ripples darted parallel wading the stream, as she did and like a revelation you dawned on me you said "my eyes are open, i know. i just can't see." *** ran from your sockets "as far as i can opine, you see just fine" and she coughed maroon tar crumbling back to the riverbed
Absence is to love as wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small and kindles the great — Roger de Bussy-Rabutin, Memoir of Roger de Rabutin
Four thousand meters above the sea, I breathe without air I feel the same when beside me you are no more The black, the void chokes me in the moment’s despair And The Scarlet Fear runs inside me with a thunderous roar
My aching marooned heart bleeds from behind Of the darkened soul that consumes me at each stride But love is the golden aether of my troubled mind An oxygen supply brought to this confusion tide
Without your presence, they were icy nights Though knowing your fire ignited with my fuel Is a mild treat, a promise of a beautiful sight
Kindless trouble, is it all in my imagination? And is the love I feel a mere foolish incantation?
I will never know until she answers my soundless voice
This poem follows a modification of a sonnet structure and follows the story of the previous poem, showing a layer of dissonant emotions engulfing the speaker.
you're flaming. little specks of crimson burn like fire in your heart. your physique melts like *** on a fire and sparks of amber make you glow like a candle in the darkness. magenta lines cross your lips and your skin mocks the setting street lamps and the burning sun.
you're a mountain to me. dwarfing cities below you with peaks that stride above the heavens, attempting to graze the planets if even so slightly.
you are worth becoming the enemy of hell. you are worth every friend you've ever lost to file yourself. you are worth it, because i've never met anyone who loves as perfectly and passionately as you.
You left in the brightest of greens, And came home donning maroon. How long has it been? Eight months. Eight months of your unavoidable absence. Yet, while you were gone, I continued marching on like a valiant soldier should. I’m fighting to be like you, You who is kind and funny and smart and undeniably beautiful. One day, I hope, you’ll tap me on my shoulder And say, “I’m proud of you, kiddo.”
Set in the near future wherein you finally come home.
long white knives that peirce through the skin of their prey first they softly puncture thrickles of blood dripping from the fresh pink wound then, they dig deeper slowly blood runs faster as the predator ***** it in a maroon mess finally it lets go and pulls the once white teeth now decorated in royal red
With little specks of crimson like the fire that burned in her heart.
Dots of pumpkin and persimmon dancing on that one patch of hair she never died back.
Drips of amber and daffodil seemed to glow around her body as she wished to feel happy again.
And a shaded emerald painted like bars which contained her jealousy because all she wanted was to be perfect.
Swirls of cerulean and teal like the tears that dripped off of her face.
And the violet dashes were her moments of tranquility where her hands created magic out of papers and pen and her mind was finally put to peace.
The magenta smeared across her lips, making her feel a tad bit prettier.
Dabs of maroon like the blood that was shed,
When she used the silver blade to pierce her golden bronze skin.
She was a colorful girl behind the grey mask she hid under,
All to avoid the threats she received in black and white.
This was a quick poem I wrote a couple weeks ago and I was just feeling really bipolar, it's like I felt every emotion in a matter of 10 minutes. So I wrote this, since I was feeling a lit bit of... well, everything.