the pale blue avieli come and greet me,
my toes dipped far past the skim of the surface.
my ankles, small and knobbed,
gently sway, nodding left to right.

the lovat seagrass spindles and knots with passing aquatics,
smoothly unraveling once through.

the demon, who seems to skirt around this area
of deep greens and violet hues,
lightly takes hold of the flesh of my human legs,
gripping the bone between darkened talons.

it beckons, “what a delicate creature.”

the zephyr of summer leads to misjudgment.
warm, honey-soaked humidity drenches my mother’s linen.
bowls of pomegranate left on granite countertops.

i pull myself in deeper
sulked with an internal despondence.

my eyes seem to catch the reflection of light
of the glistening fangs of a predator.
yet still, i let myself sink into him.

he grasps onto my shoulders, flushed and olive,
dappling the swimming pool with red puddles- a sweet nectar.
holes filling the side of my bovine face.
spurious cinematic comfort.

the shadowy figure proceeds to engulf
my carameled view with the bitter fruit of
knowing the end of a story
before it has had the chance to begin.
Bee 6d
It was 9 a.m. and already 95 degrees.
I wished for a pool of ice but
instead I swam in a shirt drenched with sweat.
This was my first summer here.

At 10 a.m. I realized this drought,
this cracking, dry, unwarrantable heat,
might burn away the doorway hiding
away any signs of forgiveness.

11 a.m. lulled by,
heart beating dizzily in sync with the
fan spraying my skin with sickly sweet stale air,
habitually smothering my body’s hasty pulse.

At noon
I knew I couldn’t linger any longer.
Detrimental integrity leading a rope to
the next state over.

One o’clock came and
for just a second, there was fresh air,
or so I thought. Maybe You are what
made up that canopy’s cover.

I couldn’t wait until two, there’s always
some reason to stay.  Time to make due
and evaporate like sugar dissolving in the cracks
of the asphalt burning our toes.
I really hate that I get so sad...
Words just cannot describe the ache I feel when I get this lonely...
Oh, how I miss the presence of my lover...
I miss the smell of his cologne...
The sound of his voice...
The taste of his chocolate skin...
How handsome he is...
But most of all...
The feel of his hands on my skin...
Why must I yearn for someone so much?
He is this giant piece of me...
When he isn't around I just feel so broken...
Who is he to walk into my life & mean so much to me?
I love him so much that when I think about it...
I get this overwhelming sensation...
Its a wonderful feeling...
Like diving into a swimming pool of love...
Jessy Dec 2017
i sit on the floor at night
in my dark bedroom with a single light
im almost finished but not quite
my ideas keep coming as i continue to write

what is wrong with humanity?
has everyone been driven to insanity?
they’re all too busy with their vanity
and their constant use of profanity

i’ve lost all hope
and my mom thinks i mope
but it’s just how i cope
would you rather I hang myself with a rope?

but i’m just a fool
who thought i was cool
but society was too cruel
and now i want to drown in the pool

i keep all my thoughts inside
while i count all the times i cried
eyeing the pills bottles on my bedside
wishing i could’ve just died

so here i sit with my insecurity
feeling as though i lost my purity
is this what you call maturity?
i’ll just wait in obscurity
Alice Wilde Oct 2017
She was a wilting flower,
Delicately fading
Into the depth of her sorrow.

Her eyes-pooled gossamer stars
Falling from constellation webs.
Bouncing on the tile before losing shape
In the atmosphere.

My soul was swallowed into
Her eyes, her sorrow,
And stayed there.

And when I held her,
It was like trying to hold on to refracted light-
I could never catch it.
Ileana Payamps Aug 2017
While I hovered in the pool
I glimpsed at the sky
I noticed that its beauty
Comes from its stars
I fell in love with you
You were shining in my eyes
You were the smallest star
Yet the brightest one
I wrote this as I wished
the star was next to me.
Jamil Massa Aug 2017
Me and the drizzle
Are two different things
Who loves every strand of your hair.

Me and the moon
Are two different things
Who hopes to fall in the pool of your eyes.

Me and the air shiver
Are two different things
Who wants to marry all your embrace.
Dua Hal Berbeda

Aku dan gerimis
adalah dua hal berbeda
yang mencintai setiap helai rambutmu.

Aku dan rembulan
adalah dua hal berbeda
yang berharap terjatuh dalam kolam matamu.

Aku dan gigil udara
adalah dua hal berbeda
yang ingin menikahi segenap dekapmu.
madyson shaye Jul 2017
it's the middle of the night
and I won't rest until
I get the chance to change everything
and jump into another body.
I got chlorine in my hair and
I got scars on my skin
but I'm only trying to keep my head
above all this water.
the end means I stop looking back
you know how skies look different
when you're at a gas station?
I think that's kind of the same
as how your love always seemed sweeter
when it was nearly killing me.
Brittany Zedalis Jul 2017
I remember the innocence of childhood,
like one remembers the smell of their mothers' perfume,
I remember that, too,
easy recollections of railroad ties
and the thrill of hiding
at the bottom of a pool,
hastily replaced with the loneliness
of watching the moon rise
from the center of a midnight field,
overtaken by teenage fury,
violent and vengeful for a stolen childhood,
now adults leaving ink footprints
through the new age,
teeming with a different variety of rage,
unwavering and driven,
lamenting on what could have been

~Leaves of Ink 2017~
~Leaves of Ink 2017~
alan Jun 2017
Walking around the rim of acid water,
"swim on in, you won't get hotter!".
Open your eyes under the brim,
burn your eyes and find it dim.
"Follow me we'll rinse your ear"
search for a hand but you cannot hear.
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