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Blossoming in the
Snow globe are technicolor
Ornaments, inhale
The melting *** of sweet
And musky. Welcome, Flora.
Pitter patter of
Snowflakes kissing the chimney.
Pitter patter of
My heart while you tend to the
Fire. Winter’s warm with you
A dark emptiness hesitates;
Autumn sparks a flame into the sky.
The creeping winter brings me
Chills, and the ravens of the snow
Appear far too early.

Keep Father Cold away for just a little longer.
These brittle bones can’t handle bitter cold
Until these wounds are cauterized and
I feel the warmth in my blood again.
Give me time to hibernate.
Winter brings out the worst in me, so stay away a little longer.
Winter is a fraud to me
I had no right to love her
Yet when we come together she incites me
As a child she kissed my frost nipped cheeks
Made igloo tears and iced up fuzzes

Then I caught sight of her with make up on her cheeks
She warmed me through and was awe-inspiring
Unbreakable and reassuring like an old friend
We said our farewell for this day  

It seemed as though time scampered away
She distressed me we had a quick chatter then we where on our way

Chilled to my marrow she stayed in the air
Becoming senseless at great lengths  
Beginning to distort my state of mind
I'm brain sick
The sun never seems to shine
Any suggestions it seems undone to me.
MarieAnna Jun 17
Hand in hand you lead me down your path,
Floral vintage dress flowing
Loose curls falling
Average beauty
Unique features
Not high maintenance
Quirky aura
Well rounded
Summer breeze
Scented daisies lining

Lets start the start of this cliche excuse of as story.

Boy meets girl
Mediocre everything, life and story.

Quoting the likes Shakespeare to you philosophically
Whilst listening to some obscure tune.
That leads you to secretly tap into nostalgic themes of your childhood.

In the midst of this you talk about, your lacklustre life, the same friends you've had since school and your mother.

My name doesn't matter,
Wherever we go, I am yours.
Trust me...this story is yours every question I am asked is about you.
Or if it is about me I say something kindly in your favour.
Everything that people know will be through your perception.
Not solid blocks of information.

Thus I refrain from talking too much.
I am just the ethereal dream...

Your hand tightens mine for reassurance
That we both will be led to the "real you"
Gambling every strand of integrity left
They all sense a change in your demeanour
By the end of our "love story"
An epiphany will conclude the chapter between us..
Vanish, I go.

However, I don't want to be just that girl,
Although you are just a boy.
Yearning to become just another man
Yearning to accomplish your dreams,

I am the one whose sole purpose is, is to just encourage you to take that leap.
I float around waiting for you to do so.
......

Into the unknown abyss we walk

Dark chapters of your life come reeling...
You drown in feeling
Your friends begin to question my influence
Your mother says I'm impulsive
Your mundane job becomes a burden
In the box you pencilled yourself in
Alone you erase the walls
Part of me clears away as you are almost there..

This story is nearly complete

Finite

Past angst causes you to collapse
In my clasp you keep walking
Further breaking down the walls you built
Since my lack of presence is "getting under your skin"

I give you innovative ways to begin the art of living
Which doesn't include me anymore, dear.
It’s a fear of mine
Always has been
Since you’ve known me anyway
The very idea of
Being
Being there
Being there… For what?

I laugh hatefully at your lack of comprehension and your surplus of *******

I shiver at the thought of such reality
Being there for you,
Around you,
Near you.
Underneath your breath to kiss you
Dominate my current existence by word, mouth and word of mouth
Or what’s left of it really
In other words, How am I supposed to complete you?
When you’re perpetually at a loss
How a string of pearls adds the final touch.

Or the icing on the cake.
Cherry on top.
Broken promises and placentas
Too much? Not enough
Welcome to my world
I am the girlfriend tightly held by the waist.
I am the spouse with tears streaming for everything
Everything that’s you
Nowadays I’m the widow who never knew the meaning to ‘80s love ballads

And that can’t do for an 80-something shrew
Temporary fragments,
I hope will wither away after a lifetime
Your cheap catchphrases pay me no mind
This may be why I never found you?
I love you

Or maybe I loved the fear of you
As you loved the idea of me..
Co-write daniel archila
Hello Daisies Jun 13
Crooked hats
Green
And oozing

Glowing moon
Black
And sparkling

Soothing brew
Hot
And boiling

Flying brooms
Swift
And zooming

The bats our out
The kids are afraid
What is it about this day
That takes my breath away

I get down
I feel cold
The chill in the air
Leaves a story untold

It's coming
Glowing jack o lanterns
They're watching
Spooky ghosts

Are you ready
My heart's not steady
I feel thrilled yet calm
For Halloween in autumn
Idk I'm really depressed and keep thinking about autumn
It's always been the one thing that kept me happy or calm so I'm excited
JT May 9
In those mornings
just after the solstice,
the last of the vernal clouds
still lingering in sky,
he arrived on my doorstep
again, all fireworks
and bowls of fresh fruit,
green grass and clear water,
a brilliant glint of light
on the glass during sunrise.
I loved the sand
between my toes
enough to forgive him
for the **** parts, the sleep
shaped like carnival pretzels
and the weeks
that clumped together
like a rat king
under floorboards
in the beach house.
We would sit on the porch
in the evenings and
listen to the cricket songs
or the rumble of the ocean,
his warm and muggy body
pressed against my side,
a broken watch
around his wrist
telling me, yes,
there is time enough
to enjoy this forever.

As always, when he died
he died by degrees,
bedridden in the hospice
of September.
I listened to his death rattle
of rustling yellow leaves
and watched the last
of the fireflies crawl
from between his parted lips.
When a gossamer frost
overtook his fingertips
and he went cold for good,
I built a pyre
from his firewood bones
so that his ashes could fall
into the soil with the worms
eating their own tails
and hibernate for a spell
beneath the cool, damp moss.
At last, dusk turned to darkness,
and I watched the moon grow so large
that it stretched the night
like black licorice
and made it longer than before.
My duty done, I turned to go.
The smoke rose up
to embrace the sky,
and at the time,
I could have sworn
that from the corner of my eye
I saw it curl around
and wave and me,
whispering
see you soon.
Revisited this one a couple months ago and just realized I liked it enough to publish!
ollie lynn Apr 18
it's the hot days that ache the most
dull, nearly unnoticeable
as i watch the sun drip down my walls and await... what?
perhaps nimble fingers splitting me open,
prodding at my organs?
at least maybe then
i'd be able to feel something
besides overheated

watch dust dance in the amber light
and listen to the drone of an aged box fan
feeling the seconds tick by
one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten

it's a strange pain, one that spreads from my core out to my extremities
not the pain of something inside but a lack thereof
it, like the time, drips like molasses, like honey, golden as the sunlight,
and it ties down my limbs to uncomfortably warm sheets

it feels as if i've been waiting
and waiting
and waiting
for something
that will never come

on these days i have no choice
but to listen to the hollowness
a sorrow both gripping and just beyond my reach
and i'm never quite sure what my brain is wanting me to do at these moments
is it simply searching
for thoughts to fill my mind,
the silence?
in that case, should i lay back,
let the numbness and the aches wash over me
like hot flashes?
surrender?
let the hole cave in?
or is it trying to inspire me?
should i take this as an initiative?
become the person i've always wanted to be,
not a dilettante,
not a liar?

perhaps this uncertainty
is worse than the sweat
some words about my depression flare-ups during the summer - scholastic art and writing awards 2019 honorable mention
Ed C Apr 11
Knock knock.
I heard it in my sleep,
in my head,
I heard the knocking
between the weather change,
between the fleeting cold mornings
and the calm of the sun on my afternoon skin.
I heard the knock of it all coming together,
the season, waking me from the nightmare.
Seasons changing brings a new reincarnation of the spirit
ffn Mar 23
Temperature rising
I feel I can breathe
Express my emotions
Be happy, at ease
Finally able to think clearly
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