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Lightning my eclipse
He became unlit
for love was a hybrid
of both dusk
and dawn.
©shadeofalonelygirl
I flew were rain descended
gleaming like an iris
waiting for the sunshine to sneak
behind the tenebrous clouds
to endure the sprinkles of nippy water
flowing like a queen in majestic raiment
streaming in routes
delivering pristine rinse to flora
and I penetrate right into it
to dance to the melody of its music!!
©shadeofalonelygirl
Ananya Bansiwal Dec 2018
How is life treating you ?
Oh me ?
I am under the process of expansion.
I am learning to not halt, to not stagnate, to go on and let everything happen.
I agree, these phrases might be sounding different. And you may be thinking, I am well happy in life, I am from a well-doing background or may be you think I haven't seen life as a mess.
It isn't so.
I have too seen many dreams crumbling right in front of my eyes. Just like you, I can't help being nervous in many situations. I have enjoyed good times and endured the tough ones. I have cried many a times and I have given myself a happy everyday.
Falling is not failing, and failing isn't quitting.
You can't always be served with the creaminess of life.
If you wish to view a beautiful sunrise every morning, you've to surely experience the calmness of night.
And tomorrow,
You'll understand why you always went undergoing these situations.
You're just a normal human, but unlike all, carrying different potentials, the commom part is, we feel, we react, we fall, we bleed, we grow, we live.
You can't filter the bad times, you've to carry this life as per your terms, just gathering knowledge and letting good vibes outshine.
Happy Day ✨
NoahArkenswagg Dec 2018
You shot me with bullets that weighed me down, from your lofty position above that wall, you look me in the eyes and take a shot for each stone I reach for in my climb. Leaving me in the friend zone was unfair enough, but these bullets weigh more than their equivalent in rejection...but there you go again, aiming for another shot of "he's just a friend. " noah_arkenswagg
Lemonade Dec 2018
Don't worry, I won't tell her about you.
Don't worry, her first word will always be "Mama".

Don't worry, I won't tell her about your deep love for strawberry milkshakes.
Though, she refuses to have milk in everything but strawberry shakes.

Don't worry, I won't bother telling her how good you were at volleyball,
I would tell her its a good sport to play.

Don't worry, I won't bother telling her science fictions are great,
I ask her to just give any of them from the shelf, a read.

Don't worry, I won't bother telling her that she can't bunk classes.
Because she is allowed to but, also read her textbooks later.
Though, she doesn't know how pridefully your attendance used to drop, then.

Don't worry, I won't bother not going to movies with her and yeah, she can choose them,
alternatively.

Don't worry,  I won't bother her to grow up.
She can always have brownies and chocolate ice cream in the middle of the night.
Though, she doesn't know how you used to be lectured for doing the same.

Don't worry, I won't bother asking her to learn singing,
she loves  Jazz dancing.
Though you never stopped moving your feet, to those Irish beats.

Don't worry, I won't bother saying how blowing bubbles and balloons were your favorite pass time.
It's her 16th birthday and all she wants is the party hall to be crowded with red and white balloons.

Don't worry, I won't bother telling her that black is the color.
I tell her that she can always wear black to dates and sometimes, they work out really well.

Don't worry, I won't bother asking her to give me a call
every once in a while.
Because she loves writing letters and mailing them to me.
Little does she know, about your handwritten notes that still hold a place in my diary.

Don't worry, I won't question her choices.
But, will for sure forbid her from falling for a man like you,  
who will soon fall for someone new.

Oh did I forget to tell you, she writes too.
It is a letter from a single mother to her ex-man.
Yani Dec 2018
There's this itch I feel
but haven't figured it out yet;
is this a drive to speak for the unspeakable,
or an urge to spill words like blood from a wound?

There's this itch I feel
but haven't figured it out yet;
is this a trigger for a wreck that is to come,
or a spark of idea from a wicked mind I can't own?

There's this itch I feel
but haven't figured it out yet;
I can't scratch it like a card, gambling for a prize,
nor can I treat it with alcohol, poured on rashes or drank in a rush.

There's this itch I feel
but haven't figured it out yet;
it clouds my visionless eyes, naked or on lenses
it agitates my trembling hands, I can't smunpew.
Ron Gavalik Dec 2018
The writer’s job
is to build the words,
not perform for applause
or join cheap cliques.
The printed word, baby,
that’s the nervous anticipation
for the 300 pound *****
who ***** the best ****.
Words are the hit of whiskey
after the sun drops
below the buildings.

-Ron Gavalik
Hit my Patreon and seek TRUTH. Patreon.com/RonGavalik
MawaLin Dec 2018
There are parts of me that I am still learning to accept.
It's in the roots of my hair,
Embedded under my skin,
It darkness my knees,
On the bridge of my nose,
Rolls off my tongue
To the alignment of my toes.
And as I grow, they too grow with me.
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