Emily 7d
Hey Star Child, are you listening? Do you know?
There is a woman who is seated at the edge of existence;
She sits at the blush of all creation
And in her deft hands, the fabric of time and upon it, she will sew
She will sew ever so lonely, the joyful memories of those of space
Such thankless work

Her skin is as dark as the unknowable void and her eyes as bright as celestial sparks
She wades her long, thick legs in the primordial ooze
From which all life grasped onto her endless scroll of the fabric of time which she marks
With all the spectrum of human knowledge and human emotion: humanity itself.
But for her deft craft; it is thankless work

And she has name; a name of decency and order
Cosima of the Cosmos: divine being of all with tranquil auras upon her lips
Her soul is that of chaos and order; blooming with gentle petals that did corder
The interconnectedness of the realms and worlds at her fingertips
With deft fingers, she sews and she sews and she sews
Unaware time has passed at all; her endless chore without beginning where she goes

Without end, without thanks
Cosima sews. That is the true nature of her celestial,
Of her ethereal
Duty to us, the children of the stars whom she is unaware of; hark
Tis us who are unaware of her
She who sits, sewing, at the gorgeous turmoil of the beginning and end of the universe
That she has crafted, blissfully unaware of her how fingers bleed for us
She sits, sewing, and crafting the fabric of time rolled out infinitely upon our Earth

Oh Cosima, oh darling Cosima of the Cosmos, do you know?
Are you listening to I?
I who wish to bid you praise for your stellar talents
I who cry out in the astral abyss; completely separated from you by space and time
I who cry out in a weak, perishing voice
I who wishes to acknowledge your tireless, endless work

The work Cosmia, oh Cosima my darling, who creates all the pleasures and misfortunes
Of the human experience we write, we sew, we who praise all your efforts
Unknowingly so
To which is met with more bitter, ignorant bliss
For you, Cosima of the Cosmos, do not realise you are not alone
You do not realise that your astral fingertips is more lives than you will ever know
How horrible it is, such thankless, beautiful work
Imbued with loneliness you will never fathom
For such loneliness is all you’ve ever known

The ordered universe: symmetry and entropy
Petals of magenta, unfurl and it does greet
The morning sun in joy and the evening moon in farewell,
A name by any other just as sweet
Cosmo, the one with the name of peace and order, Cosmo
The flower we have signified to mean such pleasantries
In the feminine name of the motherly woman who sits at the edge of nothingness
And all
We did name such a pretty petal pink
But does she know?
But do you know?

Hey Star Child, did you listen? Do you now know?
Hey Star Child, will you be the one to let her know?
Will you be the one to thank Cosima of the Cosmos?
Emily Feb 14
With a name like Ruth
You know she’s a babe
Kickstart her heart
And she’ll tear you apart

Old in spirit
Young in body
Dirty and dusty
A compact, unclean model

Buzz-box motor
Straight down a highway
She’s got sixty horse power
She’s bucking bronco wild

Guzzling gasoline
Rocks out to old school rock’n’roll
She’s a Saturday night special
With a hippie tramp stamp

Jealousy rips up the road
And now I’m in a rage
But it ain’t her fault
I’m just materialistic

Miniature but mighty,
I don’t take her lightly
And I don’t know if it’s likely,
But I want that Ruthie to be mine
Emily Feb 8
You were drunk
I was sober
The night was nearly over
When you pulled me closer
My heart had sunk

I was tired
You were wired
With feelings you didn’t understand
You were living a dream
I was living a nightmare
I glanced at my phone
And it was nearly two-thirty

You look in my eyes
I looked at your lips
I could smell the scent of your lipstick
Bright, vivid, scarlet
In the full colouring of your lips, I could sense your glory
In the absence of my own
Upon your lips, I could almost kiss you

Your eyes were ever so blue
But ever so out of focus
You were drunk
I was sober
But you got me intoxicated just by whispering sweet nothings
Into my ears upon a head so heavy with loneliness and doubt
Your words were like the cruisers you had been drinking

I don’t understand how you can see such goodness in me
When my own faith has left me
Abandoned by a growing cynicism
Broken and torn down by myself
At the instructions of others

Your fingers brush the side of my head
A curl of my hair falls out of place so you push it back
You smile
You laugh
I smile
I swoon
Emily Feb 8
I caught her eye
Through her heart-shaped Gucci sunglasses
Cherry red lips
And just as sweet-smelling,
She smiled

With scarlet nails,
Upon a slender and soft hand
She beckoned me
I was nervous
She was gorgeous

One hand on a wiry steering wheel
Belonging to a pastel coloured Chevrolet
I leaned in through the lowered window
She smiled
Her other hand carded through
A magenta mop of messy hair
She laughed

She was a woman
Wet and wild
With a mischievous smile
And a lilt in her voice,
She asked me for my name and number
I gave her a lot more than that

The ocean’s roar
Against a dodgy seaside town
She took me for a ride
And what a ride it was
Seeing the sights
Rolling on a road
Through places neither of us know
The engine purrs
And so, does she
As she laces one arm across my shoulders
From the driver’s seat
My heart skips a beat

We holed up in a motel
She had bought the room
Days ago
With her Daddy’s credit card
Her Chevrolet parked out front
Our room
Her room
Amid plasticky ferns
And stinking asphalt
Under a hazy summer cloud

Vintage dresses in her closet
Perfume bottles
Glistening on her drawers
Elegant scents
In an inelegant room
Out the window
Encased in nautical décor
I could glimpse the sea and sand
I ran my fingers
On the edge of her bedside table
She ran her fingers
Along the edge of my spine

The bed bounced
Beneath our weight
Touching, whispering
Clothes on the floor
I couldn’t have wanted more
For she was
All for me
A first like none other

She was gorgeous
A dreamy goddess
I did see go
In a pastel pink Chevrolet
Wearing Gucci glasses
And an impish smile
On cherry cola flavoured lips
Above eyes
Which were bright
Like swirling, burning stars
A vivacious light
To count my blessings
And amorous bruising by
Not based on a true story, unfortunately.
Blake Jan 10
She was sleeping by her windowsill.
White petals, given to her by her lover.
They were crisp and sweet, yet still the snow lay under her cover.
The blankets were heavy, but still she wrapped herself, trying to stay warm.
The window was stuck open.
The wind was howling, just like the day she left.
Ever since the love has passed, she felt contempt.
She shivered, tears fell.
Her lover’s skin turned pale as her dahlias.
And as she watched as the petals fell,
Oh how she missed her girl’s lips as well.
Amber C Dec 2017
it’s a dream, too good to be true; i comb her hair with my fingers
i bid my eyes to stay shut and in my ear i hear nothing but her whispers
confused but content, i sigh into her bare shoulder
and find myself carried away into the deepest kind of slumber

she is here—my love—and her love borders on tangible
the dips and bumps of her body under my fingers: palpable
she pushes but she doesn’t shove, she pulls but she isn’t careless
yet her gaze and her words, they are everything but selfless

i count the stars til i run out, then i trace with a finger the freckles on her face
in her sleep—not mine, i checked—she is nothing but softness and grace
her heartbeat against mine might be too good to be true
but this is not a dream and my reality is, "you"
Riot Dec 2017
Her laugh made flowers bloom,
popping out of the soil and making my heart grow enough
to where my doctor told me I had a preexisting condition of loving you.

He couldn’t fix me, so he took me to a mechanic to see if I was broken,
If too many screws got loose,
If maybe my problems were caused by me afraid to lose you,
So he twisted me apart, unscrewed me part by part,
But the only thing he found were rusted windshield wipers and hydrangeas on my dashboard.
I told him every time it rained,
I opened my sunroof and let cold drops hit me through my hoodie,
Every time I saw that flower,
I’d take it petal by petal and spread it across the dashboard
so you could always be with me, no matter how far I go.
It's tiring being like this
Cat J Noyce Nov 2017
It was raining when we first touched;
The sweet innocence of tipsy impulse.
Nothing too close, too real, not to me.

It was dark as we shared our burdens and fears;
Whispered words stumbling out in desperate breaths.
Certainty found in uncertainties.

It was the first snow of the year that I saw falling as I lay in your arms;
The gentle drift of gravity.
Now it's all too close, all too real. To me.
Dani Oct 2017
She was night when I met her.

The hills beyond bathed in moonlight,
though she seemed to hide from faint starshine
sheltered and hidden: wrapped in a mystery cloak
woven from fibrous shadows and dyed
in the deepest part of the ocean with midnight hues
untouched by the constellations.

She was summer aurora soon after her night.

I took her hand into the dewy field,
we reveled in the damp and softened earth
and the stars blossomed: points of bursting light
fixed among the twilit blue-greens
like the blinking bulbs of fireflies
who floated between our heads.

She was daybreak after her sky turned aquamarine.

The stars hid themselves under our feet,
the sun appeared on our horizon
and painted our faces in pinks and oranges: her hand
so soft and gentle, slipped from mine
trailing warmth against the flesh of my palm
where her fingertips kissed my skin.

She was high morning when the sky’s pinks faded.

I cradled her face between my two hands,
pressed kindnesses into her cheeks
and turned our noses to the sunshine: her celestial smile
played notes on her lips,
singing lilting aria in a rising melody
as the light radiated warmth across her face.

But now she is a rainbow in refracted afternoon.

She gleams in every color now her cloak is shed,
red in heart, orange in grin, yellow in mind,
green in energy, blue in veins, violet in spirit: but most of all
she is soft pink, pale white, and baby blue,
a harmony of hues
which she had kept hidden under her cloak of night.
Kit Brewer Oct 2017
It doesn't have to be complicated,
just come here and relax on me
Don't knock it 'till you've tried it.
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