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Raven Feels Jul 5
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, cold bot still bold:)

just a visit
lifts the limits
for the color of blood to become a stranger
now my hopes are all in danger
do I avoid the future be a savior?
do I souvenir the past a cinnamon flavor?
people you knew
not pictures the memory drew
like the bone failed it pains
to sustain
then in blink to be fractured drained
the mirror cries with me
but in my head laughs and mocked screams
now not my territory
maybe a new ceremony
me attending alone
counting stars and skipping stones
am I the weird one?
the dresses on the opposite borders not fitting
on that ferris wheel I stay sitting
the skied view more interesting than the far party track
staring at one piece when the museum is packed

Francie Lynch May 14
She's posted a picture of her son,
Sitting on a swing I assume is moving.
I wonder how this Spring day moves him.
The sun stretching
From his head to his toes,
As he arcs to and fro.
I'll never know.
It's a picture of her son.
Does he read, write, paint, build?
I'd like to see his photography.
Perhaps a picture of his mother
Sitting on a swing;
But it's him, sitting there, still.
So many pictures.
Luna Maria May 18
I stare at the pictures of us
I still have them on my wall
I only seem to remember the happy memories
Ripples in the water
Roses in the bush
Rainbow views
Raindrops and *****
Remedies for the soul
Relaxing times
Reflecting, wishing
**** Red dress
Revitalised mind, richly defined
Take me there...
Another one off the cuff, with some inspiration from irthlingborough lakes.
Acina Joy Mar 4
We're just paintings
on a plaster wall,
where chips fall
to the linoleum floor,

where we sweep aside
the love and the loss,
our prayers that we cuss
when we have nothing more.

Our exhibit is open
to the ****** and the wicked
and all the good and the naked;
those who blindly trust.

Our love chips off
but we are fine with that
for we never look back
pretending to say, "we must."

In years, maybe
when we're fading and old;
ripped off the frame,fold,
when we're hastily stashed away —

If we were humans,
who could move, love, kneel
kiss and frame, and steal,
please ask me: "would you stay?"

And, yes.
Yes, I would, anyway.
Man Jan 31
story, after story, after picture
to craft a life
you don't live
to portray yourself
as something you're not
authenticity is of no concern to you
and everyday you do more to confirm
that to nothing
do you stay true
and the days are getting shorter.
Hours into minutes into seconds,
squished together like nesting dolls
until they are lost to infinity. You don't

know the value of sleep yet,
so read your dog-eared paperbacks
by the muted glow of your flashlight,
hidden under your blankets like a

prodigal son. Keep your heavy eyes open
because the pictures in your books
will silently climb out of their pages
while you're asleep, escaping through your

bedroom window. Your bones are getting longer
and your book bag is getting heavier.
So spend your precious seconds wisely,
because as the years change, those seconds will get shorter.
for Mr. Jeffrey Bean, who reminded me what it means to be a kid
Sara Nov 2020
Pictures of them haunt my mind
They haunt my dreams
Then, I wake
And I’m back to the same void
It’s weird how
The closest people to your heart
Can simply become
A memory, nothing but a bittersweet look back
All those times you spent together
All the tears and laughs
Embedded in your soul
Tears, again, in your eyes
The difference now is,
They’re not the ones who wipe them
No, God forbid they even know
That you missed them
You hold it so well
Deep inside
Until one day you break
Out of nowhere, they just slide
All these memories
All these feelings
They slide out of your eyes
They creep out of your skin
And you sit there
Aware at last
Aware anew
Bitter reality
Sweet dreams
Just a collection of happy and sad
Felicity Smoak Nov 2020
from long ago,
filled with memories
you thought you forgot.

every moment seeps
back into focus.
I remember it,
just how it was
in the pictures.


I remember it.

it has been
2 years
3 years
5 years
6 years
8 years
9 years
even 10 years.

I remember it.

every moment seeps
back into focus.
I remember it,
just how it was
in the pictures.

I wish I didn't.

what once brought
now brings

what once brought
now brings

what once brought
now brings

I am no longer
instead I am

I no longer
have purpose,
instead I am

I no longer
feel comfortable,
I am troubled.

every moment seeps
back into focus.
I remember it.
I remember it
so well.

I wish I didn't.

Sometimes even your closest friends decide to leave, too. And then all you have left is memories, in pictures.
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