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b for short Apr 2016
This one is for the old souls—
for the minds sustained on stories
and the lips that speak only
in combinations of words dusted
with jaw-tingling purpose.
For those who can find salvation
in a good bass line
and the disciples of that
aww sookie sookie now
for the air guitarists
who will only ever make it big
going solo at a stoplight—
for the pairs of eyes
that can’t help but see things  
the way love is felt:
inexplicably with hungry fascination.
This one is for the old souls—
may the world always be
your zealous oyster,
producing enough pearls to fill
an Olympic-sized swimming pool,
and may you always be
brave enough to jump in
wearing only a smile.
© Bitsy Sanders, April 2016
You’re the summer breeze in the city of skyscraper love,
Where teardrops have always needed pearls to shine,
And You,
To bring back their smile.

You’re the lipstick stain on your city’s memories,
A teasing reminder not of what’s gone and past,
But of what’s yet to bloom.

You’re the last sip of expensive wine on christmas eve,
Filled to the brim of newfound happiness,
So that it lingers in your senses,
Till the sun rises in protest.

You’re all this and so much more,
A maiden of march on summer’s shore.
Yet I heard the season’s gossip yesterday,
Whilst I bet on how you will conquer,
Your dreams today
Caroline Lee Mar 2016
We dont wear pearls anymore
We don't frequent the same places or walk in the same circles
We don't
And I am letting my hair grow like the ivy on the walls of my childhood home
And you burned that blue spotted dress that you've finally out grown
There is no crime in this tenderness
This too, will change in time
But these days time is taking all of me
These days I write of my sisters as lovers sent out to sea
The darkness and the waves shroud their faces in the growing divide
I lean into this
Over cups of coffee and matching lips I talk to you like I don't still feel the weight of the ever approaching after
Because now
Feels safe
Because now
Is easy
Black and red and faded blue
I know you've got somewhere to be and I do too
But I don't want to leave because I don't know what comes after this
I don't
And there is no crime in that
Imperfect holy bond of the shared years in some sort of purgatory
We grow
And we rise again
Only to stumble back to each other when heartbreak comes knocking again
We grow
And we rise again
Only to find that we don't wear pearls anymore
We don't wear pearls anymore
We don't wear pearls
We don't
But we remember that we once did.
It made me love more. For C.
Noah A Baker Mar 2016
So there I was, and there you were, all of us,
everyone, dangling their feet off the rooftop.
Four distinctly different artists caught in the same painting
yet, none of us holding the paintbrush to our passions, yet.

Ambitious, yes, focused, not so much, motivated? Most definitely.

Dedicated to manipulation,
to making a masterpiece for the masses,
a decision to "form a more perfect union".  
To map a new demographic before our deaths.

If our desire was to make a mark, well,
we'd be done already.
The mark's been made, but not engraved,
and for it to stay we need to stomp on it until our own foot decays.

And these days, most pictures will fade,
So as us four sat there, dancing with the devil,
we dared to begin drafting on our canvas.
With no brush, but our own fingers,
our own blood, sweat, tears, and elbow grease,
finally finding the paintbrush to be figurative,
that we were manipulated ourselves.

We learned to picture the paintbrush as our pointer,
our palms the palettes, our pinkies the varnish,
a promise our piece would never be vandalized.

The world is your oyster, they say,
and the city was our canvas,
where we painted nothing but pearls,
rare commodities for the communities to cherish
until our masterpiece, the indefinite work in progress, is completed.
background:
we always struggle with pursuing what we want to do due to us believing we can't, or lack of resources, that we don't have what it takes, etc. And that's more or less fear making you think that. Once you let go of the fear in your head you can chase your dreams and passions. Once you realize that it's just a mental block, and you remove it, the world is yours to do what you want. Enjoy!
Gracie Knoll Feb 2016
Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, gold
Diamonds, platinum, silver, bronze
But above all others comes the pearl
Beauty made from suffering
Hard earned reward from hardship itself
The precious pearl was made from tears
Sculpted out of pain
And now she adorns a woman's neck
And shines her beauty forth
So all can see that out of darkness comes the light
Milady K Feb 2016
Everyone would liken my dark eyes to coal
Until you came
To see them
As black pearls
xmxrgxncy Feb 2016
These pearls around my neck, they itch
And burn and mock and ache
For their gloss represents a hitch
No one will ever make.
Noor Jan 2016
So long, my love
For how the sky cries
For how my eyes do

So long, my love
Not diamonds, not even stars
Are more precious than you

So long, my love
My hands, they bleed
And my heart does, too

So long, my love
You taught me that strength
Can be true

So long, my love
Leave my darkness
I need your aura to beam through

So long, my love
Oh my love, it will last
Deep forever, for you.
mk Aug 2015
she handed over different pieces of herself to different people
but never could find anyone willing [or able] to take her whole
// do the right thing, cut the rope & let me fall //
kmp May 2015
In the same space where once laid rubies and pearls
now lies a tangled necklace of simple gold.
Knotted, tarnished and with one broken end,
it rests there for a long time, almost hidden,
amidst bracelets of diamonds
and waits to shine again.
Human
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