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Anne J Nov 2018
Pitiful aqua trying not to dissolve into the afternoon sky
She feels her dreams of being free also pass by
Her orange to pink hair falls unto the sandy beach
And remembers the dreams that are far too old to be in reach
Nectar from her locks engulf her body into a sweet poison
That the purple tinted water swipes away from the ocean
The black birds flap away as the orange vicinity closes
As the woman’s purple lips drip in shades of wilted roses
I recently got a tub curtain, and it has a large flower and then three mini flowers or so, all filled with the color orange and fuchsia, with dark pink branches, which gave me a sunset, tropical and memory lane feel, hence the poem.
emnabee Aug 2018
I was down.

And so I decided I needed flowers.

But not roses. Because roses have thorns.
And I am so sensitive lately.

I decided, not mixed flowers.
Because I’m mixed up.
And I need to stabilize.

I decided, not tulips.
Because tulips droop.

I decided,
I need gerbera daisies, bright.

Because gerbera daisies stand upright.

And so I bought some
in a wonderful shade of Fuchsia.

— The End —