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sheila Jun 8
She is that piece of art
hard to make
a meaning of-
too shallow, too foolish.

She is that piece of art
not aesthetically pleasing
even at closer look-
plain, dull, ugly.

She is that piece of art
nobody would dare
tell about anyone-
a total waste of time.

She is that piece of art
in a blink of an eye
forgotten-
gone with the wind.

She is that piece of art
easily praised by everyone
yet nobody would dare display,
instead, kept hidden at the attic
until it has turned into nothing
but complete dust-
not even in anyone’s memory.
Just an old piece
sheila Jun 2
summer bids goodbye-
the cat returns to its dream
on the sound of rain
  Dec 2019 sheila
inreticence
-
Someday,
I hope to feel it,

not just hear it,
but actually feel it,

when someone says
they love me.
sheila Dec 2019
She was a flower that lives only in winter. A flower that never saw the sun, a flower whose lived through the cold and dark. He, on the other hand, was the opposite- so warm and bright. One day, a strong wind caused their lives to intertwine and for the first time, she felt warmth. Every day, he would bring her the sun to make her forget the cold and dark, that she also forgot how she was a flower that lives only in winter. And so, she let him bring the sun to her- too close- that she died.
Sigh.
sheila Nov 2019
nights as cold as ice
enough to make the cat sneeze-
let him eat in peace!
sheila Sep 2019
what they say about love,
i'm starting to believe it's true—
how time slips fast through our lives,
but stops when i'm with you
back at it again with these corny love poems loool

(yes this is a repost bc something was wrong with my account a while ago)
sheila Sep 2019
love isn't deadly,
longing is.
5 word prose
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