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Leah Oct 2019
Give me your sunsets
                                         my love
and I will paint every one of them.
Bring me your faith
and I will  m o v e  
                                     t             /\
             /\                n    a.      /    \
           /    \           u           i  /        \
         /        \     o                  n          \        
       /              m                         s        \
                                                      for you.
Share with me your darkness;
and I will leave the lights on.
Tell me about your dreams
and I will grant your every wish.
Bring me your sorrow,
                                        your pain,
and I will hold your hand through it.

Share with me your forever,
and I will promise to love you
even
longer.
I love you.
Hannah Jo Feb 2019
When they say my name I hope you hear waterfalls; my face flooding your entire brain. When you hear my name I hope you think of glass breaking and you picture my hands, scratched and bleeding, putting it all back together again. When you say my name, I hope you hear laughter. I hope you see smiles. And despite all my countless flaws, I hope you think of me when you want someone to stay awhile. When they say my name I hope it reminds you of breaking and healing all in one breath. When you think of me I hope you feel warm. I hope I’m someone you never regret.
For someone who will always have my heart even though I had to move on.
Colten Sorrells Jan 2019
spark*
t h e
f
l
a
m
e

and

i                                      
n                              
h                      
a            
l      
e
the essence

e   x   p   e   l

a l l    t o x i n s
a n d   t h a t   w h i c h
n o   l o n g e r
s e r v e s   y o u
Tyler Smiley Sep 2018
tangerine and pink flying through your eyes.
Sending flames to not only the sky,
but my heart as well.
They engulf my soul.
Keeping me warm through the night
when the colors have faded to nothing but smoke.
Skin wrapped up in the magic of your fingertips,
the wild flower you tucked behind my ear
blown free in a spiral towards the blistering clouds.
I ran and ran to the edge of the field, grass tickling my toes.
Only to feel the warmth on my back and realize it’s time again.
There will be a million wildflowers, but only one golden hour.
I wouldn’t want to miss it.
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
Colds winds kiss the leaves
Dreams are gold beneath the moon
Green tea cleans my soul
Today was a long day.
Lyn ***
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
Flowers sways happy
The cool winds gives gentle kiss
Water flows grateful

Let my flames burn bright
Let my wealth flow steadily
Let my mind have peace

The grass can now breathe
They can drink from life's essence
and rise again strong
Enjoying every **** second of the cool wind! :)
Lyn ***
Hannah Zedaker Jan 2018
Infatuation is transparent red.
It sounds like the quickened pace of a fox in the forest
It tastes like metallic blood pumping in the back of your throat
It smells like three week old lilacs
Infatuation feels like burrs stuck in the sleeves of your tattered wool sweater.
Hannah Zedaker Nov 2017
Paranoia is electric green.
It sounds like the small hum of a 1976 refrigerator.
It tastes like somebody left a hair in your sandwich.
It smells like aged copper, dangling around your neck.
Paranoia feels like pins and needles right after standing up.
NeroameeAlucard Dec 2016
We are wolves
We hunt as one.
We howl as one, at the moon so bright.
We die as one, cold and ****** on the frozen forest floor.

There is no confusion amongst our ranks,
We all must hunt to survive, **** or be killed or be shot by the humans, as the vultures eat us as our bodies stank.

There is no fear, only purpose
There is hunger but there is also satisfaction
There is no pain that can't be overcome
There is no battle that cannot be won.

There is no affection, only cold calculation.
There is no heart, only pure grit and determination.
There is no cowardice, only destruction
NeroameeAlucard Jul 2016
In this black and white world
It's uncommon for there to be any vibrance or color
The Crow begins to take flight again
Looking for something to feed on, my friends

The feathers falling into the snow, bloodstained and white, like a pomegranate was cut open, or the Crow has found its meal for tonight

What's it's meal you ask? My mind
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