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Danica Jun 15
I am a cemetery
And all of your memories engraved
With your name, months and date
I am all that lavender and daisies
Waiting for clouds with heavy rains
As you left and ruin me like hurricanes
We are the cemetery
Kai Mar 17
He was a hurricane.
When we met, I dismissed the rain
as a pleasant spring shower.
Everyone saw the dark clouds,
but his eyes were so bright
I thought they were the sun

After we spoke I fell harder.
The wind was pulling me in
He was amazing.
I thought I was in love.
I was a fool to think I could fall
for something so destructive.
But I guess, at the time,
I just thought he was
helping the flowers grow
instead of ripping them up
by their roots.

I said yes when I entered
the eye of the storm.
Everything was so perfect.
he was everything I wanted:
kind, compassionate,
he said I was beautiful.
But beauty doesn’t last,
everything perfect gets a scratch,
and the sun went away
as the storm raged on.

He was a hurricane.
He said he would **** himself
when I needed to leave
so my anxiety would go back to normal.
I never liked the sound of thunder
and his voice boomed with every word.
he came to school with
bandages on his arms
and blamed it on me
because I had fallen asleep
and forgot my phone was on silent.

He was a hurricane.
I fought for my life
and he won.
When I got to heaven,
she was there.

She is heaven.
Her eyes hold the secrets of the universe.
Her hands fit perfectly in mine
and she lead me away from the storm.
She says she has been trying
since the beginning,
but he was like a car crash.
I couldn’t stop staring.

She is heaven.
Her laugh is filled with butterflies
and her smile is brighter than any star.
She says my name and I melt.
I have wanted to see heaven for so long,
but I couldn’t begin to fathom the beauty
I would see in front of me.

I knew about heaven.
I knew her energy couldn’t be matched.
I knew her happiness was short-lived,
when everyone wanted it to be forever.
I knew heaven was someone else’s hell.
I knew my heaven had been hurt.
I knew she had been through hurricanes.
But there is so much about heaven I never knew

I did not know how blissfully ignorant
my wonderful heaven could be.
Heaven has a short temper.
She’s sassy and sarcastic in the best way.
She can hold her own, but sometimes
she wants you to hold her
because being someone’s heaven is hard.
She told me I was her heaven.

I was her heaven after so many hurricanes

When he finally killed my spirits,
she brought them back.
He was a hurricane
that brought me straight to heaven,
and I couldn’t be happier.
finally found her, and now i want to lose her all over again
sarah Oct 2019
not sure if you quite know
how much you mean to me

maybe you don't
and you're oblivious to
the hurricane you cause
in my brain
is that why we are
so far apart?

or maybe you do
perhaps you've seen
this hurricane
the strange brew of emotions
that only appear for you
and it scared you away

no matter the requital
(or lack thereof)
you're still the water
that fuels my wind

my love for you is this hurricane
and i've always loved the thrill
either way
all i know is that you don't feel the same
Balaguer Aug 2019
We are hurricanes,
leaving behind traces of who we are.
Separated by categories,
are the souls of every individual.
We seem to be dangerous,
others catastrophic.
One leaves you alive,
for you to later
find a way and get back up.
To think the next one could be,
one of your parents,
a new or old lover.
Bashing through your soul,
a friend or relative,
Leaving your body uninhabitable,
seizing to exist.
The soul inside can take it all,
but for how long?

Hurricanes come and go, which one hurt you the most?
13-17 May 2019
i swear
because of the logo
on my watery blue jeans
a hurricane in scala ridotta
used the fabrics in a way
inspired by
or maybe florence
People inspire from disasters.
Vani Oct 2018
Love her like she’s the only girl in the world.
Make her your top-most priority. When you’re awake, think of her. When you’re asleep dream of her. Drink in her beauty even if it’s venomous
Eat up all her words even if they hurt Breathe in her scent even when she’s stinking.
Let the love for her grow on you till your mind is full of her thoughts and your sketch book is full of her portraits.

Paint her scars beautifully with vibrant colors.
Get her name tattooed on your heart. When she strolls in the darkness, wander along.
When she falls down, lie down with her and stare at the night sky.
See the world through her eyes

Hold her hands when she is cold. Embrace her when she is scared.
Kiss her tears when she cries and become the reason behind her smile.

Don’t try to plaster her wounds.
Don’t try to pull her out of her miseries.
Instead, accept her the way she is- scathed and destroyed.

Be ready to kiss her good night at 3 a.m. ‘cause tormented souls like her can’t sleep earlier.

Pour all her insecurities, sorrows and grieves in a wine glass
and gulp them down in one go because that’s all she has to offer you. Emotions are like wine anyway, both get stronger with time.

Struggling with the pieces of her, you might lose your sanity.  
Loving her might be difficult, suffocating and disturbing at times but don’t give up on her so easily.

Soon, you’ll know why hurricanes are named after people.
Thanks for reading this.
your mouth creates hurricanes
when all that fiery anger erupts
straight upwards through  
the icy oceans
within your stomach
filled from mental tears
upwards off your lips
those destructive hurricanes
are not supposed to make
on this body.
words can sure be devastating when spewed in bursts of anger.  like lava.
why hurricanes are named
after people, not things.

- v.m
short start to a busy day
April Hapner Jul 2018
I lay here watching
Which layers are spinning...
And what direction?
My mind dissects the clouds
Like a fog being burned by sunlight...
During the late morning.

This pattern above me
Rather pleasing... yet confusing...
I'm on the right,
I find it yielding left...

There's designs I can't name
Animals I can make...
Yet they all run away as I move
And the clouds spin trails...
Watching them evolve
Like a lifelong time lapse.

The drawn up moisture....
The streams of steam condensed...
Swirled and forged into cotton-like pillows of uncertainty.
The colors are the Indicators of moods
The light and mysterious
White and normal
Green and envious of the oncoming destruction
Black and gray depicting ends of sunshine filled days...

The life underneath grows, quivers, and in series of decays...
Some offer condensed clouds as flavored swirls in mugs...
But I rather watch the ones that love
Carrying wind and rain...
Have swirls of their own and a Name.

Though subject of objections
The will of nature has a forge...
To churn this stream of water around
Like spun sugars of cotton candy.
Much like a carnival, life is a surprise
An unyielding wild ride.

Directions are unclear
If i will be here
I have watched the life of
The swirl in this giant mug
Smack the coastlines with giant hugs...
Some rough love...

Though oddity
Have you seen what clouds can do
When spun around oak trees?
I am a Hurricane Hugo [1989] survivor.
I enjoy weather and thunderstorms.
Once I dreamt of being a meteorologist.
There used to be a 100 year old oak tree outside my bedroom window. During the eye of the storm we notice the tree was turned. In fact you could see the disruption in the earth... as roots were twisted around and almost braided. The tree was uprooted and twisted like a tick... And survived for years after that storm. By far... the most interesting tree story I have.
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