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jcl Mar 2019
Yesterday, I blew a kiss to a flower.
That lonely and yellow one I was tempted to pick.
It was bold, although dainty, for blooming on a cold weather.

I was out with my favorite lemon tea, when it told me it loves the sun.
Each morning, it waited.
It patiently waited for that bright yellow light to touch its skin.
But every morning is a tired and yellow petal falling.

Yesterday, I blew a kiss to a flower.
That same day, the winter ended.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In our next lives, we'll meet at the right time.
Under the blinding yellow sun or even on a moonless night, when I'm on my satin yellow dress or even when everything is plain and dull— at the right time.

And in our next lives, we'll make it right.


j.c.l.
C F Mar 2019
The story goes that Vincent Van Gogh once tried to eat yellow paint because he wanted to feel yellow inside-that yellow was happiness. He drank turpentine and tried to eat some of his paints whilst in Saint-Rémy. But, if you read his letters-he wasn't trying to be yellow inside-he wanted to die.

Yellow, I think, would taste sharp and nutty.

It'd hurt you but,

It'd grab all of your attention at once
and coil round your tongue.
It'd choke you.

Not everyone can appreciate the curse of being undeniably captivating but distasteful for its own overtures.

Yellow is like biting into ruccola or cracking open hard sunflower seeds with your teeth. It stings at first but as soon as it's gone you want to recapture the feeling by trying again and again.

It's never the same.
chitragupta Mar 2019
Her bright red sweater
surrounded by the yellow of the sunflowers
Captured is the heart
it seems - though the lens has failed to focus

The bend took me away.
- Snap!
Ever felt your heart race faster than the shutter of a camera?
Or maybe my camera is defective.
Either one of those.
Jenna Mar 2019
Raging river down below
I should call you my foe

Your murky waters wave hello
Layered with a rancid yellow

Breaking my landing as I fall
Hitting you felt like a cold stone wall

Laying here feeling your needles *****
Staring at you makes me feel sick

Thin icy fingers grasp my throat
I didn't even try to stay afloat
Luzita Pomé Mar 2019
Fingernails clack on
Piano keys, yellow teeth
Sour milk on marble...
Hunter Green Mar 2019
It was New Year’s Eve
And none of it felt like a dream.
I met you just casually,
There was no motive, no awkward intrusion,
It all happened so naturally.
As our day went on,
You happened to never leave my side.
With a mind so utterly confused,
Your presence fulfilled,
For having one share a feeling of mine is something I could’ve never refused.
You were something new in a sea of it,
It’s funny since you brought peace whereas the rest of it brought darkness,
You must be a vessel full of righteousness,
Oh where are you princess,
Are you lost on an island,
Are you in a war of nations
Are you asleep like me?

As we sat together in the dark,
The luminous color giving life to the night,
I had never felt so right.
But what does it all mean?
I mean,
Can you take meaning from a faint seam?
Because I often look too closely at empty occurrences...
But this was different.
Cameron Alix Mar 2019
Dear Mr. Sunshine,
I always paint you pictures–
Large, sweeping canvases
of my ramblings. Often,
my paintbrush is hazy.
Fogged up with the tropical,
heavy-weight air of future-obsession.
Incertitude-crazy.

Mr. Sunshine,
You are quiet humility.
You are imperfect and simultaneously
You are flawless.
Your kindness is the vastness
of the West. Exceeding.
And lawless.

My Sunshine,
You paint my murky canvas
Adoringly
so yellow.
my boyfriend is the sweetest
Erian Rose Mar 2019
in a sea of roses
so brilliant and bright
i'd give you a bouquet
with their petals in  color
from red
to white
to yellow
to blue
and watch the casting shades
beam in your eyes
worth more than an iris
with love deep as a lily
and whenever i'm with you
i see a field of dandelions
because you are worth so much more
then a garden of roses
Gale L Mccoy Mar 2019
busy busy bee
now you like it
now you're running from-
what are you running from?
their standards wallpapered
over your raw skin
why do you wear it?
you've never liked
the color yellow
you know you can't
fly through water
busy busy bee
Lily Mar 2019
I miss you
I miss who you used to be
The genius, gentleman, jokester
The guy I used to write college essays about
Question: who do you want to be like?
My brother

Where did he go?
Where is the light?
The light with gold in its tracks
I want to see the gold
That sleepy gold that made me believe
Believe in so many things
Goals, and dreams, and miracles
The gold that’s called
My Brother

I want to understand
Believe he’s still there
My brother with stars in his eyes
But as you can see I’m still here
With tears of confusion
Mourning the loss
of my brother

I’m here, and I love you
For all you are now
But you see
you aren’t who you once were
The one I bragged about
Smart even when sleeping
With work you were over-leaping
Across any expectations that were made
That is who my brother is

I guess I just want
That boy in yellow
The one from
The happiest times

For now I’ll just be here
With my stuffed octopus
Remembering my brother
That used to be
This is about my brother who just got checked into a mental health hospital and probably has schizophrenia. Just for some reference about what this is about.
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