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My throat is a bear cave
The claws of my tears
Have scratched through
Rock and limestone
Leaving the interior
Raw and red
Then comes
The boiling lava
Traveling down
The dark tunnel
Molten rock
Destroying everything
In its path.
I hate this feeling!
Cox Feb 13
My tears can no longer seek home in my eyes,
They refuge to the mainland- flooding and filling every crevice- they take away life.
Toxic and hot,
They spurt out as if they are small spits of lava.
I cause pain and devastation,
I **** nature.
K C Sikat Nov 2019
Red waves flow at the rocky shore,
crimson ate at the rapidly dying sand,
engulfing it slowly with what the river had bore,
supplying it with life straight to its core.

Don’t take a dip at the boiling pool,
be craven from touching for it’ll demand
to engulf you into a river of heat for its fuel,
for the hungry glow follows no man’s rule.

And be not convinced by its beguiling beam
since obeisance is what it does not understand
and by Pallas it does scheme,
before it has your final breath be screams.

A flood of blazes crackled through the town
crashing at the quaint and old into the land,
hastening bitter and searing waves falling down
an event so grand and so renowned.

But as a tide grows ever so high,
closing into the Seraphim at God’s right hand;
near midday, it gently ceases until it dies,
and the last red drop that treads does dry.
First Poem posted :)
Grace Haak Sep 2019
OUR LOVE WAS LIKE SCATTERED SPARKS
THAT LIT UP LIKE LAVA LIGHT
BUT EVEN VOLCANOES OF PASSION DIE
AND I'M LEFT WITH STARLESS ASHES
THAT REMIND ME OF A LAVA LOVE
THAT ONCE ENGULFED THE NIGHT IN FLAMES
seraph Aug 2019
Magma, molten, amorphous.
My blood is red hot
And searing, bursting
Out of its confines.
My heart is caustic,
Compulsive, incongruent.
I erupt over and over,
I wonder
When I will run out of earth to chew up and spit out.
Cox Jul 2019
The girls pants were the colour of lava,
The girl loved sweet doom and drama.

The stars in the sky were acid green,
The boy she loved became very mean.

The cacti had peach flowers,
The clouds would endlessly weep for hours.

She lies quietly on her bed,
The weak flower was her dread.

She closes her eyes and dreams of a new place,
Never wanting nothing more to head out into the dark space...
Anastasia Jun 2019
Your eyes
Ice in
A pool of lava
Cool stones
Against feverish flesh
An ocean
Against the lips of a desert
Your beautiful
Blue
Eyes
c.b.❤
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