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Allesha Eman Jan 27
Between us and this divided sea
Between us and this dying sun
Between us and this pale blue sky
Between us and the raging tide
Between us and running time
Between us and yesterday's dreams
Between us and tomorrow's sleep
Between us and the drying leaves
Between us and winter's grave
Between us and summer's taste
Between us and this beating heart
Between us and what's beneath
Are the remnants of our interlaced
Fingers
Still holding onto
Love
Hope
And some reason to
Breathe
YReem619 Jan 15
The hell beneath my skin burns more the longer I think of you. Your eyes especially, they glow through your hidden shy face. Your hair paired with your eyes and both paired with your smile redden me. You are the fire beneath my skin, and I often lose myself in your presence then think about how with a kiss I will pour love into your mouth, between your balmy lips and on your tongue I will leave words that really cannot be said out loud.
A M Ryder Dec 2021
Permafrost can go
As deep as
2 miles into
The earth
Way down there
Are these plants
Still alive and
Waiting to be
Discovered or
Thawed out

There's all this
Living stuff
Underneath us
Just waiting to bloom
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2021
Slip beneath the smile adorning face
Make-up concealing my imperfect skin
Under surface is an entire world
Depression I carefully cage within
Facade shows happiness
Layered to disguise the pain
Flesh outside beautifully sculpted
So wounds won't bleed
They remain
Hair brushed three dozen times
Light and wind take toll
There is fear fueling my sails
Yet I manage to control
Within heart inside my chest
War rages
There is no sign
Like a lost puppy wander the earth
Dusty road winding path of mine
Craving stars my eyes once reflected
Leading back to inner peace
In dark zero lights twinkle
Waiting for despair's release
And slide into a familiar costume
Pulling me out of dismay
Shatters and exposes truth
Soul with too many demons to slay
I should just give up
Jay M Aug 2021
Disguised beneath layers ever so seamless
Sewn together with intricate pattern and stitch
Embroidered smiles and elaborate costumes
Well rehearsed, prepped and ready for performance
Play the cards, pluck the strings, sing the songs
Play the parts, put on the grandest of shows

The funniest thing is that not a one knows
The amount of rights and wrongs
The close proximity, yet vast distance
How hands ache, shake, and twitch
Some think it to be needless
But never could that be further from the truth

Each and every door within each and every floor
Of the corridors of my mapless mind
The maze that it is
Holds puzzles, pieces, and clues
To the one hidden just beneath the surface
Dreaming of once again seeing the light
After after such plight

Every mask
Every side
Delicate fabrics and fragile seams
Sewn with trembling hands
Guide an inexplicable force
Perhaps a strange task
Hidden among wildest dreams
Set for an unknown course

With each that falls away
Another takes their place
A mysterious entity
Behind the face
Beneath the handiwork of the seamstress
Sewing and patching every hole
Desperate for every layer to stay
Remain no matter the cost
All for what purpose?
What is it that they hide,
That they hold so near and dear?
Such is unknown,
Or perhaps forgotten
Lost in the course of time

- Jay M
April 30th, 2021
Pulchra Persona, Latin for "Beautiful Mask". I keep leaving things lying around and forgetting to add them here.
Broken Pieces Apr 2021
My mind is a dark place I can't navigate,
Last night my bad dreams took over me.
Everyday gets harder and harder,
I'm trying but no one can see.

I just want to try and heal,
But I'm struggling to find a home.
I want to be okay,
I don't want to be alone.

I know we all have our broken pieces,
Mine are getting harder to hold after long.
The pieces cut be beneath the skin,
I was a fool to think I could be strong.
a memory dangling; a heart wrenching,
thy body has a lot to offer though,
far beneath the widespread sea- thou breaking,
I do shall return; my head bowing low
Poetic T Oct 2020
She was silent a mute, or so they thought.
            Butterflies would frequent her abode.
Dancing around a kaleidoscope of words fluttering
around her, she was like a lantern in the dark
           and they seemed to be drawn to her.

But where colour was imbued above,
below in unseen hollow spaces,
                    there were remnant glimmers.
Fragmentation's of what was but deathly hues
enveloped in the frigid cadaverous silence.

There was no flying from where they'd fell,
                like autumn's leaves falling off the
tree of life now they were obscurity.


No one knew that she was able to talk,
          but she was an empath,
   collecting the negativity of those
                                           around her.

Everyone thought she was in a mood.
                   She'd just look at them with sad eyes.
But she played it cool to everyone around her.

They're all happy but she whispered all
             the woes of every word expelled,
she tried to play it cool..

But when she told the butterflies what she knew they
            feel frigid, cold.
   They wanted her company, but they hid under her
               bed hiding the depression that fractured

there every movement.


She always tried to show positivity,
     but the shards cut her feet underneath her
                              bed.

But above was rainbows where beneath the
                  fragmentation of emotions screamed.
annh Aug 2020
Brims curving gently
Beneath the glimmering sun
Bonnets in full bloom.

Period drama bingefest seems to be rubbing off. :)

β€˜Nothing could have appealed more strongly to Miss Wantage's youthful taste, so as soon as she had changed the chip-straw hat for an Angouleme bonnet of white thread-net trimmed with lace, she sallied forth once more with Mr. Ringwood, tripping beside him with all the assurance of one who knew herself to be dressed in the pink of fashion.’
- Georgette Heyer, Friday’s Child
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