Jul 13 soliana
Madolyn
I’m a little addicted
to your hand in mine
my body leaning against yours
and the soft smile you have
while staring into my eyes

I’m a little addicted
to being close to you
the sweet smell of your perfume
and the way you nudge me
when you want attention

I’m a little addicted
to holding you in my arms
your body so close to mine
and tracing words on your skin
i love you so much

I’m a little addicted
to you
maybe i’m more than a little addicted
  Jul 12 soliana
Lily
She was allergic
To pollen, but she jumped in
Flowers anyways.

She was terrified
Of thunderstorms, yet she was
A storm of her own.

She said she didn't
Know how to love, yet she loved
Him to perfection.
  Jul 12 soliana
devante moore
I’ve never received a flower
Or even a rose
But I’m a guy
So it’s acceptable I suppose
No kisses
Or sweets
No treats
That signifies ones feelings for me
No token of ones love
But I have gotten
Disappointment
Watered with hate
Planted in betrayal
Fertilized with lies
And maintained by fakes
Roses are Red
But my roses are dead
And crumble beneath my feet
  Jul 11 soliana
Jack
I want to write but I don’t know what about,
“Write about her” my head will shout,
But it’s not fair to you,
It’s not your fault I feel so blue,
All I can think is “I love you” and that’s how I know it’s true.

I want to write about the flowers and trees,
And the sun kissed scenes
That I see in front of my grey face,
I want to find a place
That I can crawl into for a safety base.

I want to write about the state of the world,
Where everyone who is sad or lonely is hurled
To the back of everyone’s head,
And they have the audacity to have said,
“How can someone yearn for the silence of being dead?”

I want to write but I’m in a place that reminds me only of sorrow
Taking these random pills ignoring the knowledge that this will only borrow
The happiness that I was meant to feel tomorrow.

And so I’ll write about how I will always feel like this,
Just a ghost everyone can see,
An empty shadow that takes the form of me.
  Jul 11 soliana
She Writes
There is too much regret
In unspoken words
The quiet thoughts
Whispered only to the moon

There is too much longing
In wishful thinking
Daydreams
Can quickly become a nightmare

There are too many tears
Spilled onto pillows
Over suffering and longing
From words unsaid
  Jul 9 soliana
ethan gaskill
i want a big house
because big houses are silent
and big houses
have plenty of space
for us inside of them
the silence is like
the pages filled with white
in our future;
that exponentially outnumber
the filled pages of our past.
but back to the original point:
i want a big house
because big houses are silent
and silence is the canvas
on which we can write
our own background music to life
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