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r f laurel Mar 20
in dreams i forget,
the line is fine and steady
and never wobbles.
Delia Grace Jan 8
There is always a moment when you pull away from a hug. That is the moment when a kiss would occur, should the situation call for it. It is the moment when only your heads and torsos have pulled away. Your feet stay in place, tucked between each other in a pattern on the ground, and your hands stay where they are, but draped loosely instead of holding on tight. For a breath of time within this moment, you are in middle school. Your date to the dance sways across from you, your hands around her waist and hers around your neck. Neither of you know enough to hold on to each other, this is just how you dance. But you know to hold on now, in this hug. In this moment. There’s nothing you want more than to hold on. To lean in and make something count just a little bit more. The hesitation lasts longer than any breath you’ve held under the surface of a chilly lake in late May. It takes more air than you could win back in a lifetime. Hesitation rules for a synchronized blink of your locked eyes before it pushes them away from each other and your hands lose the grip they finally learned, giving up on what they longed for. Maybe your cheeks are pink. Maybe they’re used to this. And maybe you’re crazy, but you didn’t think you could miss the smell of someone’s spit.
12/18/19
I drew the word "pride"
But it's the Pan flag.
Underneath it it's the same
But it's a trans flag
I couldn't draw a demiromantic and/or a genderflux flag with chalk.
Now we wait for my parents to see
If they don't see it within two weeks I'll bake a cake that says
"pan, trans, demiromantic and also genderflux"
Maybe I'll need two cakes tbh.
Omar Jan 2019
I write to you

pages of my lost years

baffled

between the absent present

and the distant past

I write to you

my thoughts burn out

in my mind

and the smoke comes out

from my ears and mouth

the cloud weeps over my head

and the flower blooms inside my heart

I write to you

my words turn into chaos

into fictional stories

turns into a trifling joke

without meaning

without taste

I write to you

like an adult

would do

but your love taught me

not to grow up

to remain a child

and just let it go

I write your name

this time on the wall

with a yellow chalk

and sit there

watching the drops of rain

dissolving your four letters name.
Aa Harvey May 2018
Chalk


She is a rainbow of colours inside a black and white TV.
She is dancing in the streets of Paris with gaiety.
She is eloquence unnecessary, for she is perfect for me.
She is grace beyond call;
She is sympathy to misery.


She is what you would never expect her to be.
She is here; she is with me.
She is the One who would make Cleopatra suffer from envy.
She is beauty, she is tragedy, she is my remedy.
She is all things to me.


She is lost in a wish that may never be.
She is hoped for more than you could ever imagine.
She is an artist, she is relevant and she is necessary.
She is beauty personified…

Paint a chalk outline of me.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Poetic T Mar 2018
I found chalk on the holding
of sky shimmers, then I composed  
on the blank spaces that where
echoes of what was drawn in
memories of yesterdays dreams.

Barren slate needed the imagination,
woven between fingers streaming
across an arborealis of creativity.
I am the drawer of dreams that
were colourless and now fill a void.

I outlined the slumbering's  of what were
just blank smudges. Now revitalized,
I'm within this moment, a collage of
colourful wishes that I created before I
look smiling, tomorrows imaginings drawn again.
Dreams are drawn before there seen
Poetic T Oct 2017
When I wept before you
watching my emotions fall like
                               crayon colours

Painting the floor with immature
          emotions...
did you read the colours I spelt..


Or did you just see irregular patterns
                spelling out my pleas...
that were like chalk drawings
                                       to your understandings
Paul Jones Jan 2016
The storm has passed. Its     surrender was swift
as chalk wiped away     from a wet, slate board.
02/01/16
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