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I wish for the future to come
Just like anyone else
I take to the skies
As if I could fly

Oh world oh world
Hello world!
Please be gentle with me
I’m the precious little flower
So delicate, so frail
I need all the attention of the world
In order to not disassociate

I keep grasping to my innocence
As if my life depends on it
So what is it?
to live in complete ignorance
Or to realize we’ll never be perfect

But it’s all okay
Just be you
Because at the end of the day
Nobody really has this figured out
Remember her, old friend?
She was...hideous,
You think she was ugly,
oh no, far from it.

She was the fairest,
Her lavishing sable hair,
Her viridian eyes,
Her glamorous smile,

Her soft-hued skin,
Her delicately slender body,
Her dazzling manners,
Her ever so warm demeanor,

Her moves,
Fluid, graceful, focused,
Capturing the essence of the music,
with her mesmerizing artistry.

She was indeed perfect,
Unique, as no one could be as elegant,
Charming, for no one, was as lovely.
Beguile...as no one was as rotten.

What she was, my old friend,
Was an empty vessel,
the soul of which had perished,
mortified by its actions.

For all she ever wanted was approval,
so what she did was put on a mask,
losing herself in the process,
becoming a ghost of her formal self.
I am personally very proud with how this one turned out. People have told me that it reminds them of the main heroine of the movie the "Black Swan".
Leila Nov 2020
A light so soft and tender
Noir has been expelled
Gravel but somehow gentle
Even the stars aren’t this bright  
Lavishly delight
Eva Aug 2020
Dear Aurora,

Beautiful and sun-kissed

Warm and enchanting

Delicate and glossed

Mystically enticing

Dear Aurora

I could never thank you enough for splintering my sorrows away

Letting me rest for another day

You slowly happen

The entire world knows you,

Then

Many people start believing you are weak

And selfish

But dear Aurora,

I know you only too well

I have seen you rise up

And I have seen you fell

You are beauty full of sorrows

You are here today and gone tomorrow

You are healing

Aurora you are liberating

Dear Aurora

As you fly across the sky announcing a new sun

A gleam appears to me as a swift burn

It reminds me I am always apart from you

But you will always be a part of me

Dear Aurora

I love you.
Nidhi Jaiswal Aug 2020
LIFE
🕯🕯🕯
IS
🕯🕯🕯
LIKE
🕯🕯🕯
CANDLE
🕯🕯🕯
IT
🕯🕯🕯
GETS
🕯🕯🕯
SMALLER
🕯🕯🕯
­AND
🕯🕯🕯
MORE
🕯🕯🕯
DELICATE
🕯🕯🕯
DAY
🕯🕯🕯
BY
🕯🕯🕯
DAY

Life is like a candle.
It gets smaller and more delicate day by day
🕯🕯🕯
This morning it began to thunderstorm and rain pouring down hard.
I took a walk to the front window and watched it all go by until something beautiful caught my eye.
The Rose bushes in my front yard have bloomed with such beautiful bright colors of white, peach and different shades of a pinkish red fuchsia, in fact so pure that they shine even through the darkest of times.
The colors of these roses aren't just bright, but their shining...except i also came to see that the wind was picking up and a Rose so beautiful can yet be extremely delicate.
The wind started to destroy it's rose petals as they danced with the rain and flew off onto the grass.
What a grey, rainy day, but these Roses just make a bliss of wonders.
Sharp thorns can hurt, but these Roses smell so nice and make life bright.
Delicate Roses, they are,
Sharp on the outside but yet so gentle and weak as they fall apart and never standing to let that get in the way of their dismay from bright colors as they stay.
Roses are one of those special flowers, that seem to never die.
Appreciate the rose, for one Rose will appreciate your tender eyes of love and pride.
As i even tried to take pictures, they weren't as bright as they seem with the human eye.
Because the human eye is a real camera that captures the true unforgettable moments and how we see this world instead of the eye of a robotic apocalypse.
Delicate Roses are filled with love and purity.
Let us all be a Rose.
True experience and thoughts out my window.
Natalia Apr 2020
You've drawn first blood,
It rolls down my skin.
With a soft thud,
My world begins to spin.

It turns me over and over,
As the moon would the tide,
Like that first kiss from a lover,
The first glimpse of the bride.

Next is the scent,
A tinge of copper.
On its slow descent,
I begin to stir.

A soft taste of metal
Envelopes the lips,
The wound has now settled.
Quivering, my mind slips.

To that first touch,
However delicate
T'was clearly too much
And I am left desolate.

A rose's thorns.
Tomorrow I'll prepare
To have the blood adorn'd,
From that first tear.
This was written with the idea of how similar love is to when you try and pluck a rose. You may mishandle it when you first try, the rose will cut you and leave you bleeding. But you can't let that stop you from trying to get another rose. Wear that blood proudly as you try again, learn from the mistakes you made the first time. Take everything you can from it, the scent, the look of the flower, the taste.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Bubble
by Michael R. Burch

                Love—
          fragile,    elusive—
     ­ if held         too closely
    cannot              withstand
  the inter                    ruption
of its                              bright,
  unmalleable           ­   tension
    and breaks, disintegrates,
       at the              touch of
           an undiscerning
                   hand.

Originally published by Neovictorian/Cochlea. I believe this is my only "shape" or "shaped" poem. Keywords/Tags: Love, fragile, delicate, bubble, tension, held, breaks, pops, disintegrates, explodes, implodes, hand, touch, harsh, ungentle
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