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crimson sky shivers
sounds of spring water heating
fuming snowy breath 🌷
from the haiku chain Of Changing Seasons
Payton Feb 24
There is a reason water is clear, and blood is crimson,                                                                                                             for it would be far too painful to try and see the truth in your veins.
This isn't really a poem but rather a lovely thought. It was written in 2016.
Estella Feb 17
Sitting in the dark
My thoughts racing
Like a mad man for the door
I hold a knife while thinking
How easy it would be to end it
All the pain
The things I hide from others
I could just slowly leave it all
While laying in a puddle
of my crimson sadness as it leaves my body
I know I can’t
It’s just a fantasy and a nightmare I dream of
I can always feel the hate in the world
Shaping my heart
I’ve tried to forget about it
But nothing seems to work
Sometimes all I want is to just hold someone
Someone who really cared…
But in the end all I’m left holding
Is the ghost of an idea
A mere fading wish.
mostly just needed to vent at this point, kinda had a break down lol
Raven Nov 2020
My toxic blood pouring and again pushing everyone away and not opening up and talking about it.
Like ****** always.
Can’t control it, it’s tied to me like ****** strings.
I’m ****** angry and depressed and frustrated and alone.
I feel misunderstood and judged and rejected.
I feel hated cuz I ****** hate myself.
I wanna **** my soul.
Get out of my ****** head and leave me the **** alone.
Can you feel my toxic blood?
It’s pouring, and affecting everyone around me.
I’m vicious.
I wanna leave and run away and avoid my ****** emotions like I always do.
I don’t ****** do emotions.
They too much, overwhelmed me till the pits of me are washed out completely with nothing but dry air famishing.
We all here for different reasons, I don’t wanna burden anyone.
Toxic poison pollution mess.
Don’t **** with me
Beckie Davies Oct 2020
the more you bleed
the deeper the passion
and soaked myself in our crimson romance
this is how much i love you
Nikitaa Sep 2020
My eyes become windows
Words the door
My lips devour his
So does his soul

My tears splashing
His an agony of pain
My scars cut his inside
Screams of my blood rain

My vision screams death
Aflame by his eyes
My blood drips away
His teeth nibble my skin alive

My nose built of sequins
Estranged against his snout
My cries build up ballet
His just vain around

**** my soul dead enough
Grave my wounds raw
Nail me to the desolate
Love yours ,  I don't crave!
Dinesh Padisetti Aug 2020
Sky & Sea merge
In a magical land
With different hues
Of crimson & blues

Photographers, Surfers
And spectators on a
Rocky beach watching
A million diamonds sparkle

An Orange Sun
Playing peekaboo
There are days I go to the ocean to watch the sunrise.
“His fingers wake, and flutter up the bed.
His eyes come open with a pull of will,
Helped by the yellow may-flowers by his head.
A blind-cord drawls across the window-sill . . .
How smooth the floor of the ward is! what a rug!
And who's that talking, somewhere out of sight?
Why are they laughing? What's inside that jug?
"Nurse! Doctor!" "Yes; all right, all right."

But sudden dusk bewilders all the air—
There seems no time to want a drink of water.
Nurse looks so far away. And everywhere
Music and roses burnt through crimson slaughter.
Cold; cold; he's cold; and yet so hot:
And there's no light to see the voices by—
“No time to dream, and ask—he knows not what.”
jasmine wild Jun 2020
i run you through my fingers,
waiting for my response.
your surface smooth as water,
your blade sharp as ice.
your blue tint reflecting my sadness,
your cracks revealing my anger.
still waiting for my answer,
i place you down admiring your beauty.
little shard of glass,
nothing else can cut so smoothly.
i think about it,
can i be that strong
as to not rip you through my skin,
and watch the validation seep out?
watch your red army attack my clothes,
staining the white the deepest crimson?
i think i'm done deciding,
what will i do- only time will tell.
you once were so innocent
though now stained with red.
i took your life from you
like you itch to take mine from me.

- credit to Sylvia Plath for the red army reference
-- see 'Cut'
--- a true genius
N Jun 2020
My favorite color used to be yellow,
it was my sun,
it kept me warm and happy

But as I grew older crimson
became my favorite color

A slow death,
crimson drips from my wrists
as I turn cold and pale
I miss being yellow.
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