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Afia Sep 2018
I'm sorry
If I woke you up last night
My pen told me secrets in whispers
And I carved scars and tales
Of silly incantations and
old fallen trees
Of silver days in summer breeze
and tattered amber sundresses
Of apple bites and ripe grapes
near the broken glass on the carpet; they decayed
Ashes danced on my lips; sculpting poems on my skin
and flicking cigarette on my wounds
Smudged mascara and dulcet memories
Leather fabricated journals of vintage times
hiding crisp carcasses of yellow daises
Euphonious chortles and
early morning smiles
Forgotten tea leaves in the teapot
and ginger bread turning cold
Sun rays, like gold dust, sparkling in the air
Through the tall trees of a forest
hanging on the clouds in despair
First day of Spring, magical it is
like a caterpillar's fate
Silky cocoon, shiny chrysalis,
emerging out as a butterfly
Leaving as old and embracing the new
Igniting the sky over my purple roof
Shadow Dragon Aug 2018
The vintage doll in the window
staring into thin air.
Fake tears in a pipet
drip down her face.
Born into original sin
and the urge for it to wash away.
Slow soapy circles
on the porcelain skin.

A made up story
to clear the sky
that otherwise
drip
drip
drip
down water
watering her eyes.
Afia Jul 2018
A shaft from the golden sun,
reclined peacefully in my lap.
The amber gleam reflected back,
and gently baked the solemn land.
An ardent whisper furnished the woods
with a viridescent scent that woke up the woods.
Silver songs of sleek streams,
chased the lullabies away;
gently.
Ancient tress cuddled the wind,
their leaves clapped in sheer bliss
The broken winged white eyed bulbul,
warbled hymns to lift the curse.
Scarlet tainted vintage letters resting in the rustic mailbox,
await your tender touch; while they chant for a past long gone.
But lily livered clouds,
they have turned your courage into a yellow illusion.
So now defy the toxic words and the errors you made,
A different person inside your skin, long ago, burned our hearts on the hateful flames.
I look for answers in Nature.
trf May 2018
I'm wide open,
Standing stark at your front door,
Like a covered peep hole,
I'm not welcome anymore.

I'm wide open,
Your shadow frame cracks the floor,
But it's drifting away from me,
Scaling back the dinosaur.

Now I'm closed,
Alone in a clothing line,
Thrift stores we used to find,
Our vintage passing for time.

Do you suppose,
Roses are thorny vines,
Grapes don't smell like wine,
You were never the nurturing kind.
adriana Apr 2018
bodies in black in white
eyes in technicolor
we were picture perfect
but everything good fades
in time because
the vivid fades away
and vintage is simply
old and worn and used
Scarlet M Dec 2017
I play his goodbyes
like a classic
broken vinyl,
too many spoken
farewell's
to even fix;
the endmost
pain
i'll ever need,
his
last word
i'll ever hear.
Katelyn Billat Nov 2017
I have this dream
In my mind,
That I will leave
This town with the one.

We will head west,
We will stop everywhere
And anywhere.
Take our time.

Live.

We will spend hours
In endless flower beds
In mossy forests
In crystal clear waters

We will drive and
Listen to every type
Of song,
New and known.

Yes, there will be arguments.
Nothing is perfection,
But I believe we will come close.

As the wind rushes
through our hair
We will be free,
And full of forgiveness.

We will visit new towns,
Make legendary memories.
Watch the lights of skyscrapers
As one by one, they go out.

Visit vintage diners
On the side of the road,
Learn everything
about each other.

For wanderlust has filled me,
And I dream
That we will be nomads
One day.
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