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Fingers—
laced in glow spill, dusk-slick.
tiny suns,
trembling—bodies of light,
trapped.

pulse-thrum,
hush-black air—
soft hymns flickering,
pleas pressed to glass,
breath-fogged, burning.

whispered tomorrow—
honey-thick, guilt-laden,
beauty begged to be held.

dawn—
bled dry.
cold palms, hollowed vessel,
absence like ruin.

I lied to the glass.
worse—
I stole their dying light.

& now—
I bear their afterglow
like a wound that refuses to dim.

 23h fizbett
Kaiden
There is a child discovering your path
Running away from the world's anger and wrath
There might be a future awaiting ahead,
But what if one day they end up dead?
<3
Pith clots mid-autumn,
tongue-laced rubies slit the hush,
juice wails—fermented.

Not the butterfly—
never the butterfly.

Only the delirium.
The fever of pursuit.
Wind-lashed laughter,
sun slitting gold across our skin,
hands slicing through hush,
through emerald ghosts.

Wings—silk, smoke,
breath—a ghost kiss,
vanishing.

We ran.
We ran.
Color hemorrhaged between our hands.
The sky swallowed it whole,
left nothing but,
the aftertaste of wanting.

Was it ever the capture?
Or the almost,
the ache of flight just out of reach—
like trying to pocket a mirage,
like teaching the wind to stay.

Years fold.
Silence swallows.
Love like wings,
dreams like dust,
fingers still cupped around air,
as if emptiness could be held.

We chase.
We lose.
We call it living.

 3d fizbett
Emma
the sky spills (softblue laughter)
over tomorrow’s edge—
where dreams flutter
like dandelion seeds
in a breathless breeze

and love (crooked smile)
blooms wild in the cracks
of broken concrete hearts
while shadows (playful)
hide-and-seek with glowing light

oh! how the stars (tiny giggles)
wink down at us,
tangled in a universe
of wonder—

we are (infinite children)
tracing constellations
with fingertips,
painting the night
with whispers of hope—
(isn’t it beautiful?)

to feel the pulse
of existence (sweet ache)
being alive,
even as fears
(bleeding, faint)
linger like needles,
silence trying to change
the rainbow pastels of
pills and apologies—
(too late)

in this (ever-spinning)
kaleidoscope,
mind-control dreams flicker
like dying stars,
reminding us we still (breathe)
hoping hopefully for dawn,
where light breaks
through the bruised edges
of our souls.
Good morning hellopoetry community, wish you all a wonderful week ahead full of strength and courage and healing ❣️
 3d fizbett
Kat M
Carefully placed and covered with love
Patience emerged in hydration
Stretching into the dancing air
Golden warmth radiates across my face
Sinking my roots further into the foundations
Of past experience
Inching further toward the sky
Waiting to blossom into potential
An open story to share again
May the withering be slow to come
Nourishing those surrounding the performance
I can become,

                                                        ­           once again
Feedback Welcome!
She is strong
She pulled herself through strong winds,
Roots gripping the earth, refusing to break.
She survived with little care,
Drinking from the silence,
Holding on when no hands reached out.

She never complained about the thirst,
Welcoming the sun, even when it burned.
She learned to bloom in shadows,
Happy with the little attention she received.

She stayed, even when neglected,
Spreading fresh air to breathe,
A silent companion when no one else was around.
A quiet strength, unseen yet unwavering.

She stopped withering away.
She adapted.
She grew.
She became more than survival—
She became life itself.
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