She rested her head against the windowsill, tracing her fingers along the rigid, empty patches of wood where that white paint used to be. Once up on a time.

The little whisps of hair that lay limply at the back of her neck became startled as the cold from the windowsill carressed her cheek.
Her eyes turned to the night, where the sky nursed the stars. Pockets of light screaming out into the blackness, before fading into the day. As her mind began to drift, She wandered what promise lay behind those diamonds of light. What would she find if she took that blanket of black by the corners and shook it. What would she see.
The girl sat there, her finger still tracing the chipped paint; running after her lingering thoughts. She sat there untill that familair flame grew bright, bleeding night into dawn. Morning came. the dew settled once again.
Fresh from the heavens and as she turned away, her finger stopped. She breathed a sweet sigh. A sigh filled with secrets, covered in beauty. Then she stretched her legs over the side of her bed, the crack from her toes an unapologetic symphony that her feet sang having spent the night bunched up cross legged by the window. Walking across her room to her bedroom door, she reached for the handle, turning it slowly, opening the door to another day.
Another day painted by mercy and given by grace

     © Raffi

The sunrise greets the morning dew,
to paint the sky with a vibrant hue.
The last night has passed and a new days has come,
advertised perfectly by a morning’s sun.
Alarm clock birds hold no button to “snooze,”
nothing left from yesterday, so now nothing left to lose.
Go hesitantly wipe the sleep from your eyes,
and politely greet the oncoming sunrise.

The blissful sunset that once held the night,
sped off within our starry eyes so fast.
The brilliant, blinding, shining light,
tragically drifted off, lost in the past.
It separates the long days from the glorious dreams,
and divides them into hostile, opposing teams.
A sunrise and it’s rays can always carry hope,
that maybe one day it’s possible to move on.
Either surprise fairy tale, or tasteless joke,
maybe my sense of humour is just somewhat wrong.

So remember to always bless a sunrise,
but never, ever more than a sunset.
Both light up the passing, fading skies,
that cover our shaking regret.
At night, we all strive only to peacefully sleep,
to kill the hours before the sun makes horizon’s leap.

JR Falk Apr 10

The stars line the skyline,
and the moon lies beside me.
It's not often the sun and the moon intertwine.
It seems we have finally crossed paths;
You call me your sunrise, and you are my moon.
After countless years we have finally met and while astronomy says it is meant to be brief,
I'm begging for a miracle and for the chance of an eclipse.
And while it could end the world should it last too long,
We'd get what we've been asking for.
To spend every moment of the rest of our lives,
together.

12:50am
04.10.17

I love you incredibly. Forever.
John Benjamin Apr 9

It is not some dusty frame,
            hanging rusty nails;
                        chaotic mess.

            No es amor solo amar, to you,
                      just some language you,
                                can't comprehend.

Distraught, despaired, disheveled,
                a dystopian novel notion,
                                     romanticized.
        
                     There's no need;
you don't need to patronize.

Cold hand upon cold hand;
       lifeless smiles colluding.

                                 And as if you were a Monet sunrise,
my impression of you is that of drunken brush strokes,
                                                        ­                   dull blues,
                                               and angry orange hues,
Left on display within a rotting, wooden frame.

I could spend the rest of my life
climbing a mountain.

A mountain called Love,
or Success, or Satisfaction, or God,
or many other names.

Or I could stop climbing.

I could sit still,
and wait silently for the sun to rise,
to paint the sky with its Love,
joyfully showing me
that I have always been atop the mountain,
and all of the struggles were just imagined.

Dreamt up in a mind too used to suffering, too used to hiding from the truth.

The sun never really goes down.
The day never really ends.
The sun is born without ever dying.
We are born without ever dying.

Written in 2017.
Bethany G. Blicq
ㅡjatm Apr 8

Let her be your reflection,
Your shadow,
Your favorite flower,
Your gentle light;
Lead her further into you,
To the mystery of you.

She wants to be lost in you
In the symphonies
Of your sunrises and sunsets,
She needs to be everything else,
Like how the wind presses against you;
Just let her be a part of you.

(j.a.t.m.)

Your eyes were beyond ordinary understanding,
Colored of earth,
pulling me into the deepest of seas.

I stopped thinking about myself,
drowning in hopes of pleasing you,
but forgot that I needed to breathe.

Focused on your kisses,
blurred out your past,
and felt your whispers against my skin.

You spoke senselessly,
and exhausted me with your words.
I stopped looking into your eyes,
so you wouldn't know that I was breaking.
I wiped away my tears,
as you blamed me for your mistakes.

You were the deepest of oceans,
holding me without escape.
You were my home,
where I could be my most authentic self.

You are no longer my sunrise,
my sunset,
you are nothing but perfect darkness.
You were an illusion,
more beautiful than you ever were.

sunflower Apr 5

this boy, they say,
contained specks of stardust in his eyes.

he has an infinite potential;
just like the sun,
he starts the day with gentle light
and a warmth that no other human
can ever posses.

i often wonder if he ever feels alone,
if he ever feels troubled,
if he ever misses his home.

not once did i see a fraction of sadness
and sorrow
in his sunrise eyes.

i hope he knows
that he can give the world so much
more than he can think of.

i hope the cameras don't take away
the transparency of his innocent heart.

because the light can only shine the brightest when it's dark.
happy birthday, mingyu.

Listen to the morning sounds of a brushed pink sunrise
breeze murmuring softly in burnished fair skies.
What sizzle sounds are made by sun-rays reflecting off a dune
as the breeze sweetly hums a familiar little tune?

Oceanic waves sing as they crash to the shore.
Liquid choirs sing a lullaby, are you who it's for?
Resounding windchimes as the sky is painted blue
this orchestra of daybreak with promise to renew.

What lies ahead, as sun-rays stretch across the sky?
gold and silver breath, that echoes like a sigh
Will the sea sing, if there is no one to hear?
Ah, the rhapsody of daybreak's waking, as I listen here.

I love the ocean! gotta write it if I can't be near it:)
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