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saryachan Jan 2016
Conglomerate softness
Plying blissfully the scars off my wounds
An addictive activity with bleak endings
Leaving a small dent on my skin soon

A memento of this visit
Comforting words and faces explain greatly
The niceness in which days daze away sadness,

So I savour this.

A kiss of kindness disguises itself in the random acts of allegiance
Only friendship commits
On the edges of wit,
And the brinks of sanity
I treat my own mind with such levity that fails to address the subject topic.

One day I’ll get past this
Like the seasons which pass by the skies like temporary trips
Staying long enough to make you feel sad when it’s gone
But hopeful that it’s not lasting
Bombastically feeling nostalgia for everything.

The world makes me happy
In the way that happiness only exists within this realm
The only one we know
And for every day that I grow I show the fruits of my labour
Flavouring the air with words that fall out my mouth like crisp apples
Perishable but delicious and nurturing,
Though this apple tree can’t really fend for itself
It has gardeners who defend its’ health,

And I am so grateful
For this help to grow,
Hopefully through these fruits
I can show you
as well.
Emma Hill Oct 2015
Her body flows like milk
Between her legs there resides a **** cherry
She is the sweetest of angels to bless this sullen place, she is softer than the silk of wedding night lingerie
When her all seeing eyes come to rest on me a wave of euphoria overtakes me
The strongest of drugs
Cheeks fill with blood like nectar when her lips move against mine
The rise and fall of her sleeping chest is a poem
It captivates me, forces me to memorize the quiet motion
Her feet fall and she dances like a sprite on my heart strings
She is purity and delight, she is precious emotion
In my arms she is light and when is away the feeling she leaves behind radiates
Never have I loved something so sincerely
Never before have I been graced with something so stark white, child like, familiar and altogether new
Shivendra Om Jul 2015
Give me
not your softness
—tonight

too hard
to forget
—and survive
by Luca Shivendra Om
© Luca Shivendra Om
farron May 2015
and that's when i realized,

you will not come home to me, you never could.

i am not soft or flexible, i am all sharp teeth and rough tongue.
i am more carnage than compassion.
my jaw clenches to show i could be nothing but cruel, never will be kind.

and who wants to call a wild beast theirs?
the fairytales never end that way.
We crave a comfort that touches us like silk
But are afraid of a softness that loosens our skin
There is safety to be found in spaces that are filled
And emptiness tastes bitter when there aren’t hands left to sew you close
Do you find solace in other peoples heartbreaks?
Or are you yearning to let go of your own?
Do you crave promises because you know you can’t keep them?
Can we really find a comfort in someone else’s bones?
AndSoOn Mar 2015
Who said being wrecked doesn't allow one to smile ?
Who said **** like that !?*


Softness is not a weakness ; it is a strength.
Maybe one doesn't notice anymore but this world
is cruel. Softness allows people not to notice that cruelty.
A smile in the early mornings, a gentle touch when you feel down,
A hand after a fall, a hug when loneliness is one's only friend,
Love whenever one needs it. Softness. Courage. Caring.

Softness when one doesn't wait for a payback. When it is from
Pure altruism. Altruism, a rare quality that can quickly be a weakness.
Simply because that strength one must tame, is tiering. The courage to
give everything and not wait for anything back… Softness.
Sadly, to integrate that softness into one's life, it means that,
That one has been wrecked before, that one knows the cruelty of our world to be able to be caring, loving, supportive.

And then comes softness. When one can smile and still be wrecked. When one makes you the priority before oneself. When one can give you a hand after a fall. When one hugs you so tight all the broken pieces come back together. When one loves you no matter what. One's soft.
Softness. Is. Not. A. Weakness. It is pure altruism and pure caring.
It takes courage and bravery. It is a strength hard to handle. And it is rare.
Someone told be that I was weak because I cared too much, because I was too soft. That person told me that the world was going to eat me up. I don't care. My life doesn't matter anymore. The people I love matter and I'll be soft and caring and loving and maybe weak if that can keep them safe. I still don't think I'm weak: I'm just strong enough to notice cruelty and care about it.
Daylight 4U2C Jan 2014
A wicked woman told my love, "**** him and you will be free."
My love paused, and the wicked woman's old twig of a finger pointed off to me.
Love walked to me with tearful eyes, as if she had no choice.
I smiled wryly and told her in the softness of my voice, "Let it be done, and be free.
No sword is long enough to show my love for thee. No dagger, short enough to match my heart's beat.
So please my love, take your choice of my death. Choose what would be fit."
She didn't hesitate, just cry. She, slowly lifting a mirror from the dust.
I don't know why I felt I must, but I wiped the tears away just to savor her touch.
I looked into her sad blue eyes, just for one more glance. Then I shut my own.
I could feel her lift the mirror, this was her chance, let it be known.
A crashing blankness came down on me, soon after the last things I heard.
"I'm moving up, and you're moving down." These were her last words.
I didn't understand them then, but now I think I know.
She will one day be in the warm light, while I'm still stuck in the cold indigo.
I'd always run up the down escalator, like a crazy kid.
She always said, one day I'd trip.
And now I finally did.

— The End —