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And I'm caught in a moment
as the rain hits the leaves
Mother nature can surprise you.
Anastasia Oct 2021
Sleepy demon, close your eyes
Hell's too warm for you to rest
Soon someday you'll realize
That I've always tried my best
In my arms
Quiet and cool
The lights are dim
The clouds are wool
Stars on the ceiling
Sparkling above us
Your horns are pitch
Obsidian and onyx
Tired from fighting
Lashes charred from flames
Looking up from dark circles
Sleepy one, have no shame
My lips on your forehead
As I watch your aura lift
I love you, little demon
I will let you drift
Summer Apr 2021

Blue base and pink hues, black lining, framing the face saw once in dreams, a face with a name that began with the letter M. The other painting – a hazy black, red lips, no eyes – is a man’s face. Flying across shadowed, spiralling stairs, I encountered exits blocked by chairs – all these impressionist paintings hanging along the corridor, where a painter was explaining to his students the woman he met in his dream… they all called to me as a dream factory, dream logic – where everything was bound and unburdened, and we were told to identify faces in these coffin paintings. All day we tried matching, mouth stuttering half-formed names, lost faces, amputated body parts, strangers’ fragmented memory. Then the old lady I was working with let out a wail. She bolted, I followed, and there we saw creatures known as man and woman – to the woman on the right, she greeted with the M-lettered name, and to the man on the left she pointed at the eyeless painting, said, stranger, this is you– and they wept together.
Summer Apr 2021

I was told that faces persist, could wear away pebble, wind, and sand. Rivers, long and winding, and the rain, always so strange, mingle with rippling ashes of our ancestors, their fingers dipping through charcoal powder, tracing animals over stone’s face, carving bodies out of empty space, faded faces on walls. We are not a dream, they were saying. Not flashes of an aged old dream. Sand-like memory, look for us.
A dream i had this morning
Ilhana Apr 2021
Misery is weak
Until decades it survives
Becomes aesthetic!
A few more centuries
Becomes masterpiece !!!
And you say "what a wonderful world"
Clearer the thought,
deeper the soul,
more original I am,
the lonelier I become.
Ahmad Attr Feb 2021
It’s the hollow sounds
Of raindrops falling on the car’s rooftop
In a world that feels static and stopped
That sends chills slithering down my spine
Like the crinkles of tiny bones and stones
In which I find comfort
Nobody could hurt us
We are sitting in a shelter
Safe from cold wet weather
It’s the tiny droplets, slowly sliding down
And regrouping and blurring the lights
Of a distant city twinkling in a rainy night
And my warm breathes create a canvas of fog
For my fingers to draw the tiny catalogue of ideas in my head
The sounds of rain is a like lullaby without any words said
And often when I can’t sleep
I close my eyes and think about me sitting in the backseat
Of my uncle’s car
Going to the hospital or coming from it, that doesn’t matter
It used to happened a lot
And there were many rainy nights, many rainy drives
Where I would see the drenched world brush by
The summer rains were blessing to my ears, skin, and eyes
And I would roll down my windows and stick my head outside
To feel it all at one time
It’s the tears of the sky
Kissing my face
Reminding me the world can be a heavenly place
It’s the music
Created by the windshield wipers,
The muddled sounds of the world, and beat of my heart
And the raindrops falling on the roof of the car
Nina Feb 2021
Roses are painted black,
Violets aren't always blue,
I thought you loved me back,
and you don't know what you put me through...

I was talking about you, like all day...
to everyone and every time...
I painted you on the wall of my room
with roses and velvet night.

I was talking about you, like the whole night...
at stars and the full moon in Leo...
I hugged your portrait on my room's wall
that I painted
and I thought you were talking about me too.

my heart was full of red space
and my stomach was full of butterflies...
I have baked your favorite cake,
because I thought you wanted me in that velvet night.

They said that happiness is a butterfly,
but we met in December,
there was a cold and blue morning sky
and I remember that aesthetic forever.

Roses are painted black,
Violets aren't always blue,
I thought you loved me back,
and you don't know what you put me through...

People born in March are sensitive
but you were cold and mean,
My sun is in Aquarius
and I am the only one who can feel.

I am the only one who can feel butterflies,
and I felt more when I saw you,
I am a sensitive flower full of sun kisses,
lovely bees and the blue sky too.

All I wanted was a black painted rose,
violets and lavenders with your kind smile,
but you hate flowers and colors of love,
and you never smile, you laugh sarcastically...

Roses aren't painted black,
Violets aren't always blue,
I wish to take the time back
for what? you don't have a clue.

You left me heartbroken
and my scars full of the tears
our love is already over
and my feelings are my only fear.

I hope I don't feel the same to anyone,
and I hope butterflies won't leave me there.
but if I do I hope I won't be the only one,
who sees love colors and paints roses black.
I hate that I felt love. I hate that I turn foolish and sad person.
Retro Jan 2021
god that name...
runs through my head all day until I fall asleep and I get to see you in my dreams...
floating through the cosmos...
I don’t know...
just the way we’re alone...
nothing between us....
stardust on your fingertips...
intertwining your fingers...
so close to me...
feels so real...
the way your heartbeat sounds in the dead of space...
the way your warm breath hits my neck...
in the chilling cold of the cosmos...
just... the way you’re there...
feels so real...
we’re so close...
I wake up and...
there it is again... that name...
I helped chose Atlas as your middle name because an Atlas is a type of map...
and I knew if I ever got lost...
you’d help me find my way....
pull me out of the deep space and back into the galaxy...
vibrant and bright...
you made my black and white perspective bring color in my life...
so amazing... that it makes me... contemplate...
thank you.
brynna Dec 2020
sun through the window,
the beat of your heart
through your white wedding dress,
i trace reflections art
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