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Johnny walker Feb 23
As we walk throughout
our life leaving traces of
our footprints to where
we go
But just like the traces of our footprints start to fade with passing time and as life draws to
end
Like footprints on a sandy beach washed away without a
trace
By the In coming tide just as If we've never been here
Our life fragile like foot prints on a sandy beach washed away with the In coming tide as If we've never been here
SassyJ Apr 2016
As the night shifts, the glass prints
The universe retorts and restores
Connective strands pulls from dark
Exposed from the rumbled tosses

Mosses generate, diversified integration
Masses inaugurated in magical reality
Electrified from the syndical sorrows
Tarots of the forgiven, sad sung songs

The tree branches held strong as I slid
The town halls illuminated to capture
A magnificence of a nature umbilical
Enclosed in the warmth of the placenta

My centre cored on the base of the earth
A need to belong on grounded dense soil
Calm tornados and typhoons unheated
Treated in fountained grace of existence
Baylee Oct 2015
The unique
drip-stain
left on coffee cups
is intriguing.

No two are
the same,
even if the same person
drinks from them.

But they aren't
all that different either.
A light tan drip
stains around the opening
in the lid
of each coffee cup.

Some are surrounded
by lipstick prints.
Others are just
a coffee drip-stain.
Chase The Moment Feb 2015
Relationships are fingerprints
Each becomes
You

Whorls spinning into seamless
Connections
Chaotic cosmos

Never Removed
Forever
Embed

Touch
The world
Leave a
    mark

CopyRight©2015 Kelly Chase
All Rights Reserved
The walls around my mind
Are Japanese screens
With intricate designs
Of memory
Printed on them
Easy to break
But easy to repair

The walls around my heart
Are made of obsidian
They protect a delicate city
Untouched, as of yet, by human hands
Hard to break
When they do
How much damage will be done?
Paris May 2014
Some guys will leave lip prints on your body that will fade away, but will leave cuts in your heart that will last forever.
Martin Narrod May 2014
while I may do you perfectly. the snow angels on gasoline st., did you
see them? All of the houses were dripping wet too, one girl with gold laces on her leopard shoes wore red plastic pants; totally soaked to the bone.

to train ourselves to brave the heat of each others' bodies as we awaken in  one small bed, one small blanket. the both of us yawn. it's so fun to make waffles but neither of us like to eat preference. I love you to death but prefer to brush my teeth alone- one tooth at a time.

embrace your new t-shirt, even though not everyone enjoys a good show of a flock of crows. hand drawn indie wicker-hipster prints. coffee by the pint. you crack me up like vitrifying glass sheens of the individual bubbles in a bubble bath or the ******, glazed eyes of the monsters' eye while a shark attacks.

creaky sounds of bodies mapped by fingers, tickled tummies rippled by listening to witch house singers. you crack me up, count chocula. It's Saturday, I love to laugh while laying down. everybody's funnier when they're laying on the ground. we toast to ghosts.

luminous lengths of birthday candles

lickedidddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd­ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd­dddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd                                                            d 0  y0urself as best you can

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