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It was a tenacity
She was emptying her bowl of pasta
As he looks unsatisfied

At what exactly?

The dim lights of the restaurant
Or his formal attire of
perfect fitted suit and trousers

Or could it be
The discontented taste of wine
or perhaps his unfinished steak

But what baffles her was
He found everything menial

A display in the trophy section
Just a casual glance in the art gallery

She was just something
He just found aesthetic
When they only wanted the thought of having you, but never actually loving you.
Amara May 13
We're sitting in our haven
cozy environment to
heal every crack
with you,
no lack

I caress you differently
from other times
so you pull me in
but guilt fills your eyes
"It's okay" all I say
half cry
you embrace me
doubts, shatter away.
Tiana Jun 2022
Candle lights and a day long sigh
Gray evening tea resting by
the journal
which's last page I thought I'd pen today;

But I can't seem to narrate,
today's unfolding
about how the world I knew
Put off it’s last enchanting shred;

But this thought suddenly gone faraway
As if blown by the witches wind,
Yes, witches wind I would say
Though this reality was a thunderous cloud, it brought promise of rain;

And I didn't know my heart did witchcraft, so intense,
It hypnotised me to immerse myself in the indulgence
of cherishing an unlived memory again;
Still working on this
𝙶𝙽𝙶 May 2022
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.
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