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Goddess Rue Nov 2023
Blinking never was a
scary thing for me,
But missing you made it be.
You're delicate, I fear.
Us too.
And I'm afraid I might be.
many will know the beauty
of a butterfly's wing
and the delicate intricacy
of their decoration
those swathes of colour
meandering boldly in flight
a proclamation of
             their presence
             their providence
whose startling eyespots
can mimic the stolid gaze
of the stern and the alluring
observing in judgement
or perhaps in wonder
blinking only as they flutter
flattered disbelieving
yet there are reminders
in that Rorschach patterning
that those with ill intent
should observe
threats and
             warnings overlooked
by those in admiration
of such beauty
where few will heed
that gossamer fragility
broken by any
not considerate enough
in their handling
Asiah Mangham Aug 2019
Someday I’ll savage my past and I won’t think someone loving me is a delicacy.
Someday I’ll realize I’m all I got.
Like on those days my lonely screams louder than your presence.
Like on that day I screamed for God to show me what he saw in me.
Like on this day where I wish you could’ve met me earlier.
You’d love that girl.
You’d love who she was.
But for now I’m all there is and the best it could ever get.
I S A A C Apr 2023
lizard on warm rocks
an artist in their paint-speckled smock
the wind carrying fallen flowers
jade eyes meet brown
chastity belt unbound
hours upon hours
spent in between the sheets
delicate, delectable, free
it turns out
Mother Nature is
just as indecisive
as the rest of us
it seemed that
she had finished
with her winter
her day-long frosts
and biting winds
no longer the need
to cocoon oneself
in protective layers
when venturing out
for nothing more than
a bottle of milk
of down-stuffed coats
and twice-wrapped scarves
woollen hats
and thermal socks

it felt like
we had moved on
our spring had arrived
just in time
we could enjoy
the brisk early mornings
despite their chill
safe in the knowledge
that the gentle touch
of afternoon warmth
would shortly follow
the biggest setback
to be expected
was an intermittent
morning-to-evening downpour
dampening our anticipation
though only temporarily
of any plans we had made
until the puddles were dry
or had drained away

it may have been
a false start
but i'm loathe to say
we were tricked
or call it
an outright lie
those brightened days
were a welcome change
enjoyed by all
we were simply
carried away by
the primaveral allusions
lulling us enough
to forget the cold
and its significance
catching us unprepared
and exposed
like those delicate flowers
so recently bloomed
buried for now
beneath this weight
of snow
emily Sep 2022
I sometimes wonder why you were often too afraid to meet my eyes when we were in public.

Were my clothes too scruffy and did I look too unkempt to be associated with you?

Was it because I get too carried away when I talk and my emotions light up my face as if they cannot be contained.

Maybe because I tried to hold you tight and keep you safe.  

Even though I would love to sit down by your side and ask all the questions I have bottled up, I understand that I may never see you again.
i understand that I may not get any closure from them so the words that iwright are my goodbyes
LC Apr 2022
He greets me with a light kiss
reminiscent of a monarch butterfly
delicately landing after a long migration.

Iced lemonade in a glass
rests on the table in front of us,
witnessing the butterflies on our faces.

Water vapor relaxes when it sees us,
and the glass leaves a culaccino
for forever and a day.
Escapril Day 15! Prompt: something very gentle.
By the way, culaccino means "the mark left on a table by a moist glass."
I loved writing this poem, and I hope you all enjoy it as well :)
fika Jan 2022
She is lovely
like apricot juice-
sweet and ****

delicate
like ripe fruit
mark soltero Aug 2021
on your wrist resides your heart
it's love to hold whenever you're feeling alone
defensive you protect yourself
you're careful to expose such a delicate part
the solace and power you need are within you
this is clear
Chie Jul 2021
they're spotless, no room for human flaws here.
with faultless sense of selves and fragile attributes
are silver stars, whose homes are cold glittered spotlights
pressured, battered and bruised. look away dear, they're "fine"

they're fine, scared and composed until the next plot twist
rarely, ever so rarely - a perfect one slips
a miscalculation on a regular day
phenomena, wasn't supposed to be that way

perfectionism drove them faultlessly insane
when the known consistent road, shatters to eggshells
"ever so rarely", they reason to the mirrors
with guilt mixing in the blood of walking in fear

inner madness unleashing, black swans reappearing
the wrongs, how cruel that it doesn't let them go on
"this is only once in a blue moon", they echo
deep breathes, clutching close, the past's panic they can't let go
[ the breaking point of a black swan ]
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