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Anastasia Sep 22
red roses
and tulips
petals
in your hair
lips
on mine
a day
like this
something
in the air
fingers
on my waist
sweet
cherry taste
this love
of mine
bound
by crimson twine
blood drips
from tiny ******
sharp thorns
with ruby tips
with all of my being, i love him
Peter B Aug 28
Ripe cherry
waiting to be picked
by the gardener,
before crows
will peck her
to pieces.
Starry Aug 25
As me and my friend
Drive slowly in
An orchard I am overwhelmed by
The snow like blossoms and the
Pleasant smile
How I wish I was a butterfly
Or a bee.
the cherry blossom accord/equation

”perfumers use aromachemicals to recreate a cherry blossom accord...(an accord is a scent made up of individual aromachemicals, that when combined, create a harmonious blend where none of the individual ingredients are able to be detected on their own).”

the odor of our lustful eyes,

the sweat, a unique commingling,
a sheen of salted oils body bathing,

crushed green petals of peaches,
crumbled together with the softy fuzz shavings,
the sediment of aromatic fruit juices drippings

our blending bottled in our brains,
none other would recognize but we,
to too two smell each other through and over
floors, concourses, cities, disparate distances

our ingredients secreted (secret),
our flavors cell secreted (secreting)
the world’s silly tittering aroma inserted,
our sparking fingertips touching
add a bush burning burnt odiferous

we seat across from each other in an airport
plastic restaraunt and everyone asks out loudly,
what is that smell, feed me that, taste me that,
as we are irradiating the atmosphere,
as we renegotiate our cherry blossom accord,
fresh signatures, updated, harmony of harmonies, notarized

she smiles, I joke, winking,
we must continue
to meet like this,
the fireworks of we,
of us,
to-gather to-gether,
a getting of giving,
she answers:

take me home and
bathe me in love,
give our bodies shelter
from the world outside,
beside a new spice
have I uncovered,
this will require some
discussion+exploration,
the quantity to be added,
the when, and the how!


what is this new ingredient?
asking puzzled and aroused,
she laughs
(a spice already included),
why it’s called
only love poetry






8/23/19 4:55pm
Anastasia Aug 14
Cherry on top
Cherry on bottom
My heart is sinking
Straight to the bottom
The crickets say
They are ashamed of me
And the mosquitos take their aim at me
Cherries are crushed
No longer sweet
Rotten and bitter
False retreat
Writing at night
Gives me strange thoughts
Cherry on bottom
Cherry on top
Outside
At night
Is messing
With my mind
How were these melodic notes made?
A thousand symphonies
from the sky upon him laid?

Mr. Tree and petite Ms Tree met with a distant ancestry,

Although he sprouted from a Cherry pit,
She has been growing from an apple seed,
Together they play,
hiding and seeking with the wind,

Silly them when thinking about the humanity
while they both have plans to grow to be.

Petite Tree sits under Mr Cherry tree
They laugh and laugh, won't leave.

Mr. giving Tree
shares his cherries for free.

Petite Tree eased her hesitation smiles.

Please, please Mr. Tree with cherries,
Petite Tree would like to grow with you distance memories.
Following up with a peer poet’s post in regarding Mr. Tree.
elizabeth Jun 26
your hand is on my thigh
nearing the tiny mountain shaped bright red italian ice stain on the edge of my white dress

it’s a risky move to get something so messy for such a clumsy person you said earlier
but you got it for me anyway
knowing that it would cool me down and lessen the likelihood of my fainting from the heat

my eyes are drooping
the forest colored eyeliner smudging
mascara flecks on my cheeks
and rose eyeshadow on my fingers from that morning

it smells like honeydew and sand in the car
but all i can focus on is the slight scent of your lemon detergent coming from your worn t-shirt

you’re tired too
and i know you can’t wait to get back
take off your sneakers
and watch stand up comedy on netflix under that one soft blanket on the couch with me

but you still take the time to put your hand on my thigh in the parking lot outside the house
letting me know that even with my cherry colored tongue and my stained dress it’s us we are here together in this moment

just us
Ed C Jun 11
My sister fell, at the neighborhood pool,
on the cement, instead of into opal water.
She said the **** on her knee
looked just like a maraschino cherry.
Red like a maraschino cherry,
or a clown's nose,
or like the fire
in the center of our planet.
The ****** **** dripped cherry juice
down her leg
in between her sun burnt toes,
evaporating off of the cement.
She reminded me of lava,
constantly bubbling
always moving
always destroying
without hesitation.
The reaper of flowers
and ice cream cones.
Red cheeks, red like Geryon.  
Purposefully confused
and always wondering.
I hope I can answer any questions
she has, when the need
to know evolves to thirst,
and the fears she has now
as a little lava girl
become fears that we all feel
as destroyers in our own lives,
wrecking everything,
reaping the flowers
that are growing
in the ashes of our youth.
jussssss thinkinnnnn
I bought a miniskirt.
I'll paint my nails and lips in very dark,dark red.
Like cherry on the trees.
And I'll walk on the streets of the Italy.
Behinde I'll hear: ,,Bella Donna."
Oh, an elixir for my ears.
I'll drink a wine of love.
I'll watch the beauty in nature.
Oh, I'll be definitely fine.
Fiction, some fiction, some not fiction.
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