Leila Shearer Nov 2016

Gracious she stands
fragile and soft
to the touch

Upon inspection
the tattered edges,
the bruised core,
the ruined state
is clear

A stem traps her
chaining her down
fingers outstretched
upon a thorn I bleed

Might she shatter
might she wilt
scars may never fade.

I'm torn.


Inspired by the song 'Can I Be Him' by James Arthur.
sarah 1h

Our love lived between the lines.

There was no rush,
no lingering sense of time or place.

Only timeless tenderness;
a love so wholesome
that the rest of our lives
didn’t seem to exist
without one another.

I heard echoed tones of yearning
underneath each touch of your fingers
to the keys of our piano.
Every note was a memory,
a sweet pang of haunted recollection.

And when the music crescendoed,
the world s t o p p e d
and started again
in the span of one heartbeat.

Your eyes, your e y e s,
so full of every terrible kind of beauty,
swallowed the sound of the notes
as they reached up and became
another memory,
another facet of proof
that we were meant to be forever.

When the time came,
we sang.

and the universe stopped
to listen.

if sadness is

a charming smile which leaves you breathless
a zephyr that tugs at your brown locks in soft beauty
a temporal love which is threaded in your broken heart
like you both were the only souls in the light years of the

if that is sadness

then my understanding for the hollowness in people
soaked in suffocating loneliness drowning me in crowds
hurts as much as i feel numbly misunderstood
yet i tear my threads apart in an attempt to say
my love will fill the oceans infinitely
even if it is tinted crimson from being
rubbed away like a smudge on a window
fading off

marina 12h

ill put a plant in a row
of daisy seeds,
in the space below each eye
so they'll remind of your beauty,
when they bloom each time you cry

Have you ever met a person
who at first glance
you’re not attracted to
but then you talk
and with every word
every smile
every laugh
they become more beautiful
until you can’t believe
there was a moment
you didn’t think they were

Words, Phrases, Quotes
Come together as one as I sit in front of the plasma screen
Wondering what this is for
It'll end right?

Look up and then look down
How much pain and anguish
Have we caused this world?


Every war
Every building
Every breath

The path of destruction no matter how much we try to stop
Severe strain on this planet
Dark skies and burnt land

The whisper of the wind
Begging to stop
Begging us to stop

In the search for beauty and eternity
What have we done
What have we become?

01:14 thoughts while writing an essay
Avaleen 1d

Beauty is never born out of beautiful places
For if so, how could its worth be appreciated
The rarity of a beauty pure has few faces

Like a thorn stricken rose full of majestic graces
And a phoenix birthed from the ash of the vacated
Beauty is never born out of beautiful places

The glamour of the vast dark heavenly spaces
And the distant voices of the annihilated
The rarity of a beauty pure has few faces

Do not think once that glamour doesn’t have cruel traces
But like a paper petal plucked, its dead corpse bated
Beauty is never born out of beautiful places

So take caution when beauty comes and embraces
Don’t hold on too tight for it is much overstated
The rarity of beauty pure has few faces

So take beauty back to its beginning bases
When out of suffering rose beauty fabricated
Beauty is never born out of beautiful places
The rarity of beauty pure has few faces

Iz 1d

There are beautiful things that live in my house
they tend to occupy the fractured crevices inside of my walls, adumbrating a kind of obscure phenomenon: shadowy luminescence
they tend to sink into the spaces between the ceiling and the roof, immersed in chocolately darkness and dust, eating termites for supper
they tend to isolate themselves in the acidic liquid of my kitchen sink, bathing in rotting rye and leftover cherry wine, finding peace in polarization, a prize in the priceless, a perfection in the pitfall
There are beautiful things that live in my mind
they tend to whisper to me because they know I can discriminate between their desperately voluminous silk and the vortex of thickening threads that cages my cognition in demonic demands
There are lots and lots of beautiful things
but beautiful things don’t ask for attention
they tend to slink in the shadows.

Samreen 1d

Under the blue sky, sunshine bright
On the carpet of green grass rolled out,
Running around was the little girl in white
In her tiny pink shoes, humming about.

Her big, round eyes filled with innocence
And those soft pink lips spread in a smile.
Her sparkly laughter depicts divine presence
Dancing on her tip-toes gracefully agile.

Those soft brown curls around her round face
A few strands reach down that sweet dimple
Her little white gown frilled with lace
In this huge world, her life so simple.

Bent over a lovely flower, she sighed
Admiring the nature's beauty around her,
'Mama, oh! Mama...', excitedly she cried..
Jumping, as the evening doves surround her.

I stood at a distance, taken by her charms,
'Mama..', she said again and ran into my arms.

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