Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Allyssa 5d
It was the flash of colors,
Your eyes covered in the hair you hated so much.
Reds,
Blues,
Oranges,
Pinks.
Colors mushed together to find what made your heart beat out of your chest.
Blurry,
Blurry pictures of you.
Like you were always out of reach to me.
Blur
Dante Rocío Oct 12
The inclination
Towards domestic superiority
Does not refund
Ideals lost at discarded gambles.
Stygian kin browser,
Rest abode,
No lark made your path.
Leave the tie bloodshed
At the desk
(Once) home
Torn
A short cordial yet coolish prompt on a business noir photo as white collars break and have no foundance anymore inside the sight
angelique Jul 1
dawn hangs low today, its
golden whisper faint, breath
harboured deep in thought,
its drowsy light drips
down onto the armchair

where, in his worn hands, he holds
silk-sheets and a bottle of wine, flickering
and grainy around the edges

and sitting on his bed, a woman from forever-ago
is dressed in her finest sepia, glass in hand
everyone is placid, frozen, still
for laughter will not escape this room

for this is purely a memory etched in celluloid,
a memory captured in time-withered skin
a memory that burns cold under naked-tongue,
spurred by a primal thirst and a nagging revere
for love, which has trickled away
and buried itself under lashings of trickery

and this place once dripped
with decadence, persian rugs
floating on currents of
fine champagne and amethyst

now, bottles pile up, mirrors flicker
money ebbs and flows
and he lights another pipe,
lungs heaving under
***** and avarice
and lust

love
...its final fleeting moments...
are etched only on film
blanched and faded of colour
laying parched under the oblong sun
Mitch Prax Jun 25
Our love is
like a polaroid-
it developed slowly and
even shaken along the way.
But no matter what our
perfect picture has endured,
it will always be worth framing
as long as you are
center frame.
J Mathew Jun 22
Everything around us shines like a diamond,
But we are trap in a quagmire of cons.
Nepotism, Conspiracy and Conspicuous consumption,
Has chain our real life and precious redemption.

Trapped in fear and others overpower,
A slave we are at our back, nothing is clear.
What happened to this world that was once so dear
We are no longer our own master but just someone's gear.

As days, weeks, months and years roll by
Hoping for a change one day while we thrive.
Never will it happened in this life
Unless we really open our eyes.

While they were smiling and in a lifeline,
We never understood what's behind their minds.
And now when their photos remain just a shrine
We see their real talent and act like we are so kind.

Stop pretending like you care now when they're  gone.
What's done can never be undone.
Posting condolences now and mourn
Are so fake and have no place in a dustbin when they're thrown
This is what I wrote for one of my actor who I really liked in Bollywood because of depression he took his precious life and all this is because he has gone through a lot of fights against injustice
Amanda Jun 15
Take a photograph,
Let it develop slowly,
Patience is virtue.
Mrs Timetable May 27
Vacation wear: for photo shoot

**** sundress
Cute underwear
**** *******
Thong
Moo moo dress
Moo moo dress
Moo moo dress
Moo moo dress
Moo moo dress
Moo moo dress
Polka dot bikini
String bikini
Silky robe
Flowers

Nothing
No offense to The moo moo dress. BLT word of the day longueur
I love taking glances at you
While I take photos of your romantic Pose
between the teeth
holdin a red rose!
Kenshō Apr 5
sugar cane berry stains

lost friends life's bends

mountain still, in the end




there and back i've seen

we were kids, you were teens

we learned a lot where we've been




one more shot before we go

that sacred breath you always know-

when to call it a day
Next page