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Dahlia May 5
there's something about you
that buries itself in my chest
growing its roots somewhere deep inside
blooming and blossoming
reaching and tangling around my veins
wrapping its vines around my bones
spreading its pollen through my bloodstream with every gentle heartbeat
seeping through my fingers and toes
crawling up my spine and flowering in my thoughts
I carry you everywhere
and as I fall asleep at night,
I think about the way it feels
to have you next to me
I've been friends with you for what feels like forever. I wish I could tell you how I really feel, but I'm scared I'm going to ruin what we have.
lua Jan 30
perspective shifts in all directions
a blur, out of focus from the earth
as spring blossoms in my throat

bloodied petals dried by the sun's rage
would it be my fault if i shielded my eyes?
away from his piercing glare
burning as he rises

ripping vines out of my mouth
tearing through my field of vision
until i close my eyes
and fade to black.
My footsteps were memorizing
the cracks of the floor,
vines creep along the grounds
as the constellations,
they are the patterns to my wonderland.

Gold flush,
rose blush
You are beautiful in my memories
and I unlocked  the box of my dreams,
wounds are deeper than to what I feel
Stitched with the strings I tied to you,
People are vines as they fall in despair.
Words left unsaid
Ray Dunn Dec 2020
be the vines,
exist slowly. cautiously.

crawl up, looking for any
footholds to expand your reach.

exist violently.
tear down the bricks of
the building you conquered

and above all else—

rise to the top of what you hate the most.
not the best flow but a viewpoint i live by
Leila Sep 2020
Cold finger tips
Rush down my arm
Yet fire burns through my veins
Lighting me up
What I feel is not life
Rather a silver lining
Passionate yet sorrow
Filled with a vengeance that cuts deep
My eyes roll back
The kiss of death now comes

A sugary sweet smell
Of a flower
It twists and turns
Sharp vines puncture itself
Yet it flows along
When the wind comes it drifts along with it
But a rock can not understand that
The rock sits and stays
A strong silent type
Obedient in its own will
Not so much stubborn rather unsure
I wrote this when I was 15, it’s what I consider to be my first “good” poem. I hope you enjoy it <3
Amanda Hawk Jul 2020
fresh starts creep like vines
layering the window sill
the day smells like rain
IMCQ Apr 2020
Fiendish wires driven deep into the mind.
Subsisting on the chaos it compels unto others.
Craving lechery and deference.
When resisted the coils tighten.
Its weighted vines make it difficult to stand.
I know what it fears,
We are the same.
The threads are not mine.
If I controlled the them I'd do the same.
We are puppeteers.
I see the treasure he holds, how he abuses it.
Run away.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Beckoning
by Michael R. Burch

Yesterday the wind whispered my name
while the blazing locks
of her rampant mane
lay heavy on mine.
And yesterday
I saw the way
the wind caressed tall pines
in forests laced by glinting streams
and thick with tangled vines.
And though she reached
for me in her sleep,
the touch I felt was Time's.

This is an early poem, written during my youthful Romantic period. I believe I wrote the original poem around age 18, then revised it six years later. Keywords/Tags: Love, freedom, beckoning, lure, allurement, time, wind, pines, streams, vines, hair, mane, locks, travel, departure, parting, separation, loss
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