths
of these undercurrents.
© copyright
you find it strange I have to write down all the words that come to my head when I think of you
poetry, an artform
I find it stranger that you're a work of art yourself and you don't even have to try
thats way more beautiful than my words could ever be
it's strange that every time I look at you

I regret the things I couldn't do

I can feel my heart shattering all over again

through all the numbness I still feel the pain



but you're such a beautiful work of art

that I can't look away at all

I wish I could win your heart

reality hits me like a cannon ball

it tortures me  that you're not mine

and that I couldn't fix the errors I made

I want everything to be fine

but it's not changing no matter how much i've prayed
so much can be stolen when we live for ourselves
I can't live this way much It makes life a hell

I'll give all to others and hope for the best
trusting giving to others will end the aching in my chest

some call me modest and selfless and look on with pride
others call me selfish and foolish and see hate in my eyes

whatever they do I hope my actions keep true
because one day I hope I can laugh it off with you

i'll cut off bit by bit of the dreams I have left
cause the things I want for myself seem to be taken by theft

my words fall on deaf ears as if they're pretended
cause so many others left their dreams unattended
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