#nextchapter
it's like walking into a garth,
overwhelmed by the blossoms.
there's nothing better than this
making my heart whole blooms.
yet it's like an autumnal equinox,
there's a time to whither and die.
albeit leaves fall on the ground,
but I bet it'll be remembered.
I feel not blithe nor blue
whilst entering the whole new chapter,
'cause it won't be the same like before.
it makes me to wonder,
how blue will be defined after?
Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 9:06 AM UTC
๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ด ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ช๐ง๐ฆ
๐๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐น๐ฆ๐ด ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ข๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ค
๐๐ข๐ช๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฏ
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 7:30 AM UTC
Warm Summer Day, 2018
Sun on our backs, Wind in my hair
Sweet tea kisses, Sunshine smiles
Ed Sheeran and Slow dances
Twinkling blue eyes, My glimmering brown
What goes around comes back around
Hot Summer Night, 2019
Piercing words, Thorns sticking out
Waterfall tears, Red hot anger
Secrets and lies coming to the light
Your true colors showing as bright as the 4th of July
Cutting you completely out of my life
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 3:31 AM UTC
Whatโs going to happen when time runs out?
Will we beg for life as if there was a drought?
Every year goes quicker and quicker.
Please, please slow down the ticker.
Yes the people of my generation are young.
Yes we have we many years on this world among.
So why do the years feel like theyโre slipping away.
I really just want everyone to stay
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
Sitting
very much alone
on a makeshift bench
out of an old log,
my coffee balanced in
a knot in the wood I've
made into a cup holder,
my feet planted into the
soggy leaf-covered dirt.
I gaze outward onto
the wooden bridge
that aids the passerbyers
of persons and canines to
overstep the pebble-laden
creek.
The air is brisk,
the sun sneaking only
occasional glances at my
solitude
behind a screen of
scattered trees,
tall and thin,
buried in leaves slowly
transitioning from green to
yellow.
I ponder on how
brave everyone has
said I am,
that they could never do
what I'm doing,
like I'm some sort
of war hero.
I laugh slightly to myself,
for, I wonder, how much
moxy does it really take
to sit on an
abandoned stump in the
woods, fighting off
tears of loneliness and
anxiety?
Aren't those who are
brave not so
chock full of doubt,
not clinging to a pen
and a notebook in
hopes of dispelling
waves of woes?
The wind blows by me
once more as if to
reassure me that
my newfound spot of
singularity is exactly
where I am supposed to
be, so I go back to
watching the passerbyers, or,
momentarily,
the lack thereof,
sipping my coffee
and soaking in my new
surroundings.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC