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La Mer Sep 2014
.
The sight of you
brings jazz
to my ears.
Music is the air
And listening ears my heart.
If I'm deaf, I'm dead.
Chalsey Wilder Jul 2014
I watch and listen to you sing just to feel the harmony and see the feelings on your face when you sing
I kind of just thought of this cx
One comfort that I find
Is that when there is no music in my ears,
                                               or in the air,
There is always music
                                     in my heart.
Quenya for 'the music of the heart/mind/soul.'
aurora Dec 2013
Eyes, searching for the one who will never come
Ears, yearning to hear your soft words
Mouth, wanting to taste your lips
Hands, need to be held again

Mind, can't forget that night
Heart, is starting to crack
Body, aches with the memory
Soul, knows what it wants

You drive me insane.
Danny Hefer Jun 2014
Were we deaf to the rules
How would we enjoy
The sweet sound they make
We they break
Or, you know, the echo, 'cause, you know, my words are so deep and stuff.
Kalia Eden May 2014
she was wearing soft red lips
and blue eyes as deep as the ocean
and a shirt that read “THIS WILL DESTROY YOU”
and you should’ve known then but it was already too late
too late
too late
and you were already moving, already in motion
she made her darkness shine like gold.    

she was wrapped in silk and satin
that would have burned you if you tried to touch
and she was sitting by a window
waiting for you.
she wanted to keep her sadness close
and her vastness open.
she didn’t understand what it meant to be the moon
and you should’ve known then but it was already too late
and you were already moving.
she was a wolf, she said
and her knowledge could eat you
alive.
you, on the other hand
have always been a deer.

                        she spoke with a voice of lush and luxury
and wore her jacket over her shoulders
on the first day of spring.
her enigma was thrilling
and she scared you
almost to death
but not enough to make you leave.
she had hands of ice
and the breath of heartbreak.
she still remembered how to laugh
however cynical.
she was just as lost and dismembered as anyone else
but knew how to hide it
among sharpened knives
and glasses of red wine.
she loved the thought of drowning
but yearned to be saved
and asked you for help.
she let you in
but she was a self-proclaimed goddess
with secrets deeper
than your lungs.
she was water
and you have always been air
and you should’ve known then but it was already too late
and you were already moving.
the whole time you moved within one word
and that word carried you to places she never could:
chance.
she tried to warn you
she knew she couldn’t be the person you loved
yet somehow you still did
somehow you still did
(she) did still you, somehow
somehow you still did.
it was already too late
late too, already, was it?
it was already too late.
before you even met her
before you even saw her turn around in that coffee shop
before her smile
before her accent reached your ears
before your arms touched
before she read her writing to you
before she opened
before she placed her hand on your back
before you watched her walk away down the dark city street for the first and last time
before you met the body behind the screen, you did
you loved the words.
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