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mae Aug 28
I'm your paradise surrounded by a drought.
Only you are mesmerized in the sunlight,
Unfortunately for you, you are about to die.
I can't save you,
Because I am a figment of your imagination.
I am the desert in disguise.
Dehydrating you with my lies.
The expression of my love, I am disguise as a savior, to distract you from living
Osiria Melody Feb 15
do i think about                                           you a little too,
too, much? tossing and                              turning at night is not
enough, yearning for a simple                   touch. one on my shoulder stating, "hey, what's really up?" do i talk about you a little too much? my voice, unwinding and in a frenzy (so over-the-top). hoping that you'd–you’d speak to me. infatuated in your delightful smile, nothing else is worthwhile to contemplate over. after relishing the strides of your graceful walks, the stifled laugh that makes my eyes twinkle,
the sweet acts of kindness, the exaggerated pick-up lines,
the hilarious jokes that make me laugh 'till my stomach
shrieks for help, i can't put into words how much I
freaking love you, although you're only a crush.
i'm madly in love you. i really hope that
me and you will love each other forever.
sadly, this is only a figment of my
imagination. sadly, love is
only an elaborate

(Please read this poem in landscape if you're on a mobile device.)
Who do you have a crush on?
day at the museum
passing people
some with intent
who will notice
slight bow
eyes flutter
do you notice?
all while
black locks bounce
blending away
figment of imagination
Alle Jan 11
you reach forward,
stretching to take
my hand in yours,
but when i reciprocate
and extend my hand
all my fingers brush
is a cold screen
and i realise
you were just an image,
a figment
of my imagination
Svode Oct 2017
What is there when we all are gone?
What use comes from the greed-possessed wealth,
other than to please our current existence?

What hotel room will the rich reside in?
When they are in the land above,
and where among them will the poor men lay?

What was there for us to know?
When history reaped what it had sown,
and learnt it's lesson: only to forget again.

What is there beyond today?
A figment of time, life and space,
or an investment into the unknown place?

Life is the worst thing to have happened to me,
yet it is the best in every degree,
because without it I wouldn't be pondering the idea.
The best figment of the imagination
Is the one where the dreams are actually real
The pessimists line up
Like it's Black Tuesday
To tell you otherwise
Because they've been followed by Pennywise
All their lives
And they can't seem to lose him for good
This poem is a head nod to you, Stephen King. Thanks for being a writer and inspiring us all with your wonderful stories.
Xyleena Therin Feb 2017
A strange yet euphoric feeling
A confusing mix of colors
You were a phantasmagoria all along
Just a fantasy, just an illusion.
Wake up from your dream.
Isabelle Jan 2017
•fig•ment : something made up or contrived
•re•al•i•ty : the quality or state of being real

*Dreaming while sleeping, and sometimes awake
Whimsical fancies fueling escape

Wishing is for the uncertainties
Collecting more than three from genies

Checking out my daily horoscope
Astrology might give me some hope

Calling out all the deities I know
Bending my knees, blessings they might bestow

The magic still holds expectations
Of this world its seen from all views

But the signs are unclear, faded
It doesn't feel useful when put to use

And I still await, alone
For something that may just come passing by

Or maybe in the form of an angel
Dancing with howling clouds across the sky
Collaboration with my friend, NB. I'm so happy with this one, thank you for accepting my request!
Erin Suurkoivu Nov 2016
who told you
you were not beautiful?

does that mean
not worthy of their time?

but anyway
they stated as such

if anything
their actions proved otherwise

but no matter
I’m trying not to mind

that I was never real
figment of imagination

whatever you cast me
I betrayed love

and cast heroes into new moons
beached jellyfish

I’m learning to gather bones
painting a canvas

instead of
reading newsprint

sculpture of messy clay
ultimate opus

good gold
honest trinket

bees’ honey
I recognize my self

ageless blue

in all that is

small practice
sunburst navel design
"B side".
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