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 Dec 2014 smallhands
JDK
Soulitude
 Dec 2014 smallhands
JDK
Her feline inspired lines are amongst the best,
but she's still a cat lady, nonetheless.

A hermit's heart may weigh lighter than the feather,
but he's spent all his days longing for something better.

The lonely are often alone by choice -
that's the way it seems to me, at least.
I'll take to writing and forgo my voice;
plan it out while I walk down lonesome streets.
 Dec 2014 smallhands
Amanda
We cannot only think of the pretty things in life,
then where would we find ourselves?
Hello there gorgeous soul!
Merry Christmas to you, you and you!
*love heart*
On a personal note, we all celebrate Christmas each to our own reasons, but at the end of the day, it's not quite about the presents.
It's the people and family by your side with possibly over-cooked turkey that makes it special.
x
 Dec 2014 smallhands
Hayleigh
You deserve more than ink scribbled on paper
Thoughts crammed in spaces
Black letters on a page
A heavy handed mass of words.
 Dec 2014 smallhands
Natalie
do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.
 Nov 2014 smallhands
Harsh
She's
 Nov 2014 smallhands
Harsh
She's
not just a girl.
No, one cannot simply
call her a girl.

She's
a storm,
a storm with skin, bound by
passion and dreams.

She's
a temptation,
her body a fire,
My senses a helpless moth.

She's
a maestro,
her laugh being
the sweetest symphony of all.

She's
a lioness,
the way she perseveres,
fights, and defends.

She's
a diamond,
brilliant and rare,
to be cherished and protected.

She's
a mile,
but only if
beauty was an inch.
Because it's her favorite.
 Nov 2014 smallhands
Emma
Streaks
 Nov 2014 smallhands
Emma
my tears are poetry
Hope is a memory
a long lost treasure,    
Faithless & mislead,
satisfied by temporary pleasures.

A mind that's filled by thoughts
that only seem to grow denser,
A heart that seeks love
yet is much too tender.
                  
                                                   - M. A. M.
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