Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lizzie Bevis Oct 10
Do you dare to search deep within me,
reveal my darkest secrets
and uncover the truth?

I am a master of disguise,
displays of emotion are denied
enough to outwit any sleuth.

So I must ask...
Are you sure you want to see
what is behind this mask?

©️Lizzie Bevis
Anais Vionet Aug 5
Vintage Chanel lives rent free in my mind
the colors are deep, subtle and magical.
Over time, the originally soft textures,
become luscious, like a lover's caressing touch.

In college, you dress down,
you want to blend in, not stand out
gods forbid you flag entitlement
and draw envy's barbed compliments.

The simple styles bear the twin burdens
of camouflage and practicality.

In Paris, fashion can be capricious,
but elegance is a silent conversation,
with its own intricate vocabulary in drape,
line, fabric and in painstaking choice.

In places where fashion matters - Paris, Manhattan, the Hamptons,
it can signal position, the way uniforms signal authority everywhere.

A splash of fashion can not only have a fabulous effect
on how its wearer feels, it can tell important stories.

I’m told that, in back rooms, where fortunes are awarded or lost,
fashion can announce arrival, rank, and intent.
It can whisper new wealth, in upstart display
or a threadbare, silent duel with mounting debt
.
.
Songs for this:
The Way It Is by Bruce Hornsby & The Range
Read Between the Lines by The Bingtones
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 08.05: Capricious: something impulsive or unpredictable.
maria Dec 2021
I'll cover me
even though
you liked me cover free,
I'll camouflage my feelings
like you masked your fakeness
Written somewhere on June, 2020
© ,Maria
maria Nov 2021
Made my heart a rock,
trying to brake
the camouflage
you wore,
trying to heal
your wings,
Fly was the dream

And then
you did.
And I waited for you,
you know,
I
was the one not flying
anymore.
And you left;
when I needed you,
You left
Written on November 17, 2021
© ,Maria
Chris Thomas Jul 2021
It often feels as though I was never meant
To be the man that I have stubbornly become;

It often seems more likely that at one time,
During my checkered past,
I laid in wait in the foliage,
Sprung a makeshift trap,
Subdued one of my pursuers,

And assumed their identity

It would be one of the few logical explanations
For why I consistently sabotage my own path;

Retreating to my sanctuary,
Setting up tripwires around every corner,
Poisoning my sole water source,
Setting up sensors around my heart,
Camouflaging the exposed crimson,

And stalling for time that I no longer own
Why do I still daydream about the ending
When the beginning is far from written?
Cox Aug 2020
Soft iris.
Lilacs in your eyes,
You use this to your disguise.
Nigdaw Jul 2020
butterfly
in the killing jar
made object
made art
preserved perverse pleasure
collected
displayed as though
some great master
to prove the beauty of nature
pushed one more step
into extinction
pretty colours are there
for camouflage
from idiots/predators
to keep the bounty of nature
outdoors
for everyone
to enjoy
Next page