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I can't even remember six-year-old me.
I don't know if she liked yellow like I do now.
I don't know if she hated spaghetti the way I do.
I don't know if she loved the sky and the clouds and the stars and the moon the way my big self does.

And I always wonder...
What would she think of me?
Are we following the dreams we had at that age?
Are we facing life with the same joy I think we would’ve had at six?
Would she ask me why I like yellow so much if she used to love pink?
What if she loved spaghetti and wanted to eat it every day?
I think maybe she did like the sky like I do.

(What’s not to like?)
soft and tender little poem of me trying to remember the sweet kid I once was
even I am puzzled that this phrase
did not prior
tickle my contronymic
poetic senses till now, for what is tender is of not always legal,
and what is legal is far far from
always tender
<>
tender/tenderness

gotta rank in my 10 top fav
words,
nothing transforms
swifter than an
unexpected kiss,
a hug from behind,
the light stroke of a forefinger,
brushing a tear from cheek,
an errant bang, a lock from vision interference,
All Super Legal
gracefully given,
gratefully given,
Wholly Unexpected,
and
great~fully
Accepted


<>
thinking that this maybe one of my
top 11 fav poems
~>
mmmmmmmmmmm
that's the sound
of me purring...
4;13am
July five
2025
Bloomy ashes Jun 27
HER
i have seen the heaven created in you—  
one they could not understand.  
and so they named it wrong,  
because they could not hold what they feared in their hand.  

you were fire, and i the very same.  
they said we’d burn the world down—  
but all we ever wanted was to be warm.  

her touch: psalm.  
her gaze: prayer.  
and still, they call it sin—  
as if holiness can’t wear soft skin and hold my hand.  

they could not understand  
that when she loves me,  
the sky listens more closely  
and the stars stay a little longer.  

her eyes, gently pulling me in—  
her gaze sweeping me beneath her tides  
as i pry to the surface  
to utter her sacred name.  

and even the breath feels borrowed,  
as if the universe conspired to see it through.  

how can my sin be love?  
oh, they would never understand.
i wish i could listen to my heart and block the world's voice
Spicy Digits Jun 11
When the world
Screams in my ear
You are faulty,
You are worthless
A little paw stretches,
Resting on my chest
And I am reminded
I am her world,
I am lovely.
Sarah May 29
‘Freeze’ brought us to a stop
under a warm spotlight.
I turned to face my partner
and saw these hazel eyes.

Eyes that had felt distant,
dodging my very presence.
Uncertain, I looked at them -
prepared for rejection.

But they wrinkled at the corners
to match an unexpected smile.
Paired with a long sigh -
a ‘phew’ that filled the distance.
Melting away the tension
and inviting my heart to soften.

I found myself engulfed
in these hazel eyes.
Shielded by sharp lashes
as if to protect for a while.
A guard let down
allowed mine to drop into ease.
A wide smile emerged
and claimed my face.

It was pure magic,
to finally feel seen.
But magic is short-lived -
it was soon time to say goodbye.
I crinkled my eyelids,
pushing this moment to a hidden room.
A room only I could visit
when loneliness strikes.
Yavuz Apr 28
In the blink of an eye,
everything that was once purely promising,
was lost to its most formidable and unforgiving foe,
change.

She was once a survivor,
now a compromised victim,
her lifeless body laying on the echoing crosswalk,
leaking into a puddle of artistic passion and time.

Now, sluggish snow crystals fall, singing goodbye,
sheathing carefully a blanket over tender flesh,
while I give in to her frozen embrace,
desiring to linger across timeless ages,
waiting for change to grant me passage into her soul.
Maria Apr 10
They hurt their Love, and she forgave them,
All their fears and their whim.
And threw herself as onto a scaffold
To save them both, and not her or him.

They didn't take care of Love, but could be
More merciful, tender and kind to her.
She gave them happiness and so much charity
Up to the last day, while they were with her.

They killed their Love so bitter and wildly!
They ribbed their Love. They burnt her all,
With all their wishes, dreams and chances,
With their faith in Love in whole!

They forgot their Love. They simply buried
Their tender Love. And she went away,
Without 'Goodbye', remained as a shadow,
Irretrievable, lost, forever, noway...
Thank you very much for reading this ballad! 💖
kn Mar 21
Woke up with a heavy heart,
Loud thoughts pulling me apart.
Longing for love I thought would stay,
But some things quietly drift away.

Still, in the quiet, I learn to grow,
From broken trust, new light can show.
And though the pain may not depart,
I rise again—with a tender heart.
Ross J Porter Mar 12
Small hands clutching tight,
strings of laughter tethered
to floating dreams—
bubbles of wonder.

Sand-filled toes in shoes,
quick feet dancing
through my greatest dreams
of who she will be.

Soft kisses from lips
formed from my own heart,
melting into a
stream to her future.

Sweet songs of her love,
belted with fervor
from within the small,
light-flowered sundress.

Mischievous smiles,
doll-filled hands spinning
games that fill the day
with her glow of joy.

Bright eyes signaling
a future, brilliant
as the twinkle
of stolen stars.

Trusting, complete love,
holding tight to life
as it drifts beyond,
on bubbles of wonder
Adjusted line breaks and reworded some phrases to enhance readability and meaning (e.g., "as the twinkle of stolen stars" instead of "the stars they've stolen").

"as it drifts beyond, on bubbles of wonder" subtly reinforces the bittersweet nature of time passing, without losing the lightness.

"Mischievous" is kept intact for readability, and "light-flowered sundress" smooths out that phrase.
Gideon Mar 8
Love me tender and soft under the black sky and white moon.
Love me soft and kind on days that I need more help than others.
Love me kind and gentle in ways that I may never repay.
Love me gentle and tender because I have not always been loved.
I have been loved harshly before, and it left scars inside and out.
I have been loved roughly before, and the effects of it still surprise me.
I have been loved wildly before, and I thought I was wild too.
I have been loved aggressively, and I took it as a compliment.
Love me tender and soft because truly I have never been loved.
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