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Anastasia Jul 2019
Steam and humidity
Fogs up the mirror
The musky scent of my shampoo fills the room
Waterdrops beat against my head
Sound softened by my scented hair
Music plays from across the room
Water skids down my flesh
I sit and think
About you
And wash away
Bad memories
I scrub
My skin
Until the hot water burns
Hm.
david mitchell Jul 2019
upon becoming a nestling sans nest,
i decided to make a half-baked plan of mandates,
stating how i ought to quest, trough to crest.
egesting the presently unpleasant facets,
i adopted a policy of empirical puerilism.
now a newly groovy pluvi-dendrophile philomath,
a counterbalanced feng shui caricature,
promptly finding rapture bereft of culture.
plundering the dysfunctional,
worshiping the digressive.
anything is adjustable,
everything can be lovable.
finding bravery in regret,
forever simply vincible.
basking in the ebullience,
bringing passion with my presence.
learning to rhapsodize my sentience,
projecting admittedly confusing ontologisms,
concerned with not much else than pleasance.
my means of conception have become my heaven,
and with no evidence of the clandestine,
i simply stepped in.
strategically puerile, forever.
San-Pei Lee Jul 2019
The word "love" (愛) written in my mother language
Contains the word "heart"
As does the word I use to tell you I "miss" you

A character that can also mean "think" or "want"
Because when it comes to you
My heart does the thinking
And all of my body
Wherever my heart's blood touches
Yearns for your love
Adrienne Jul 2019
I would sing
because I'm good at that
boy, do I have pipes.
but I'm terrified
upon this stage
all of you looking at me
expectantly
Part of me thinks it would be fun
if not for my parents in the audience
looking at me expectantly.
I've never felt at ease
doing it for them.
That open mic keeps standing there
posters, stages, coffee shops
everywhere
but I can't.
I'll try anything but this.

I sometimes feel
as if my parents wish I would perform
like when we watch
'School Of Rock' or 'A Perfect Chord'.

I guess I always thought
it would go away when I got older
but it's MY choice.
I have to decide.
will I lift my voice
or stay stubbornly silent?
bk Jul 2019
It is the truth, my darling,
that whoever who think of
when you look at the ocean
is who you love.
c Jun 2019
I am addicted to deja vu
In the form of
Sunsets
And goodbyes
And thinking I’ve found love

And hey, you seem so familiar.
Have I seen you somewhere before?
LN Jun 2019
things can be different
from different point of views.
the same sceneries can be dull
or they can be filled with hues.

the flickering flame can burn
or the flame can be warm.
the water can quench thirst
or the water can bring storm.

we don't have to think alike,
we don't have to be the same.
for some people my words could mean
and for some they could be lame.
I see a world where everyone bleed feelings into everything they do
you might see it as a labyrinth  of forgotten people.


if we are not different then, who are we?
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