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You make me smile a bit
The one void, fading, devoid.
I do not know how it is.
Do not ask me to make it concise.
All I know is, you brighten the grey from the black shade the shadows bring.
I walk, head bent down, without Life beckoning.
I hear your voice, nothing musical, but lyrical.
It's a miracle I'd say when I wake up the next day,
A poser to keep my blues away.
I do not know why it is.
Do not ask me what I can't fathom in.
All I know is,
one day I met you and the sun shone a little brighter the next day.
The wet rain could not blur away what I saw.
Under the red light, I fret for my life.
After you, I come to my senses enough to force a smile.
I know you know,
You know I know,
We know they know,
They know we know,
Still we carry on,
Walking down these dorms,
still and seperate.
Doors locked, tear stains on pillow cases by dawn.
Love do not breed the strong.
Hate brought no muse worth wasting.
All I know is, lost we will seek.
Sought thus found was never thee.
From last night I couldn't distill.
Today, I learned to be still.
Tomorrow, I know I will need you more than yesteryear.
For the one who brings me relief.

Cynthia Go Aug 2016
The words curled around her tongue
vanishing before she gets a taste of it
Her hands are inked with sentences
Her stomach are filled with phrases unknown
Every bit of her skin
Are marked with ancient lines
Four lines, five lines, six lines
And she lost count of the others on her back
They called it stanzas
From the World Before
When words were freely written and spoken
On things called books and papers
With an ink that must be the same
As the one inscribed on her soul.
She is an obscenity
A walking contradiction
A curse in the post human language era
As she bears all the words and languages of the world
So that all can see through her
The beauty that words can make
(Yet none can read nor understand)
Even though none can read nor understand.

She wears her soul on her skin.
Still, no one can read her.
archana Jul 2016
I looked feverishly at the sky thinking how naked the night looked, and slowly glanced at myself.
I was covered in a blanket; wrapped up in the dark sky with a thousand shiny stars shimmering all around me.
The twilight chills seeped through me, causing my bones to clench themselves and hold on tight, and they made me realise:
If the night sky; a mere fragment of the universe loves to expand itself and love its cosmic-self, then I should be able to love my own body no matter how cumbersome it is.
I can conjure my body into a canvas and paint it. I can be my own chromatic artist.
Inaya Jun 2016
You reside in my eyes and flow through my tears, so I let you rest on my cheek for a while before you fall away from me.
Jordan Fischer Oct 2015
Tired irrational thoughts
Miss the page and end up inked blots
What use is this?
Too many thoughts for paper to hold
I thought this would clear my mind
or so I was told
Time to be bold
Commit these thoughts to skin
For every body is a canvas
Fill it with your art and memories
Fit it with your love. Cover your skin.
Cayla frazier Sep 2015
The first time can be scary
not sure you made the right choice.

Unfamiliar sounds and smells
gives you a rush you can never forget.

But with every new one
you slowly become submerged in this world.

The ink lets you express your heart
or heals your soul.

For a moment time stands still
and your at peace.

Accepting yourself and choosing
to live the life you want.

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