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Greg Jones Oct 6
And we looked at the summer for the last time
In the twilight of our youth.
And we spoke to the summer for the last time
In the highlight of our truth.
And it was real but we never knew.

You needed emotions for the first time,
It reflected in your eyes.
I hid my emotions for the first time,
As it echoed through my lies.
And it was real but we never knew.
We never knew it.

When you can see who you could be,
Maybe we’ll meet again.
When I forget all my regrets.
Maybe we’ll meet again.
annh Aug 17
red
neon
rain spattered
pavements teeming;
one thousand prismatic shades of meaning

graffiti-laden puddles splish, splosh, splash;
as midnight turns
to blue, and
dawn to
ash

‘I walked up, and I walked down, and I walked straight into a delicately dying sky, and finally the sequence of observed and observant things brought me, at my usual eating time, to a street so distant from my usual eating place that I decided to try a restaurant which stood on the fringe of the town. Night had fallen without sound or ceremony when I came out again.’
- Vladimir Nabokov, The Vane Sisters
Kathleen Apr 2013
For the record, I suppose it should be stated I lost my soul in Vegas.
I would love to go back there and find it among those glittering lights and buffet tables of never-ending artful desserts.
It's funny that all I really remember are those pretty desserts and fried mashed potatoes.
I want those things back.

I'm like a raver with those lights.
I want to consume them.
I want to glow in my pores.
Not the cliched glow that wraps itself around the impregnated many,
but the glow that comes from sitting next to neon for too long.
That it could somehow stain you.
Rub off like fairy dust on skin.
That I could fly away due to its energy or wishful thinking.

Take me back to Vegas,
where they still hand that out for free by the boatload.
I need not gamble.
I need not glad-hand.
I would simply sit idly by the buzzing of pinks and blues and greens and reds.
And me and those cheap 1920's lights will have a moment,
a moment I can share with the cocktail waitress who asks me for the third time if I'm sure I don't need a little refresher drink.
Anastasia Jun 28
i often wonder
if perfection
is attainable
in simple things
like a rose
although it has thorns.
like the neon frogs
despite its poison.
like the sun
despite it's blinding beauty.
in you,
although all you've ever done is hurt me
an old draft I finished about an old dream I used to believe in
Anastasia Jun 23
I remember last night
With a sunset sky
Pink
Lilac
Baby blues and glimmering golds
I wanted to see you today
But I couldn't
Not really
I remember last night
When we talked until the streetlights turned on
When I put little white daisies in your hair
And you smiled for me
I wanted to do that tonight
But I couldn't
Sadly
I remember last night
When we sat by the creek
And caught fireflies
Flickering in the dimming light
Like little neon stars
I wanted to do that tonight
But I couldn't
And it hurt
I just wish I could feel okay, right next to you
Wyatt Jun 16
Just a
n e o n  c o l o r
in the grey,
afraid of what
they have to say.
S t i c k i n g  o u t
like a sore thumb,
I’m an
a r t i s t
in their office.
Weird and
d i f f e r e n t?
They don’t know the difference.
Their boring’s in the air,
it almost makes me choke.
I’m just another
a l i e n
in their telescope.
I’ve always been told that I was weird. Maybe they saw my saucer take flight.
My mind jolts and I wake
My head a murky sea
Sloshing with every thought

I glare at the night
The night glares back

You can see them
The night’s many servants
The moon
The neon
The dark

The moon
Calm and mysterious
Sitting on your bed for hours now
Filling the house with it’s charms

The neon
Rowdy and nocturnal
Living in the bars downtown
Inviting those who are lost

The dark
Quiet and sinister
Filling the empty spaces
Watching from the windows

All three pulling
The moon pulls my hazy mind
The neon pulls my hollow heart
The dark pulls my hidden instincts

All three my worst enemy
The moon when I’m laboring
The neon when I’m trying
The dark when I’m thinking

When will these eyes close
the horses are still beside the hill
the hotel still has a neon sign
that’s pleasant as the wild way he would
say it as it is
xtine Apr 14
You are the book I hold in one hand,
And on the other, a highlighter.
I remember how we were told to
only mark down the important parts with the neon colours;
but darling,
I need more than this one pen of neon pigment to highlight these pages,
Because your entire being is the most important thing in my life.
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