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Q May 2014
He is fall and she is summer
Calm and hot and colorful
Beautifully ethereal
Warm down to the atoms
In my bones.

He is fall and she is summer
And they've been new for centuries
Oxymoronic and lovely and
Warm down to the atoms
In my bones.

He is fall and she is summer
And people like them don't exist
Just a figment of realistic imaginings
Warm down to the atoms
In my bones

And there is no rhyme nor reason
And there is no word or articulation
And I cannot describe or indicate
And I cannot understand or make sense

But they are warm
Down to the atoms
In my bones.
No matter how many times I try to phrase them in poetry, no matter how I try to get the wording right...I can't. They're indescribable and it kills me even though I've never been more ecstatic to say that. I hope I can try and fail to get *someone* to understand how I see them for a long time.
Daylight 4U2C Apr 2014
I want to run.
Be free.
Be the little girl they see in me,
but plot-twist happen frequently,
opening your eyes to things you didn't see.
Burning the cheerful into your mind.
If only I didn't once leave that behind.
If I could return to those naive, fun days.
But fun was out and sad was in,
so I figured "well okay."
I dived right in,
singeing my skin,
turning me to the pit.
I was told,
"don't follow your instincts",
so I guess this is what I get.
Now I sit alone,
a pitiful lump of coal,
as a dog without bone,
or soccer ball with no goal.
I'm heading to "God knows where"
on a train called "Oopsy Days,"
and when I arrive,
they will all be amazed.
For I am the writer
who will give them a story,
for I am a lighter,
and my flame gives me glory.
Beautiful

Darling you are beautiful.
Not just ordinary-sort-of-beautiful either.
It's not for everyone to enjoy,
Tis not to everyone's taste,
But it is there:
Ineffable beauty.
And it begs to be loved.
I would do so gladly,
Tracing your face's outline
Like it is a piece of art work,
Or the full moon in the sky.
It is so specific. So very you:
Beauty like no other.
You can't see it sometimes
Because it hides behind your smile
And sits above your raised brows.
It likes to daydream at times
In the crooks of your curls,
And takes a nap on your nose.
As a master of disguise,
It plunges into your eyes,
And finds there warm sea water.
It is a little timid maybe,
But with a few kind thoughts
You could lure it out
Into your own
Observable universe.

— The End —