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tree 11h
i had a fantasy of loving someone to death
i'd love their soul, their deepest, darkest secrets and fears,
i'd give up my heart for them
they'd love me back by some twist of fate, and
we would live happily ever after

but then why is it that by the time i learn of my love, it is entirely irrelevant?
they've moved on, and i'm stuck between chapters
eventually i'll have to start the next

and why can't that next chapter be with you?

is it so wrong to try to love someone?
is it a sin to accept love without reciprocating it?

'what if you hurt yourself? what if you hurt them?'
well then so be it, what is a life without suffering?
if i am a sinner for accepting happiness into my life without bashing myself for it, then i guess i'll burn in hell

i'd rather be in heaven with you for a slice of my life
than burden myself with the obligation of fulfilling a fairytale
i may not be in love with you
but i could be
I confessed that I cried
while reading bright dead things,
and my mother smiled
because I'm the delicate kind,
and said that I loved poetry the way my grandfather did.

Shuttered eyes, slipping into the realisation
that it's funny how spirit skips a generation,
and all at once I'm bleeding blue,
recalling the pictures of you,
coated in tears that wet my lashes
like grass in morning dew.

I dress myself in pearls,
from what I've heard,
they were his favourite,
and walk to the Siren's sea,
in honour of a memory
that's not taken from me.

Because I still see him in my cousin's face and every gentle soul I meet.
I greet him with our mirrored mannerisms and the phrases I repeat.

I treat him with every plateful of pomegranates and sugarcanes.
I feel him every time this desert rains.

I hear him in his many namesakes,
hear his absence ringing in my mother's heartaches.

I'm near him when I pass his Phoenix palm in our garden,
towering tall, touching his ghost in the seventh heaven.

And when it's my time to drop the curtain,
and my poem fades into the mist,
I'll step into the afterlight,
and tell him all about it.


Copyright © 2021 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
To my grandfather, I wish I had known you for more than five years. I hope you're at peace.
Awaken me, take away my confusion and pain
Shine a light through me
Echoes of angels surrounding me in an ethereal world of never ending bliss
Golden gates that behold behind them a bright and beautiful  place which only those who truly know will see
Souls of familiar beings I have loved and adored embracing me with a smile
I return the same smile down to those I know who still remain on earth
I will wait to see you again
And I cannot wait to reunite with you, my friend
Poem of mine from 2019.
Mark Wanless Jun 2
i saw a heaven
no i did not not really
the mountain is cold
Time passes by like a whistle in the wind. Ignored and only observed within the thickness of one's skin. The once gnawing temptation in Lula's eyes were now exchanged in kaput like a dead black swan in the lake.

It grew on her and she can only justify it by moving her legs back in forth and forward with her ballet shoes; she can only obtain her physical through the applause of everyone around her. Yet, there were trickles of blood forming inside her internal wound — as the piano strikes another note in A minor, she can only whisk in pain and undone drafts in her head. "Tis will be over", she raises her head upon the crowds heaping in excitement, she turned around and flew her wings upright and the heads of the audience once more clapped in vain and delirium nonsensical pleasure.

As Chopin's symphony were almost in the last note, she stood straight and made her way to the middle. There, she locked eyes with her forbidden lover and a small smile throughout. The intensity of another Vivaldi's winter classic can be grasp once more and another set up of white swans gathered together — formed a circle and she went in the middle. Her eyes turned black and her wings bleed another tint of jet black and crimson. The crowds awed in reverence and she soared above them. A starlet in the headless crowds and dreary sweet rustle of voices gave her another bliss.

And while she was served aloft, there were another macabre symphony that plays through the soft rough piano; it was a solemn prayer and they were the kind souls going up to the heavens.

"Go on, Salem. Play the winter magic," Salem could only look at his muse and he strike another note, passing notes two steps from their 'haven'.

Lula slowly ripped her wings for the last time and smiled to all the headless men. Her satin dress reveals her plumpy chest and an hourglass body. Lula is a goddess black swan. Men could only forward their eyes and threw her pennies once more and she could only move in her balletic conventional pose. For the last time, she flew with her black tinted wings and they were all beheaded.

The white swans began to sing in a solemn outcry until it became too remorseful. The white swans turned their heads down when they met Lula's dead eyes. Her laugh echoing the whole stadium with its own persona and it is like crawling down into waltz where it reaches their earshot. They can only sing in albeit and expensive heads started to explode.

"Two steps from hell," she sings.
You can listen to, 'Salem's Secret' by Peter Gundry. This is where my inspiration came from.
Carlo C Gomez May 28
Come rhyme with me
In a bit of
Harmony
But suppose
We juxtapose:

Lemon drop
Bitter
Tear drop
Bawl
Sundrop
Flitter
Raindrop
Fall
Duck
Duck
Goose
A­ little heaven on earth
Before all hell breaks
Loose
~
Chrissy Ade May 26
She was praised for being silent
Dismissed for speaking out loud
She was living in a woman's world
Where her chances of being heard
Would only happen if she spoke up

Her voice was soft but certainly not brittle
Sounding just like the rain
But her words strike like thunder
Ominous and commanding
That carry a weight no man could ever lift

Her face resembled that of an angel
But she raised hell like the devil
Her ancestors' wildest dreams
A plum blossom in late winter
Blooming in adversity
Unyielding to the patriarchy

But men will try to rein her in
To contain the fire she possesses
But she was never under their control
Ferocious as a dragon, freedom to roam
Burning all their limitations

A precious gift from heaven
But your worst nightmare from hell
She is a woman, all in one
Who has come into her own
And she won't ever let you forget
Never let a man steal your power
tia May 18
would you like to dance, my dear?
waltzing above the fiery pits of hell,
oh my, it would be very tragic if you fell.. !
so please hold on tight and stay near

you must wonder who I am
I'm the one with a heart caged behind feathers
a holy being made from perfection and pressure
time is surely ticking until I let go of your hand

dear, dear, why do you scream?
I thought you no longer feared such trivial matters
feed me your soul and all of its shatters
oh? no no... this is not some dream

you wished for me to come, did you not?
I do as you ask and dangle you above death
yet here you are, clinging to me with all your strength
do not worry, your body will have use when I leave it to rot
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