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She was a poet of words entwined,

A wild muse, in a tamed domain,

Eyes closed, she plunged into her world of words,

Floating through fantasy,

She wrote of a truth so loud, you cannot ignore,

Scratching the smooth white surface with her pen,

She scrawled memories that can never be erased,

Her lips mouthed the words she yearned to speak,

She wondered how it was to hear her voice recite,

Her pen spilled words of sorcery, like that of a serenade.

In a gloomy world, she painted in screaming colour,

She wove words like a cocoon that provided warmth,

The hidden side of her craved darkness, away from the light,

A home it was, where she conquered her inhibition,

She danced in an enchanted grove, away from the prying eyes,

Her ink ran effortlessly across the pages giving life to words,

They found solace on a book she refused to show,

Why? They wondered, she laughed,

It was an escape after all,

From the universe’s mad circus of life.
MarcellinaGrace Jun 2016
I lay lost on this floor
Thorns wrap my **** flesh
The throes of hurt ever more
For I have no urge to thresh

Once our bond so strong
A friendship of love
Reasons are lost among
Nor care of thereof

Wrap me tighter in these binds
For I am no longer whole
Your eyes are lost and confined
Our numb and lost souls

Bleeding wound deep within
Flame no longer ablaze
Empty heart of what has been
To carry on a haze

For we are dying my love
Amanda Mar 2016
Strangers.
we've become
Strangers
and without you
I've realized
how strange it is

to go from

Everything
to
Nothing
to
Best friends
and back to
Nothing.

And yet
I still love you;
though now we're
Strangers...

*isn't it strange,
how strange it is?
Amanda Jan 2016
If ever you need
an instant reminder
of your mortality;
cast your eyes
toward the night sky
and gaze upon
the endless stars.
Chan Dy Nov 2015
They say you can find a right person for you
in every corner of the world
What a shame the earth is round.

Ironic as it seems but one day in my life
I bumped into you -- they were right.
Amanda Oct 2015
I've been holding on so tightly
to something that's never been mine
that it took me this long to realize





I was the one you left behind.
<<--------<
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Your colors are so heavy, how dare I, I cannot sleep. Years inundated under, through skin coils, marigold fields. Yellow crocuses, orange California poppies. Moors of cattle ranchers, yokes of oxen. Plasticine uber-confidence, silky white-skinned testubular thrice people harmonies. Blisses of contagion, contagious bliss. Wrists and incisors, tying down in a bedroom, waking up to live harps and choruses. You dance like you're so alive, but I'm so alive I can't dance. Or breathe. Or knead my fists of earthen wears, or sell my soul completely. I drove off a cliff last night, but the four foot fall ended neatly. The plateau authors my chance to sew my bright, beyond- my fortunes. But the hour before I fall asleep, seems to be the greatest torture.

— The End —