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EmperorOfMine Dec 2020
He's a gentle giant
Tiptoeing around his soul flower
Delicately nurturing the delicate entity
In awe, he gawks from suns to moons
Pondering in anticipation, this wonder flower's bloom
Such a marveling creation, he wants to support forever
But he's so very very big
He could crush the little thing
And so he can never get too close.

As gentle as he may be, he will never be so gentle it doesn't break the flower
So he may only enjoy the flower from a distance, never being able to entwine
Until one day the flower blooms and evolves from a flower to a tree
For a soul-flower is complex enough to be this free
And it's roots caressed the giant's body, gently uniting with its everlasting partner in time

Becoming one, like the tree on top of the giant hill
Together, they slumber forever, in each other's presence, content, and still.

People visit this soul tree from time and time
For many believe that this tree will grant you the sight to obtain your own true love, you'll see

There was a time where this giant thought it would never get to truly love the soul-flower but could nurture it from a distance, and it did so happily.

This nurturing little did the giant know, caused it to bloom big enough to withstand the giant's strength, forming its own strength, in which it used to become one with the giant, for the love of one was so powerful that it amplified the being of the other.
Mitch Prax Dec 2020
Imagine us
the size of ants
dancing among the
flowers and the grass,
the bugs and
the bees.
JKirin Dec 2020
Just for you, baby (only), I bloom.
Your simple smile lightens the room,
Leaving me breathless
And giddy – it’s madness.
Just for you, baby (only), I bloom.
about loving someone so much that your heart blooms
MB Dec 2020
How can one be so carelessly cruel?
To run around a field, picking flower after flower-
not seeing the weeds that have grown
or the flowers you have stepped on.

And I am just a broken petal-
but when you smile at me like that again,
I can forget the bouquet that is in your hand
and let you stomp on me all day
Somehow your sweet lies always work on me
If you love me, do not pick me
As though I am a flower that has just bloomed
So you can marvel at my natural beauty
In the comfort of your small room

Where I sit in a pretty vase on the table
Or underneath glass bounded by a frame
You only show what you want to see of me
As if I am wild flower that you have tamed

You do not acknowledge my leaves
Tightly contained here with nowhere to go
They are hidden in this pretty vase
Questioning the purpose of its own growth

You only see me for my vibrant colour
Will you keep me until you see fit?
When I start to look far from my peak
Will you discard me for another miss?

When I lose the petals that you loved so dearly
And my stem limps against the pretty vase
Would you still care to love me
When you think I've lost all of my grace?

I was beautiful before you loved me
In ways you didnt care to see
How I danced along the howls of the winds
And greeted the butterflies so playfully

How my petals mimicked the warm colours
For a short moment before the sun sets
Or how they glistened against the moonlight
When the storm had finally taken rest

Can you appreciate all of my beauty
When it exists not to serve you?
Would you admire me from afar, knowing in the end
You have no right nor privilege to choose

What you think is best for me
Are only based on your standards alone
And your thoughts regarding what I need
Are only to the extent of what you know

I have grown alongside the harshest winds
I would not settle for a simple breeze
I do not waver against the thunderstorms
I was not made to cater to what you perceived

You see me as a fragile little flower
To take home like a small puzzle piece
So you could complete your picture at home
You took away my freedom for your own greed

Can you be content with loving me
As I am now and as you are?
Knowing you hold no monopoly
Over myself or any of my parts

If you truly love me, do not pick me
Let me stay where I have bloomed
I am content with all that I am
Knowing I am my own muse
manal Dec 2020
the petals of a wilted flower, carry with it the spores of many lives.
found in-between the cracks of concrete and steel,
the boundless love of a wilted flower carries within its womb;
the hope for a new life.

with every kind flower, a tear falls
and with every tear, the excuses start to grow weaker.
the butterflies cluster around the oozing miasma of a broken but kind flower.

but even through the concrete,
a flower learns to rage,  
to expand,
like a silent rebellion beneath the rough and against all odds.

surely, it will bloom.

again, you will bloom.
tears seem to soften the concrete below.
ATILA Nov 2020
Someday,

Someone’s going to laugh on how you lose your spectacles while you’re actually wearing them
Someone’s going to be interested on how you enjoy your food, or work, or sleep
Someone’s going to understand your current feeling just from the way you exhale
Someone’s going to adore on how you hold the frustration when your thoughts were misplaced that day
Someone’s going to tie your knots and complete the constellation of your puzzled mind
Someone’s going to bite her lips, seeing your face lights up when you’re talking about sports
Someone’s going to be in awe of your soul — an infinite library that she craves to peruse forever
Someone’s going to ask you about the mountains you want to conquer, and the battle you would survive after setting only barefooted
Someone’s going to listen to your rant about the regrets that slithered under your skin, ****** the bloodstream, and took you over
Someone’s going to fall in love with your human parts — the depth of you, and every photon that shines in between your broken limbs.

Someday, someone will come. Just have trust religiously.
She is that someone.
the pain rampant to my emptied faith,
showered upon a cautious bed of weeping lilies,
loots a once blissful child
whom begs to **** the relic sun...
blood poetry
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