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Daniel Jul 2019
An ocean away in Colwyn bay,
a glamorous stranger is looking my way
tilting her head and lifting her shades,
her furrowing features are meeting my gaze

Shamelessly eyed from a platform away
As if she had something important to say
Then turning around with a curious frown,
she starts back towards her familiar town

To elegant houses of ashlar and brick
A terrace of Gothic adornments and frills
Victorian angles and white window sills,
becoming the specks which are dotting the hills

A town held aloft by a battered plateau
and anchored to ocean by columns of stone
A picturesque coastline, a spring getaway
The home of a stranger, her postcard landscape

The rattle of metal and the wheels over rails
The men wearing colours are starting to wave
My thoughts turning back to that taciturn dame
The din of the train means I'm pulling away
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
Dear anger,
my blood boils
my heart screams
as you make my rage active
and pain passive.

Dear anger,
you put me in danger
for you make me a stranger.
You need to get a grip,
because you make me flip.

Dear anger,
you make everything look so flammable.
Luring me to set my problems on fire.

Pain, insecurities and fears,
I burn it as fuel
to rage you.

I want to believe
that I am still sweet inside,
eventhough I am sad and tired.

But you make me believe
I am someone who inflicts pain,
is cold hearted and fake -
for she is unknown to me.
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
With her jagged edges she stands,
gazing upon the connection between the well versed,
as her language remains misunderstood,
dark and chaotic.

Her edges are sharp,
and grooves are too deep.
The rhythm of her heart
& blood pulsation
feel out of orbit.

An outsider,
an outcast
trying to jam to fit in puzzles;
blunting her edges,
painting herself with different hues to blend.
Yet within she is out of tune.
i feel as though my body is no longer mine
a stranger in my own home

a b a n d o n e d * and *b r o k e n

isn't it funny how the one place i'm supposed to feel safest
is the one that does the most  d a m a g e
hey guys hope you like this one, its been one of the hardest poems i have had to write simply because its one of the most honest poems i've written in a while. please let me know what your thoughts are, your feedback is always appreciated
**
The Vault Jul 2019
You looked at me as I bought my stuff
Just customer and cashier
But something about you caught me off guard
Maybe it was the way you wore that cross and had no name tag.  
My little stranger who I couldn't help but flirt with
Your deep brown eyes I could fall into
Deep and dark
So mature
I was single and not looking for love.
Scared by it.
But then you asked my name.  
And boy did you deliver when you found me
On social media.  
My little stranger
My little love
Madison Greene Jul 2019
I think I want to disappear for awhile
to sink in to myself and return a stranger to the one’s who think they know me best
I keep searching for another person to define me because I don’t know myself as well as I’d like
and the past can’t be changed, I’ve tried that
but it’s time to start forgiving it
all I know is this longing for change
all I know is this desperation for freedom from the weight of past transgressions
Ahnaf Jun 2019
Fall has crumbled with grace,
and it looks like the end of our chase
for the elusive statuette of love,
and the sparks lovers dream of

No longer do I see the imperfections in your face,
it looks quite shallow I must say,
but only because a stranger sits in its place,
and our world full of details lie in its grave
Karli Z Jun 2019
Always here to almost
There but sometimes
Near and just barely
Alive to cease to exist--

Wait a minute.
Who are you?
Sometimes, you just don't know someone like you used to.
Kalarav Jun 2019
We have the privilege
to romanticise rain.
We talk about the cold breeze,
the soothing sounds
of falling droplets
and the feelings
that are evoked within us.

However, to some others,
rain simply means
a cold sleepless night.
Rain, to them
is like an uninvited guest,
who finds its way through
cracks and holes
and sits uncomfortably close.
A guest who leaves
only when they please.

To some others
rain is like an old friend
who's face they can no longer
remember.
They don't even remember
the last time they met
because it did not seem
like an incident
that was important enough
to commit to memory.
If only they had known
that it was the last time
in a long time...

And the ones who farm
to feed us all
pray for rain
that is just enough.
Not too less or too much.
And when it pours,
the elixir flows
to quench the thirst of doubts
'will there be yield?'
'will my children eat?'
A reassuring yes.

So, the next time
rain runs towards you
and drenches you
with an affectionate hug,
embrace it
and let it be no stranger.
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