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Images cross their eyes,
Porsche and the posh,
A chauffeur to fly them far,
To dines lit with heavenly chandeliers,
Where lips sips on ancient sweet wines,
Images cross their eyes,
More of the dreams of gold.
I guess everyone has these dreams of gold.
juliet 6d
i am the honeybee,
maker of the blood of the sun
i dip into the flower
and adorn myself in dusty light

they take my liquid gold
and keep it as a delicacy
forlorn, the sun will fall
i hear the honeybee’s buzzing symphony
At the pinnacles of right and wrong, where life is changed and paths are drawn,
When your thoughts are surrounded by the hardness of stone,
And intertwined with small traces of gold,
Don’t lay on the rock and feel the cold,
Burn away all that traps and treasure the gold.
Those small shining pieces are what holds the truth,
The solid fixtures of wisdom and proof,
The only part that may bring you through,
In the darkness and chaos of all the paths you drew.
JCL Nov 4
it comes
slow, gentle

I sink
deeper, further

my breath
longer, easier

my awareness
narrowing, hazing

I sleep
succumbing, forgetting

It snows
falling, drifting

I feel
serenity, surrender

the flurries
golden, sparkling

I sense
wholeness, oneness
Elisabeth Oct 31
He passes that gold chalice down

Full of wine redder than the blood you share.

He knows you can make everything gold but drinking this only once will ruin those chances-

And he hands it to you with a smile on his face.

His own blood made into wine

Through those iron bars on your window

Supposed protection from this deadly spell.

This opportunity for you to become one yourself  

An alleged King

But only to oneself
I stare at the empty place in my bed,
I don't need you there
for you stained my sheets
and left my heart there to bleed.
I choke on my tears.
I cry not for you,
but for a heart that has so much love to give
and no one to give it to.
A heart that yearns to be loved,
only to bleed heartache and pain.
And a need to be touched by a love so pure
that it would love the pieces back together
with nothing less
than seams of gold.
For this heart
realizes
that a woman,
so capable of feeling,
so intense,
deserves nothing less than gold.
Pyrrha Oct 28
I want to fill your every broken *****
With the most dazzling precious gold
So that you can see yourself the way I see you
David Abraham Oct 25
Meet me one day in the inky black shadow
when the ground is speckled with the sprinkling of the glaring flow
to bathe ourselves into warmth with the sacred, shining, golden ichor.

The sky burst its vein on the jagged peaks on the horizon,
so let us cherish its blood
and lay on our backs among the buds
until we wizen
in the flood.
2304, October 24 2018

This is more of a narrative than most of my stuff.
Sarah Levene Oct 24
somehow,
i always manage to ruin something.
Anything.
Everything.
I wish the things id touch would turn to gold,
instead,
they turn to black.
Everything i love
turning back as if i were never there in the first place,
and i deserve it.
I
used to be so happy
and healthy
and sweet
now i am nothing
but petty
and toxic
and mean
i don't know when
or  how
but something inside of me died
like a flower left in a vase a little too long
i started to wilt away
started to lose my petals one by one
kindness.....
             Joy........
                        self love.......
Leaving me one at a time
and then seemingly
all at once
as if when the last petal fell
I died with it.
I dont know what to do with this carcass
of a girl who once was
except to hold it up
if only
to catch a few final rays of sun.
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