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Circa 1994 Apr 2014
I’m lying in fetal position, the bed is the womb.
I am nothing.
I do not exist yet.
I practice breathing.
Sharp in and out breaths.
Growing calmer. More fluid.
I feel myself forming, taking shape.
I do not exist yet.
In out in out in out in out in out.
I move oxygen. I stir the air.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Your colors are so heavy, how dare I, I cannot sleep. Years inundated under, through skin coils, marigold fields. Yellow crocuses, orange California poppies. Moors of cattle ranchers, yokes of oxen. Plasticine uber-confidence, silky white-skinned testubular thrice people harmonies. Blisses of contagion, contagious bliss. Wrists and incisors, tying down in a bedroom, waking up to live harps and choruses. You dance like you're so alive, but I'm so alive I can't dance. Or breathe. Or knead my fists of earthen wears, or sell my soul completely. I drove off a cliff last night, but the four foot fall ended neatly. The plateau authors my chance to sew my bright, beyond- my fortunes. But the hour before I fall asleep, seems to be the greatest torture.
crimewavves Apr 2014
there's a weird glow coming from my tv
sometimes i wish it was just you and me
but it's only me and a shot in the dark,
a body wrapped in a long blue tarp.
the flowers were beautiful and so are you,
your tears trace your face like sweet morning dew.
LN Apr 2014
I always find myself getting caught in the misalignment of your teeth, tripping over the angles of your smile and drowning in the sound of your voice telling me stories about the place you grew up. The sound of your voice carries the same comforting familiarity that a child feels when they notice that the clouds never cease to leave their side on a long car ride. What you don't see is that I am merely a cloud of stardust floating like the smoke of an exhaled cigarette and you are a whole universe that I could get irrevocably lost in. Except I hope I'm not like nicotine to you, because love isn't about addiction or obsession it's about comfort and just like how I never forget to lock my door at night because I feel safer with a tiny piece of metal separating the outside from me, I feel so safe in your arms even though they're merely just pieces of flesh.
Misha Kroon Apr 2014
He.
He smells like the first day of winter,
Like the cold air after fresh snow.
He feels like Christmas and Easter,
Like the suspense before a surprise.
He looks like festive Christmas lights,
Like a beacon of radiant light in the darkness.
He sounds like the first few flurries of snow,
Like the cold breeze, a roaring quiet.
He tastes like the dying days of summer,
Like he's always been in a different time.
He is like the world, and the heavens and beyond,
Like the perfect night, or the immaculate finale.
LN Apr 2014
I thought I didn’t need metaphors to describe you

But I can’t help but notice the aspects of all blooming life

Converging and absolutely intertwined

with your sublime being

You are my world
Diana C Apr 2014
Lately I've been comparing people to birds and relationships to cages.
We often try to lure the birds to our cages by using secrets, gossip and materialistic things (seldomnly I hope).
And when the birds are in our cage we shut the door without a second thought. We trap our beautiful birds and think that they'll be happy when we feed them love, advice, laughter and other sweet sounds. Sadly, we don't feed them the sweetest of the feelings : freedom. And by freedom I don't mean pushing them out of the cage and forcing them to fly far away because you can't bare the thought of not having them to yourself. Freedom is leaving the cage door open, so if they hear a more melodious laughter in the neighbours house they may go and hear it as they please. And it also means that you'll be dancing along instead of trying to sing louder and better. Because birds, as pretty as they are to have around, are built with wings to fly around the world. And what a pleasure it would be to know that out of all the sounds in the world, your bird came back by choice?
If you love something let it go, but don't push it out.
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