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Anais Vionet Sep 26
What if a ghost loves
me and using its powers
to keep boys away...

That would explain a
Lot. Does that sound childish? We're
seeped in illusion.

I spend all my school
days with the inhabitants
of a virtual realm.
virtual realm, virtual school, with it's ghost-like inhabitants.
Paul Idiaghe Sep 3
the pillow hearts me redder than you do,
      crowns my dreams regal over murky lands,
from somber realms to the wake of blue;

into her clasp, my wingless wishes skew,
      as her cuddle bids two ears to my demands,
oh, the pillow hearts me redder than you do;

she seethes my mind, till dreams vapor thru’
          the sky, bodies pitching, wings for hands,
from somber realms to the wake of blue;

they gnaw unto the moon, shave its bare into
     mirrors, reflecting the truth, so I understand
that the pillow hearts me redder than you do;

in her cradle, dismal storms I can't subdue
      so she showers the sorrow out of my glands
from somber realms to the wake of blue;

and when my barrels empty, floods issue
   upon her, but she stems peace from her sands
for the pillow hearts me redder than you do,
from somber realms to the wake of blue.
Gunnika Mehra Jul 29
The air,cold against my skin,
Teeth chittering, hair blowing in the wind.
My throat parched,
Heart stopped beating, I passed.

The other realm,
Warm like spring.
Heart throbbing,
I gulp in mouthfuls of sweet air.

This realm is heaven I guess,
Or just the waiting room to hell.
Ayesha Apr 2
You inflicted pain,
Spoke silence,
Your words would,
Cower before.
You settled in me,
Hate,
For myself.
A thorn grew,
Out of the earth,
Where a rose,
Should've thrived.
You became,
The worst in me,
As I live,
Down this road.
You rest,
I bid you peace.
I carry on,
A mask of the other,
The soul,
Of those gone.
I grew thorns,
Another came,
And cherished me,
Gave me flesh,
And I see the next bloom.
But,
Like the rose,
It would not last,
As a thing of beauty,
Never does.
You see,
The thorn was prickled,
Kept hidden to not hurt,
But the rose,
That was the other part,
Became,
What the world would want.
The cherisher,
Would look in a year,
And the thorn would smile.
It would be one,
Of false hope,
Because,
The pain,
Of a broken heart,
Is a realm,
Entirely of its own.
Few would dive,
And see,
The thorn would survive...
But,
Just barely.
Nylee Mar 26
No moon, no sun
On earth, no fun
I'd go back to sleep
If I could,
Waking into another realm
.
x Dec 2019
sometimes i check on you
to see if you're still where i left you
where i met you
in the past
in the last bits of my adolescence and memories

in the renderings of broken dreams
and silly nightmares
when things aren't what they seem

and sometimes i think you meet me there too
...to see if im still broken
or lost without you
to see if i had mispoken
when i spoke of being through
to see if i was just mad and didn't know what to do

sometimes in my dreams
i'll let you love me
and i let you hold me
and i'll let you kiss me
and unfold me
because i know you miss me
and we're with no one to scold me
with no standards to uphold me

sometimes i miss you
so you visit me in my dreams
in between the scenes of the seams
you look for me in her
and you look for me in me
in places that are obscure

because we are unable to be
in this more than real life
because decisions you have made,
so you look for girls like me.
to one day be your wife

one of a kind
so although you look for me
you know you'll never find
the woman that i'll be
the woman that i've become
who'd you thought one day 'd have your son

the girl you see in dreams
is no longer yours
is no longer front and center
is no longer fore

you see the girl in dreams
and although you slip between
the cracks of all the seams
sometimes you'll get a look
and it'll make you feel a gleam
and other time's you'll get a peek
i see it when you sneak

you see me in my dreams
you travel through this fine line
to see me in my mind
to defy the realm of life
to see me one more time
Äŧül Nov 2019
Beyond the realm of sight,
Awaits us a honeymoon night.
Its real treasure will be our love,
This true beauty will be our trove.
A treasure of both our expressions,
Tone down we shall our expectations.
For novice luck doesn't always work!
My HP Poem #1793
©Atul Kaushal
James Oct 2019
Like time, are we found through serendipity.
Minutes, a mere tick to unfounded revelation.
Past, are the days when we go subtly by, dissipating into the night sky.

Like time, our corporeal spirits aloft into the pitchy sky.
The tender kiss, a gentle stroke, nuanced by the caressing love of the lunar above.

Like time, are we imprisoned in our own conscious. A mere abstract picture, blown into the winds, caught adrift, and veered into the dark streams of reality's heavy rift.

Like time, we are but ethereal wayfarers: youthful beings marked by ephemeral nature, merely to trance the universe's wake.

And like time, our departure ticks till the last grain meets, and the sand flipped, to start all over again, and again, and again.
Sarah Jul 2019
in waking life we are well fabricated lies,
personas perfectly tailored to the world's expectations.
it is when we sleep that we know our true selves;
our innermost fears and desires, the intricate complexities
of our daily lives woven into an elaborate metaphor
left for us to decipher. these cinematic masterpieces of the mind
often leave us with more questions than answers.
but every now and then, the subconscious realm leaves us a crystal clear message impossible to ignore.
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