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TheKindling Oct 12
A painting is passion mixed in
Acrillic Plastic pasted upon paper.

Photographs focus found
Phenomena in plates of particular potions.

Poetry pleads rhythmic prose
Picked per perfection

Yet none of this can describe you.

A relaxing river runs a
Rivalry to you.

A surreal sunset's similarity is a
Strong contender.

Fall's festive fervor holds a
Flame to compete,

Yet all run short of describing you.

You are the shore of a beach,
The gentle capped waves lapping at your feet.

You are the kiss of sunrise peaking over the mountains promising a new day

You are the first cool breeze on a warm autumn day.

You are the smell of fall foliage and
Fresh apple pies in the oven.

There is no one way to describe you,
Just a thousand things.

Almost as beautiful as you.
For a girl who will never read this. Recovering from a girl who could read this.
silk sheets scraping smooth skin
hiding from the morning sun-
the sky looking down at her
picking clouds out one by one.

jays chirping the same song
each night before bed--
the blues lyrics
always getting stuck in her head.

the shirt she wore when she first kissed you,
hands grasping so tight her veins went
blue.

*
when she sees her favorite color,
she only thinks of you--
but when you're together
she is never really blue.
if
if the sky clouds over
my fading heart,
if my lungs collapse
and break apart--
will you be there to hold me until the end?
will you be there to cherish my last breath?

if I keep my tears hidden
behind a cold winter ****,
if the heat of your touch
melts the ice in my head--
will you be there to hold me until the shivering stops?
will you break down the chains that I've built up in knots?

sometimes I deny
my love for you,
for my heart is too wary
of feelings so true.

but if I were to say
those three words back,
would you be there to hold my heart up,
or would you let it collapse?
Ben McAnoy Jun 20
I’m nervous.
I suppose that’s to be expected.
You said to be continued -
I’m sure you’re nervous too.

You look pretty in the moonlight
Standing there, eyes bright:
Uptight.
I barely even know you.
There’s time for all that.

Deep and rich
Are the rolling waves, pulsing tide,
Like the waters of an exotic land
I hope to find with you.

It seems we are travelling there now,
Without moving an inch.
I’m closer to you now,
Beginning to understand that

Before I met you, I wasn’t looking;
Now I’ve found the best treasure,
And I will treasure it,
Cleaning it when it gets tarnished.
Kiah Gordon May 1
Love is a dandelion
It grows and grows
Slow and steady
Pushing away the dirt and grime of the world
To show their true colours

Vibrant yellows
Burning the air around them
Little suns
Shining in the grasses
In our dark reality

Pesticides and hate try to put them out
But love and dandelions live on
Standing tall and proud
Reaching towards the skies of hope
Proving everyone wrong

Although love fades
Just as a dandelion’s fluff fades into the winds
But new love is planted
With the seeds of forgotten loves
Like all dandelions come back
Seeds going forgotten in the winds
Till finally landing
Creating new life
And love
Kathleen M Apr 17
if i had known that the pain
i'd have to endure by you
would eventually earn me him
i would cut my own wrists
and watch them bleed
i'd let you
wound me with your vocal weapon
i'd beg you
wrap your hands around me
around my swollen neck
bruise my heart until you're satisfied
and leave me in pieces
spread them far and wide enough
so that he will find me
somewhere
find me everywhere
leave me empty enough so that he can
fill me up and mend the cracks
of my battered surface
let him be the soil that sows my seed
the core to my being
then we shall grow together
and bloom in unison
forevermore
in sunlight
You were black, gray, maroon
like rich dirt soaked with the liquid lives of your see-through demons.

You were white,
blending into the snow falling all around you.
I wish I could have been those ice crystals,
resting on your lips and grazing my chilled fingertips against your brow.
That’s where I belong.

You were astonishingly pink,
and I’m pretty sure I was too.
Three parts infatuation, one part cold.
Those magenta tints on our cheeks burned brighter than any constellation above us that night.

You were red when we went back to your house.
I was a fiery orange, still containing flecks of yellow innocence.
You wrapped yourself up in that blue blanket adorned with lint,
and dozed off to dreams of your lilac prince.
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