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Sorcier d'argent Aug 2019
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To the ever-lustrous Starlet—

Should I miss the fireworks,
Would you then save me a dance?
For when the stars would align,
for the afterlight,

and one just bow in the starlight?


And its captivating constellation.

Should hope flee and wane:
When the sparkles pass over
and stars reflected no longer
by the shore, in the afterlight,

Would you return my bargained sight?


Where falls your shimmering stardust?

Should we see a downpour by the starlight
and be drenched agleam under the moonlight,
Should I miss the excitement cascading
and the silken-moon cast in your eyes,

Will you tell me and speak of the light?


Upon my crown; by the eventide? If at all—

A glimpse, of that one look ever-bright;
(A tint of honesty, on those rosy cheeks;)

for when I love you so.
(for when you love me so.)


If your waltz would let the heavens rest undazzled.
.
I wonder when we’ll meet again. I really am missing your sweet company.
Ismail Nasution Oct 2017
Stars
Are getting blurry
At dusk and so are
Eyes

Meanwhile
The body is
Getting weary
Barely can wake up
The moon

The night is dark
And lonely
Even fireflies
Don't shine on me
Afterlight, sixish.
mark john junor Nov 2014
there in your midnight afterlight
there in the stillness of your nearness
you softly took my hand and shook loose yesterdays dream
you found me in every way left me without a word to say
timeless in your rose printed dress endlessly you kissed me
gently take me back where you discovered me
there leave me without all these tears of loosing you
there in your midnight afterlight
in the stillness of your nearness
without all this beautiful sadness
Manas Apr 2014
On his deathbed he smirked,
Knowing he would leave behind
His sins with the rest of his mess
Death, after all,
was just eternal blackness.
Just as he took his last breath,
He stood there gloating
Proud of everything he'd done wrong
Till the smile vanished from his face,
As the lights came on.
the distant eaves
irritate the groundline;
which becomes a hilly horizon
in twilight

A glance of warm colors:
is it the glory of dawn
or an afterlight?

Who knows, and no real difference;
the moonbeam will eventually
bring peace, along with loneliness
to drifting lives.

The mother tongue has reduces to silence
and the hometown as remote as paradise.
I am here, hair in wind
tells the destination of clouds.

I believe in freedom, in any variety;
as many as the ways of being nothing,
tenderly.
mvssbecvming Sep 2014
I've been collecting shades of life and it seems all I really have is a gradient scale of tired eyes and restless hands. This is the reality of it all and to be honest I just wanted my name to roll like thunder in your dreams. I lost my will to hold my own against the tide and that's when it all began. Typical girl, I always looked at you like you put stars in the sky but, it's broad daylight and baby, you've never touched a star. And you sicken me with your bedroom philosophy as if you were ever a scholar on church steps. And I'm one shade too tired to pretend this doesn't ruin me. So pack up and leave me. And I'll say hello to this clusterfuck of things thy never made me feel so good.
Words.
Cuz it's not about being sad all the time. It's about knowing emotional exhaustion like the well versed, back of your hand. Resistance is drowning every time you close your eyes and still knowing deep down, The Show Must Go On. Now I'm just lying here inhaling oceans and you still think it's a good idea to talk about the sunset from her window. And the only thing that shouts out at me from all of this is how everything seems so ****** and so small to me frequently. So I throw up my good intentions and all the reasons I thought this could be a vigil to a time I felt wanted and I laugh cuz Cupid just won't stop shooting me with these dull arrows. I mean, have I not been here before? This silence I hear when I'm alone; Am I really surprised by the way it holds me? And have I not bought real estate with the familiarity of it all? Don't dwell on it, though. If anything just remember, this is not bitter failure, this is the recovery.
This is learning and such is life.
"clusterfuck of things that never made me feel so good"
BianchiBlue Aug 2014
anticipation, shone in vivid blue
mid-morning skies, foreshadowing
this ardent afterlight, released
a hush of starlit wonder
Dylan Jul 2023
Magenta gown - flares in the stream of a August breeze.
Petals aflow in the grove
that looms on the edge of the seas.
Sweet oleander and the starshine of unease.

Nerium spawn - wade in the flames of afterlight.
Leaves aflow in the grove
where bewitching toxins invite
sweet Pythia and the citadel of night.

Still wandering upon pathways of doom
where the laurel of madness is first to bloom.

Magenta gown - stills in the dark of a dawning sun.
Stamens aflow in the grove
as the shadows of memory are overrun.
Sweet island, the sacred threads are undone.

— The End —