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Susana Jan 2021
A big house
is a lovely house,
a rich house,
a warm house.

A beautiful woman
is a cherished woman,
a clean woman,
a noble woman.

Both radiate:
her skin glows,
its columns shine
and the windows, oh so clean.

Try and look inside
you can't
              Can you?
take a peek.

As though its windows are clean
and her smile is inviting,
you can only gaze at the exterior
for when you get through the gate, the skin

The interior
is not
so
glamorous.
Rollercoaster Nov 2020
Under an old display of neon lights
two gilded exteriors meet.
Their gold needs to melt
and the lead core bared.
Wilde's prince's lead core didn't melt,
so won't their austere cores.
Their gold melted in the neon haze,
but didn't have the heart
to see their leaden heart
in the bright of the day.
Started with those neon lights that you find in the movies and it just went from there. I'm referring to the Happy Prince and his leaden heart from Oscar Wilde's works. (I'm 14, I've never been to a place where there'd be a neon haze.)
and awhile
ago this
night was
tragic but
magic I
gad in
her eyes
yet the
bright corners
of my
jane have
evolved thus
afar from
the chafe
and this
schism must
die alone
Yanamari May 2019
As I wait
In the night's cold
The echoes of rain long gone
I fall back
Sweet reactions
And sweet smiles
Evoked by the idiosyncrasies of life,
All genuine
Whilst my heart
Congeals the idiosyncratic nature of
My exterior
With my interior.

Duality,
A concept irrevocable.
In it's amalgamation,
The force of its flux
Is unsettling.
And in my unsettled ease
Where does that leave me?
https://youtu.be/ADzobhJVtnw
Rain: II
nabi 나비 Jul 2017
me.
when you see me
you only see my exterior
you see my baggy tees
and hazel eyes
you don't see the interesting parts of me
you don't see
my love for films
my adoration for a cat called lavender
my curiosity stored for murderers
my gypsy like spirit
my heart for poetry and literature
my collection of thick blankets and sweaters
my fondness for the brown haired girl miles away
my memories connected to lyrics and concert tickets
my obsession with candles and sunsets
you don't see the real me
unless you want to
and i want you too as well
because when you do
your able to see
my poetry with story upon story
my camera roll of cat and concert pictures
my messy room after a weekend trip
my eyes tired of awakening from sleep
my blush whilst reading
my smile reserved for my cat and loved ones
my tidiness caused from stress and feeling
my 7 am sleepy laugh
my messy self after a week of difficulty
when you see me
you see all of me
the destroyed me, the happy me, all of me
and you'll only see that
if i want you too
im guarded but no one would know it. for some reason i still think that this is beautiful and its okay to think that
samantha page Sep 2016
i see my sock covered feet
that mean so much more than's shown
moving along to the beat
as if they have a mind of their own

fiddling around
or bouncing to the beat
without so much as a sound


when the rest of me is still
my feet give away my restless interior
the small part of me no one can ever ****
my feet are it's portal to the exterior
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