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We were in a painting, the two of us
She was holding my hand
In the soft glow of our own bodies
And the warmth of her palm
I felt it in my throat, and on my face

We were in a painting, you and me
And the way you lay in my arms
I felt, a stranger in my own home
Who are you, who are you?
In one strange city of love, I found you
More on the theme of paintings
LC Jan 12
before, questions lingered in the air.
weary eyed nights were spent
stuffing yourself into a small box
for someone who only took you
on long, winding, painful paths
where the ends were shrouded
by looming trees and bushes.

now, the air is blissfully clear.
someone smiles when you stretch.
they walk right alongside you.
there may be darkness along the way,
but they will hold your hand through it.
the end of this path is straight ahead -
bright, expansive, and fruitful.
Safana Nov 2021
Like, how the way now
Thought grow and glow
Things follow and flow
As in air blow afterglow
The happiness flow slow
Words based on comments which Mary Anne Norton posted on the poetry I sketched "Demonstrate".
Aindri Nov 2021
I know the sun might be bright,
But it's nothing compared to the way we shine :)
Do you have that special someone who makes the room glow?
The
flowers
meet
as the  
words of
thought,
the
leaves
touch
in the
wind,
here,
you
share
the little
poems
of the
earth
with
me,
I hold
you
close
under
the
sun,
in each
other
arms
as a
blanket,
a place
where
we will
both feel
safe,
untorn
in the
warm
amber
glow,
healing
our
sore
souls
in our
gentle
sleep,
I will
say to
you, in
silence,
“the
answer
of your
existence
is my
home”.
Strying Nov 2021
you glisten in the sunlight,
and glow in the moonlight,
you're my compass,
my direction in life,
the beat in my heart,
and the sparkle in my eyes.
‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ love you☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
LC Oct 2021
we begin our reunion
with soft, sultry, glowing eyes.
then my fingers ignite his skin
until hungry, crackling fire
consumes our passionate souls.
LC Aug 2021
warm, bright words don't reside in your heart.
an ice wall blocks the way as they depart.
a shy, humble smile, "oh, it's no big deal,"
and those words are suddenly forced to kneel.
the icicles ***** your weary shoulders,
forming gashes, leaving you so much colder.

too much warmth? you burst into flames.
too little? you're frozen and maimed.
your hands, scarred and worn,
rub in vain, ready to mourn
as you look over the wall
to stare at the glow that enthralls.
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