i used to never believe genuine love was real.

beaten down, broken, time and time again.

until i saw you.

you were a light in the dark.

you were an angel extinguishing the flames of hell that surrounded me, that had almost killed me.

instead i now see a fire of passion, that passion burning in your beautiful brown eyes, golden flames igniting within the irises.

it’s something that has awakened me from my deep slumber of sorrow, replacing it with depths of joy.

your tanned skin, reminding me of a fresh cappuccino in the early morning, sunlight washing through the blinds that sit on the window; the foam that sits on top of the warm liquid, feeling soft against my lips as they touch.

the suppleness of your plump pink lips, resembling a juicy cherry being bitten into, tasting sweetness coat my tongue as i take in all the flavour.

you are the embodiment of a perfect summers day, freshly cut green grass, the smell of flowers blooming on every bush, the heat of the sun glistening onto my pale skin, making me feel at home.

you are an addiction in every positive way, one that i do not want to be rid of.

the existence of genuine love, i now believe.

Do good
Good will come to you
Positivity can only return times two

The rows of bluebells
Will still be there next spring
Urging you to get better

You were still there to pick them
And lay them on her casket
You were still there to watch
The years’ dance trickle by

She may have withered with
The bluebells that sad spring
But you’ll be there to see them
Come again
And again

You can blossom with them every spring
My dear,
You’re still alive

If my life were a number
line—for example—

My life starts: 0
I laugh for the first time: +2
I yell at my mom: -3
I win in school: +10
I lose a job: -11

Am I really the sum of these
parts
the absent space of
my negative numbers
in opposition to the positives

Or

Am I more of an absolute value kind of girl?

Cross the faded line where the
Sea meets the sand, stand
Between your world and our lives,
Doubt never the power beneath you,
Within you.

Deny yourself nothing pertaining to
Pleasure. May the wind kiss you,
May the sun warm until it burns you and
May your lovers never hurt you.
Rain will hide your blush if you
Can learn to enjoy the chill.

Sounds of your breath can
Bring you comfortable proof of
How deeply the universe loves you
In the deafness of coastal cities.

Tell those you’ve never known
That I love you, take ownership
Of your stand-in position as a mouthpiece
Of the hypothetical heavens,

Hold no contempt for what is
Uncontrollable, weather as an
Obstacle, creeping fears and
Bad drivers. There is
Nothing which can permanently
Stop them but acceptance of
Their inherent right to exist
and immediate cause for dismissal.

Love, for you can never regret it.

There are so many ways to learn and grow,
to challenge one’s views of life, of death,
of the time in between.

At times, yes, there is a harshness to the wind,
a bite in your mother’s words and an unrelenting squirrel
emptying your bird feeder, but
know that there will be reward for your
continued generosity of thought,
and your assumption of the best in everything.

Given patience, the universe reaches out with gentle touches,
leaving offerings of love in the form of smooth pebbles,
pigeons and friends who offer to buy lunch.

We must learn to accept
the love we are offered,
no matter how unconventional.
Seek this love, be it in the form of a high five,
or in extra napkins for your glovebox,
in petting friendly stray cats.

Find love everywhere
and accept it, because those moments are the other half of the transaction.
Where you offer up time, the universe looks to compensate your loss.

Accept the spare dime in your cup holder, the acorn cap left on your windowsill
and the smiley face drawn on your cup,
as signs that the love you put out is equally
and fully returned by the world.

Bulb tickles in the darkness,
Its light are tinkling in shadows,
Up, up, up above!
It shows high and swim in the dark,
It lights up the darkest day you ever have.

@Wizards_Pen

She wonders what I see in her?
I see the breeze gently tugging at her hair, loose strands floating.
Or the bright colors of her eyes, glistening like morning dew.
The way her freckles draw me in, begging for me to count them.
Yet those are superficial, but not trivial.
She's like a spring flower, full of life and vibrancy.
It's a wonder each and everyday I see her.
She so brave,  growing in the autumn, with cold spiteful winds and harsh freezing emotions of those around her.
If I were a gardener, I'd move her inside for the winter and shelter her.
But she would lose her tenacity and strength.
I watch her struggle and offer what comfort I can, because unlike a flower she is capable of changing and adapting.
I can only watch and hope that she continues to bloom beautifully

A juvenile unicorn dropped his fadeless horn. They covered it with the ivory glaze and hid inside some savory persipan.

He bought her that concentrate of the sweet smile, of the everyday fairy-tale appearance.

Now
she
breaths
erratically, and
the apricot tinge is melting with
her plump skin
because of hot
air.

All of the sudden she giggles, and the giggles jingle like crystal shoes.
The fairy in batiste sticks a kiss on his lips.

They definitely adore
their kisstick.