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Mary Frances Nov 2018
You feasted yourself with
the beauty you saw in front of me.
The smiles, the laughter, and
the nonsense talks behind
those mischievous glances.
Yet you never cared to look
or even spare a glimpse
at the scars branded at my back.
schuyler Jun 2018
old, cracked marble busts
of people lost to the folds of history.
weathered, ancient scripts of dust
about people forgotten in misery.
we steal glances at each other,
your eyes wander over the rim of your tortoise-shell glasses.
my gaze flicking back to my yellowing book,
cautious of how long it lasted.
hearts thudding in the study
cannot be heard by each other but we still worry.
Natasha May 2018
The rain puddles in the cracked city pavement, a drowning vision of striking familiarity. Nostalgia encasing those mulling over their Earl Greys in coffee shops. A wooden stir dissipates the bubbles in the steaming liquid, contrasted by the cool droplets streaking down the ordinary windows. As breathing slows, eyes lock deep in thought upon the bustling, grey castle streets. She slows as she steps to the sidewalk, meeting a gaze before they realize. Her face like snow, her lips like two tiny rose petals just starting to push from their blossom. Her eyes as dark as they are deep, rounded and child-like. Coming to, the strangers been locked on one another for just half a second longer than deemed socially acceptable. She breaks stare, adjusts her bag; and with her hooded head to the ground, makes her way past the old coffee shop.
all for you May 2018
i should've known
stolen glances
were just that

stolen
why do i keep looking too deep into everything? // love always
Shane Leigh Feb 2018
It's true that this life is made of moments that we often forget are full of life. We let them pass by on unscented wisps of the wind, and ignore the dew dripping into a pond creating a tidal wave of ripples for something as small as an insect.

We often forget that the shedding of the trees are an annual thing and each year they are more beautiful; that grass does not die to stay dead but to regrow again; that there are still roads that travel with the natural twists and curves of the land rather than through it with quickly passing glances; that there are trees as old as my great grandparents would have been today, and seedlings just planted at this very moment that will, with time, be just as old.

Even though there are rivers that connect the south to the north and the north to the south, flowing through rocks and crashing against cliffs that, in their own right, are beautiful and steep - seemingly endless - with rocks compacted together and ageless, I'd like to remember there is a sky that does not end beyond my vision can see and that even the most miniscule of things can change the face of a mountain.
© Shane Leigh
I wanted to write something I haven't for a while. Enjoy (:
Mica Kluge Nov 2017
The mistake was the look
     -He won't see-
     -It's just a glance-

So I looked.

And he saw
     -Caught my eye-
  I looked away.

Too late.

I can see his eyes
     When I close mine.

I am betrayed
     -Not by love lost-
     -Not by him-

But by that look.
You know that look. That feeling. I'm sure you do.
Erin Nicole May 2017
I look at you
you glance up
I look away

I glance up
you're looking at me
I glace away

This little dance,
Our peeks and glances
It continues on

I hope you
are braver
than me.
Gabriel burnS Dec 2016
too long your lips have stared
into the body of my thoughts,
studying the patterns
and the features,
deciphering the blueprints,
my irrational being

...those petals,
their textures burning in the color,
popping out like embers, fed
every regulated breath

you are compelled
to lick away the dryness,
wipe the prints and traces,
put out the flames covertly...
but make it look casual:
you cannot be caught spying;
or the government of words
denies everything,
severing the strings,
abandoning its secret desire
behind enemy lines,
to be captured, questioned,
and tortured
by your very own
collaborationist conscience
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