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Jasmin Thomas May 2017
I suppose I'll never know the inside of your brain, every crevice and hidden memory.
Never feel your arms pulling me closer on a Sunday morning as birds outside harmonise to the beating of our hearts and low hum of our words.
Never see the smile that was reserved only for me, your eyes filled with fondness.
An admiration that grew slowly like little daisies watered by every tucking of a hair behind your ear, every eyelash pinched gently from your cheek.
It's on me, and only me.
My tendency to drift away for reasons I can't explain.
To leave without a word.
To crash through the paper thin glass of what could be just as it begins to thicken.
I suppose that I'll just never know.
living in the past and fantasies (1:32am)
  Feb 2016 Jasmin Thomas
Justine Muriel
At times
I long for a world that is black and white

Crimson sunsets would no longer make me believe that love is anything but painful

and the oceans would stop summoning for me to come home with their sapphire tides

I could be content with where I reside, for all colors would be the same
and your eyes would stop calling my name

and perhaps, it's because a world filled with grey

is merely and unapologetically mundane.
Jasmin Thomas Feb 2016
I see you in my tea,
Because before you would be here, sipping and smiling with me.
And I see you in the flowers,
Because we'd sit amongst the poppies for hours, speaking  over the breeze.
Oh, I see you in the forest,
Because your eyes, they stole their colour from the trees.
Melancholy memories.
Jasmin Thomas Feb 2016
You are made of honey, sunlight and fire.
Fire that heats me, boiling my insides.
As your honey drizzles, I slowly fade to a simmer.
Your sun shines on me, kissing my skin, leaving freckle like marks of warmth.
Warmth like the mug of coffee I wrap my hands around, inside the black liquid, my reflection smiles at me.
A smile that has been placed on my lips by you.
You are the colours of the sky, as we say our farewell to the ball of light shining upon our world.
And you are the feeling bubbling just at my chest, as I stare at dancing flames, a soft blanket across my legs, light pitter-pattering of rain on my windowsill.
I find my thoughts consumed by your eyes. Brown, gold and green all at once. Like little lakes in a fairy's garden.
Oh, I find myself at home, in you.
Written at 3:30am with sleep and him in mind.
Jasmin Thomas Jan 2016
Wake, eat, sleep.
wake, eat sleep.
A documentation of my current existence.
Emotion has become a foreign word to me,
Replaced with simply nothingness.

No longer is the red which would burn my body,
when I saw him with her, smiling smiles of honey.
Gone is the blue, drowning me in her sadness
when I thought of all the people who have turned their backs on me
decided they were finished with me
those who were supposed to love me unconditionally.

"Goodbye" said I to yellow who would drizzle me in her warmth
when I veiwed the light shining though the trees
as birds sang , voices ringing with her colour.

For now I fly through life on auto-pilot,
never stopping to feel the sun kissing my cheeks so sweetly,
never stopping to feel the wind nipping my nose so harshly,
never stopping to feel.

— The End —