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Wellspring Aug 4
I find that our language
Is nothing but screams.
Screams that trigger a deep urge,
Somewhere inside us,
To scream back.
And so our speech becomes
A twisted language of pain,
Understood only by those
Who bear the agonising weight of life.
I actually included lines similar to these in a personification essay that I did. 'Twas fun to write.
How many times do I
have to remind myself:
"You have to let it go
so that your heart doesn't break
and your soul doesn't ache.
If it was right it would stay"

But all I urge to do is
grab your collar
and shout at my loudest volume:
"Can you give up on breathing
and still hope to live? "
“You know what hurts? The fact that you don’t want me the same way I want you. You don’t mind talking to me, but you don’t have the urge and want to talk to me anymore. You don’t mind having a conversation if I message, but you will never want to message. What hurts is that I can see it happening, subtly and gradually. I can see you losing interest in me. I can see those eyes wandering in search of someone else when once they were focused on me. I can feel the distance, I can see you fading.”

- Excerpt from an open letter
She's a stranger, the most beautiful stranger.

As we move nearer, I feel her tug at my heart.
I feel an abundance of affection, injecting through my veins.

I am greeted with the urge to love.

She tightens her grip, her hand is on my heart.
Her hand is golden, pure gold.
What I see is more than I ever wanted; someone who truly loves me.

I am greeted with the urge to love.

But. Her hand starts to flake, it's only gold plated.
Her grip and her tug starts to pain.
She's not who her image promised to be.

She's a danger, the most beautiful danger.
Alexis Jun 9
i need to
write
or these words
will
pile
up
like my # of sins
and


bury me.
I always have this urge of losing myself 
And I keep on thinking what would happen if all my thoughts were put on a backyard sale 
Will someone buy it? 
Or just ignore such devastated and ruined thoughts. 

It's too late to be forever together 
My thoughts speak evil about your existence 
Those little demons under my bed are terrified 
They don't want you around me anymore. 

Let me loose for a while hear the birds singing 
Lay on the grass let the sun burn my face in the morning hour gold rush, try to understand this complex words i wrote for a devil.
poets,
come to me,
let's reach the purity of divine,
your spirit to bloom for eternal joy and wisdom,
come catch my hand,
let's fly beyond the earthly veils of time.
adorating Jan 22
I remember you
the smile, the laughter,
the tears, the sadness,
the thoughts, the stories,
I remember you

I remember us
skin drenched in sweats,
the white sheets of
my bed or yours,
us,
groaning, moaning,
longing, yearning,
darling,
I remember

I remember me
who once was just
someone with a
monotonous, dreary,
humdrum life
before you
happened,
love,
I remember

I remember everything
the sunflower that you gave me,
unlike any other man,
with their roses
or glorious necklace
a sunflower, it was,
darling,
as if you were
giving me sign,
I remember

I remember everything,
the door, it was made of wood
the ****, the classic
and old silver ****
the sound of how
it was being pulled
by your hand
Saturday night, it was, darling
you left me
you left me there
you left me there
alone
Easterly Dec 2018
O rich Heaven! The owner of earths! You already own the infinity!
Diamonds in the size of the mount Olympus, even vast,
Torches numberless, thousand times bigger than the phoebus,
Every departed soul from the past twinkles already on your lap large,
Seas without shores and the biggest of all ball floors,
Legends with roots so dense even light cannot probe, what's one more?
Of all combinations between the south and the north
O greedy Heaven! You lust for my love!

Don't rob this poor with such rich hands, I pray to you,
Even if I refrain others will rave and stain.
O don't pluck the apples of my eyes. Shame!
Had I been a beggar that blindness would have given me fame!
But living under your roof doesn't allow me to beg,
So, my sole request- let my loves throb in my rustic chest.
Irina BBota Sep 2018
Reach out your hand, take me into your palms
for one second or a minute of the leaking time,
listen to the rhythm of my heart from reckless Brahms
losing me in the labyrinth that touches me with its eye.

Open my heart's buttons to see its full nakedness,
loving me as if tomorrow morning you would lose the bets,
give him a spark, for his passion to reanimate, making us
forget about you, about me, about all our regrets.

Take me into that chamber bathing in the nuances of fire,
take the body that now is incapable of self-control,
let the music in the background comfort my hearing and inspire,
waiting until the ice melts in my heart and my soul.

Love me with a body that no longer thinks of anything new
bearing the mark of an acute and fine sensuality of a dove,
enveloped by the appetizing flavour that worries you
in this ritual of the pantomime from the game of love.

Dare me with your fingers that traces on my shoulders
lines that for a few moments are burning me, consuming me
with the intensity of the eye that fixes me, it marks me,
making me lose the last morsel of my mind, foolishly.

I would not resist your spontaneous urge to touch my bust
with your penetrating glance or emotions, awakening, letting me be,
with a burning temptation that's not extinguishing that crazy lust,
nor under the breath of night that would sneak in unconsciously.
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