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aisha Sep 14
they named her Isabel

when she was born
there was a thunderstorm
outside her hospital room
her mother looked into her eyes
and saw the abyss staring back at her

she tried to keep Isabel in her womb
long enough to pass the date but
she could not stand
the pain in her brain
flames that could not be tamed

Isabel was chained
under the stairs
an ascent of nightmares and broken prayers
insinuating despairs of soldiers and heartbreakers

Isabel was her mother's thirteenth child
born on the thirteenth day, a Friday
she had nothing, only broken mirrors
jagged sides that cut through her fingers
every time she picked them up to look at her reflections
she too saw the darkness in her irises

they called her by her other name
superstition
for when she walked her feet did not touch the floor
people believed in her but she was never adored
she locked herself in a wooden coffin
only coming out of her hiding to the knocking
of two

I saw Isabel that night
when I was on the verge of collapsing
she had a black cat in her arms
she was humming, swaying
to the flashes of the lightning

I said, 'Isabel, are you here to save me?
Are you here to be my saviour?'
she laughed

they named her Isabel
for she is the devil wearing pastel
with my soul in her fists, with a crooked smile
she whispered
'If I'm your salvation, welcome to hell'
13.09.2019 - Friday
elle jaxsun Jul 18
on the horizon
pastel clouds float
swirled by the breeze

underneath them
in awe of their color,
i only feel blue.
I challenged myself to use the words blue, breeze, and horizon or skyline.

You can try, too!
Unrealistic-
Expectations
Sends me ballistic,
I can't function!

Animalistic-
The beast in me won't stay in its grave!

A mental misfit-
Tell me am I too much to save?

These pastel colours are painted on my life pallet:
Love and Laughter,
Rage and Regret
The memories I'm after
The memories I want to forget
The red and blues are abused

These aren't the colours I should see!
How could I tell you?
You never come through-
It is killing me
I'm at the point where it hurts so much I hurt myself
Don't you understand the meaning of 'help'?
Twilight is pastel,
grey grief gripping the soul,
wrapping in a pall of thickened mist
with a sickening shade of
mourning brown.

At the horizon,
you wait for the homing birds
to fly on its wings
like a dream glued to my life’s script.

Many times I wondered,
why you come back to this land
where the scary hand of the butcher
scuttles every dream;
where humanity drowns
in its own anguished cries.

The smell of blood is
intoxicating when its grasp
tightens like a noose
on my consciousness.
Lily Madden Apr 10
words from a conversation we had days ago echo in my mind turning into a lullaby, softly coaxing my eyelids shut. welcoming deep sleep to my weary heart.
each part of our souls intertwine to create a perfect panoply facilitated by the moon.
you and i under the same sky, all of a sudden the displeasures from the day before slowly melt away into the dark nighttime.
in the syzygy of our cosmic hearts we bask in the ethereal glow encompassed comfortably by the stars and moons.
involved in a state of a constant somnambulism so i never have leave the blissful reality conceived in my subconscious.
dreamers indulgence, walking hand in hand, free and filled with halcyon in the safety of sleep.
Casey Mar 4
It's that feeling when you wake after a long sleep.
And the sun streams in through the window on your face.

I would give anything just to stay like that forever.
Getting up takes too much effort.

It's that feeling of heavy-lidded eyes on a long car ride.
The steady, low hum of the highway lullaby.

I beg sleep to meet me there.
Yet, she is evasive.

Because it's not what you see when you dream.
My attempt at describing a color.
Savannah Oct 2018
Pastel skies came crashing down,
Watching sugar coating fade.
In darkness sat sapphires,
Wrapped in soft suede.
Frosting covered words,
Poison puff pastries unpaid.
Seraphic stranger unmasked,
In my honey lavender masquerade.
CA Smith Sep 2018
Pastel
Would be pretty nice right?
Something that's my favorite color
Mixed with a little extra white
A little faded
My colors are jaded
Just like me
Because I feel all mixed up inside
mint Aug 2018
flat washes of ink in blue and pink
dragged fingers across the sky
leaving fuzz and glitter in their touch
heavy colors leave me feeling light
the trees give me breath in the morning crisp light and i am mist
floating and twinkling in the air
feet touch the floor
the cool air with its hands
interlocks with my fingers

my hand wishes for yours
it reaches and it falls
empty promises that i’d wish you made
so maybe i can hope for someday
the sky wasnt made- with its pretty pastel shades
to enjoy on my own

pretend with me
take my hand like you can
walk with me like our feet can eat the miles between us
let our lungs fill with freshness
let your lips touch mine
i know you cant but
please step into this painting of a world with me
hold my hand and smile at the watercolored sky
dont tell me yes or no or why
just kiss me under inky pink skies
apparently i wrote this 10/13/17. Things are different now, yet startingly the same. I dont know how to fall out of love with this person and I think. I’ve accepted that. Im ok. Me and her. Are ok. Even when we arent, i know we will be.
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