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Bambi Aug 15
I love everything about you. I love your smell, from the way your cologne and deodorant sticks to your freshly washed skin to the way your natural musk smells when you sweat through a hot summer night stuck to me. I love how your skin is always soft, it brushes up against my thighs and cheeks like a blanket of the highest quality. Your voice is deep, but comforting and I adore all the sounds your body makes, especially the little grunts and sighs. When you speak soft words in my ear, I just melt into soft butter and I even love the way your silly words tease me, even when I get upset. Your bone structure is manly, but in a way that your body wraps around mine ideally when we hug. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunshine is like fairy dust and I could get lost in your gaze forever.
Your hand fits into mine perfectly and your tongue twists perfectly with mine when our lips collide. The movement of your hips with mine is like a metronome to my heart. All you could do is sleep and eat and I would never get tired of watching you. If you were a colour, you would be your favourite, purple, because it represents devotion, pride, mystery, magic and nobility. If you were a smell, it would be freshly cut grass on an early summer morning. Most people would say love feels like a sunny summer day, but ours is like one of those spring days where the temperature is fit for flowy dresses, but the sky is filled with some dark clouds that pass in the evening and there is a slight warm wind breezing through everyone's hair. Every single evening when you tell me you love me over the phone my stomach flutters with butterflies. As an item, you would be my favourite comfy old sweater. I love every single imperfection on your skin and in your soul. If I were to describe hanging out and having fun with you, the closest thing I could compare it to is the first bite of a freshly baked warm cinnamon pastry. I used to hate the idea of life, but if we were to create a family I would actually want to grow old with you. If there exists a heaven, it would be us sharing a fresh lemonade and chuckling next to a lake where tiny birds chirp and eat the crumbs of the bread we baked together. If you were a drink, you would be high quality whiskey and lastly, if you were a person, you would be mine.


i believe i am quite burnt out.

Juliana Apr 2021
I am bamboozled.
The instructions are
a monotonous contradiction.

For every tale
I read of traitorous bloodlust,
of holy hypocrisy,
my motivation to finish
this ****** bibliography
escapes my body,
flailing itself into
the constellations.

I am left nothing more
then a gelatinous sack,
a sorrowful student
resembling some
squashed cranberries.
Juno Jan 2021
I like to think
all these years of schooling and essays and grammar
existed so i could one day adequately describe my Love for you.
Nylee Dec 2020
In this life there is
hidden misery in every sentences.
But by the end of the sentence
there is full stop,
the only sign of peace,
But more words come,
to fill my life sentence,
To write the essay I've become.
Kathryn Apr 2020
People say to me, “How can you believe in God? You must know it’s all just a fairytale.”

And this is my reply:

Have you ever slept in the woods with no lantern, no light, and all the stars and moonlight blocked by the treetops? Then you know what darkness is, you know what fear and uncertainty are. That was my life. I lived in that Night. I can’t explain what years of darkness feel like as a child but it felt like a never ending night-terror that I endured alone.

Hearing God speak to me was a beam of moonlight piercing through the dark and scattering the branches to come and meet with me. He met with me in my deepest pain & loneliness, and He has ever walked with me since. I’ve never known a soul so faithful or kind, so easily pleased or so quick to forgive. He is the deepest, wildest, strangest sort of Lover.

So call me a fool for believing that Someone so marvelous could exist, and naive that He would notice me, and absurd that He would even go as far as to love me. There were moments I thought it too wonderful as well. But can you see why I would fling my life into His arms? Can you see why I’d trust Him with all my life, my soul, my heart? Can you blame me for giving Him everything I have and calling it too small a gift?

While my fragile frame still wanders here, I will be His with every inch of me I have to give. And should He take me tomorrow or decades yet to come, I will fall into His embrace with a sigh of long-suffering finally eased.

He is not so different from a fairytale because He is too strange and wonderful to explain. Almost too much to believe. But until you’ve felt the moonbeam fall across your face and your spirit quickened by its touch, and heard a silvan voice murmur through the windless trees, don’t be too quick to disbelieve.

This is not a complete prose-y/essay yet. I’m still mulling it over but I thought I’d share what I have so far. Feedback always welcome!

**no image because I haven’t found one I like yet
All feedback is welcomed and much appreciated!
Lyner Apr 2020
The stars sparkle like
LED lights
Hung upon the walls of a celestial dorm
A college student in the skies
studies the small creatures below
She writes her essays on myths
that humans told long ago
Her professor grades the paper
judging not on fact, but on prose
Classmates chat in the halls
About classes, about dating, about parties
But the lunar lady continues watching
with a cautious eye
As we go about our daily lives
JAM Jan 2020
It's going to start the playlist with the second video saying the first is unavailable. The first is available so go ahead and just start it from "The Power of Smile by Tupac Shakur".
Ayn Dec 2019
My life is in shambles.
As destitute as that essay...
For English. This sounds wrong...
3 things:
1, camel notation is a way to name variables in computer coding
2, look closely at the haiku, i messed something up on purpose.
3, I may fancy myself as a poet (idk if i can call myself one) but ******* i am horrible at writing essays.
Olena Y Sep 2019
Barn swallows swarm in the nests near the ridge of the roof – they never fly away for the winter because summer in that garden is not ruled by the calendar.

Pears always ripen there, sweet purple grapevines are covered with wasps and apples fall right on to the table…
Here I will always cut flowers into bouquets and make wreaths of dainty mummy’s dahlias and cosmos…

I’ll always collect my herbs and press them to dry in an old book. I just want to preserve my memories…

…how our kitten caught the lizard and how I plucked her to safety. How I held her small body in the palm of my hand and studied the patterns on her skin. How still she was…resigned to her fate. This time you’re in luck, babe. I let you go to the warm cover of the well… you disappeared just like that…will you survive the winter?

I can already feel the coolness of autumn and wrap myself in a blanket to sit down on the porch to sip my tea.

I do the same things I have done so many times in my life…
...ever since you showed me how at midnight Ursa Major and her baby bear walk around our roof, how a salty, starry road leads south and drops its stars in our garden…over and over again in a circle…

The only thing I am sure of now is that shooting stars pay no heed at all to our wishes – they just burn up in the atmosphere and leave no trace behind.
A Dedication.
to My Father
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