Afia 17h
Green.
That peeks through my window
and craddles me to sleep.
Green.
That caresses my hair and whispers sweet.

Green.
That sips the vibrant rain
and drinks the dew deep.

Green.
I seek your blood that accepts no creed.
Green, I live.
Green, I bleed.
Green, I find no color so keen.
emnabee 5d
The green, furred, chemical-ridden, rotten corpse of a lemon
Found today in the bag, among the pristine,
Ignited a firestorm in my mind.

This lemon is a metaphor for destruction:
Cancerous, putrid things.
Infectious gangrene.

All the things wrong with me.
Triggered by a green lemon.
ph Jul 3
You are no lemon, or lime but
for some reason you
are still bitter, even
more so than a grapefruit
and I credit envy
with the way
you are so green.
Perhaps you are this
way because it is
winter when you bloom
and the sun isn’t out
to kiss you in the way
it does with oranges.
and pathetic it is, when it
pierced me deep to espy
thriving new blooms out
in the open;

while in the glum sanctum
i stay barren and wilting bit
by bit, as a hush descends
anew.
the envy and helplessness.
bret Jun 22
i learnt a lot about
myself today.

i learnt a lot about
fear today.

fear of
missing out
mostly.

ive heard the term before
but never thought
it was something ive felt.

i went to my high school graduation
ceremony today.
only a year ago it was me.

that day wasnt for me anymore
and i stuck around
like a fly on the wall
asking if they remembered
when i was there too.

if people can be toxic
im glowing bright green.
Danielle Jun 21
Sweet treat left upon the pavement
A sweltering, bereft mess becoming sticker.
I wish to scoop you up,
Stuff your blue shell back into
Your crinkly wrapper, all done up
In a pale green so dapper.
In a pale green so dapper, was the line that got stuck in my head.
Harri Jun 16
I am jealous of your life before.
Of all the fingers that have touched you,
And the ears that have heard you say
“I love you.”
I am jealous
Of all the parts of you I will never know,
Of all the years that I didn’t play a part in,
Of all the smiles that I didn’t cause.
I know I have no right to be,
I cannot claim every piece of you,
I cannot deny you a history,
I cannot be your everything.
But god knows, I want to be.
Because what if those ghosts of fingers
Still touch you?
What if you still hear the echoes
Of “I love you”s that tripped from tongues
Other than mine?
What if all those smiles,
Half remembered,
Make you long for lips you used to kiss?
What if,
What if,
What if.
I don’t know how to not be afraid
Of losing you.
I am scared that one day you will wake up,
And look at me,
And realise I am so hollow
And I have so little to give.
I am scared that you will realise
You are worth so much more
Than me.
Uta Jun 15
A bird,

flies,

over lands and seas.

Freely feeling the cold air brushing through its wings.

A red bird it was,

who changed colors,

yellow when happy,

blue when sad,

green when excited,

red when in danger.

The bird was flying away from another bird.

Who was much bigger and stronger,

its colors were black,

and black meant,

a terrible thing,

that no one, not even a bird,

would like to know,

it,

was,

death chasing life.
Comment and tell me what you think!
Gaye Jun 14
In all my imaginings, a pastoral past always found a place for themselves. Quite annoying. But as leaves disappeared from my eyes with the distance my car travelled, I constantly found myself lost in the cities that I lived in. I would want my daughter to have a huge balcony full of green leaves, I want her to listen to crickets from the city.
Semicolon Jun 13
Come, let's
Take a walk down the street
Where the troubled hearts go,
To hush their insecurities;
Stroll along the roads
Where the broken souls go,
To take a breath of life;
Wander around the avenues
Where anxious minds go,
To find solace;
Saunter in the crossroads
Where ripped consciences go,
To heal where they were pricked;
Amble in the places
Where people like us go,
To mend their dreams.
Come, let's take a walk down the
Boulevard of broken dreams,
Shan't we?
I was listening to Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day in the afternoon and got this idea.

©Semicolon
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