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LWZ Jan 24
Her spirit shines of skittles
The flavors you taste on a tropical island
Her soul is made of the first blanket of snow
Cold, but gleams so delightfully in the sunlight

When I look at her this is what I see
Something that I could never be
She’s a magnet to the people around her
Fixed like a child to their mother

A fire so easily contained
She cannot be tamed
Nor does she belong in a cage
The purest warmth you cannot disobey

I promise not to control it
I promise I won’t try to tame it
The fire inside of me is abstract to yours
It’s already ignited a forest to flames

A monster that I created
A fog rampant all around me
Rehabilitate my spirit
Teach me how to add color to my bleak existence
Ciara Jones Jul 2018
A painted mirror
With the image of love
Only intended to show her exterior
No matter the size of the shove

They pick spitefully
Tossing flecks of dried work
But she responds oh so delightfully
Forgetting her crafted worth

Born to show others an image they'd like to perceive
Dead to have not even the maker grieve
Amy Leigh Oct 2018
He   inhaled   deep,  exhaled   slow.  We
were    alone,   alas!   The    sun   setting
the   way  it   does   every  night,  except
noticeably   slow  — calm;   palpitatious
patterns    of   sunset  hitting  fragments
of  dust  gliding, glistening through  the
air.  I  watched   them —  the  minuscule
molecules.  Oh! How tiny! — Otherwise
unseen!  Yet,  there,  circling  — evading
space around us, or perhaps us  around
them,  as  if   in  their  existence,  maybe,
not small after all.  And too, it is similar,
these  drawn   conclusions   like   drawn
curtains  to  light.  However, simple, yet
kind  of  comical, that  there I was in my
existence,  nestled cuddled  snuggled —
delightfully  cozy.  Evidently  small  too,
like them.

© A. Leigh
Thank you for all the love you gave.
Yenson Mar 9
The record is stuck on a track titled Opposing
as the turntable whirled around and around
lyrics of unrequited love and a dying heart dozing
illusions of an Angel that glides in secret underground

The tune is of opening memories and *******
rubbing salt and pepper on raw scars and wounds
retelling a fantasy of woe they wish is depressing
leaving trails of green, pink and gold that hounds

But what is a world without make believe to cheer
do you tell the clouds they're trillions droplets of water
when it hangs so vividly in blue skies delightfully sheer
that a rainmaker knows the alchemy to be a blue plotter

What you think you see is merely going East to reach West
a journey where destination is reached before departure
romance never inclined as the genius sat a ****** test
vibes of past angels had shown this here not a true picture

Forewarned and forearmed the rest is merely theatre
good grace and humanity demands fair play and civility
walk on and present personably in this dramatic sphere
keep in mind an end game that holds fine mental agility

The record is stuck on a track titled Opposing
as the turntable whirled in and out around and around
know that omerta demands you have no heart exposing
in dark days your enemies will know where to take you down
(Read the analysis of the poem in notes)

As you caress my ***** and barren soul
I look into the darkness and hear your wholesome heart beating against your chest, your golden voice is quite blessed. how much time must I wait to enjoy the rest of your lovely quartet, the lovely music of your body’s melody, the calming voice of a siren singing sweet praises that save my soul and make me feel whole. How delightfully I await the clear sight of you. I imagine a holy fallen angel with beautiful black wings and crescent red eyes with undying, unyielding smiles. I imagine what I would give to join this being, this holy soul, this immortal soul. What beautiful tunes...
I realize now that I’m dreaming.
Reality isn’t this beautiful.
I await the day when I find someone as beautiful, as alive as the dead being in my dreams.

Now I ask...
“Is anyone as honest as a demon?”
“Is anyone as beautiful and cruel as immortality?”
“Is anyone as kind hearted as an angel?”
“Is anyone as pure as a the broken?”
“Will I find peace soon...?”
In this poem we speak about a being that is beautiful from afar and hides in the dark from shame and fear of being judged.
She hides but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t speak. She one day finds a man who was wounded from battle and hides with him in the dark. slowly the man is enchanted by her voice as she comforts him in the darkness. He sees an image of what he believes is the closest being to her. She sings for him. He realized that he was the one who brought her into existence. this was his dream. He made a friend at the end. But he knew this wasn’t reality and he passes on after asking five questions. He rejoins a reincarnation cycle yet again... what happens after is up to your imagination.

The man dreamed of a creature like this because he himself was hiding from his reality’s because of his terrible war crimes and deep shame, because of it he was looking for hope someone who felt as ashamed even if it wasn’t in the same way.

We speak of the being created from imagination, then we transition into reality. Dreams and illusions are what bring the world joy. The dreams and illusions also help us face reality. It helps avoid pain of the world and process it slower...

The meaning of quartet In this refers to the women’s/ demons/ illusions soul, heart,voice and body.

The reason why I did not put the “personality” instead of “body.” Topic is because everyone isn’t satisfied with spiritual and person connection. They all have to jump into bed, so I figured modern day people might appreciate this more.

— The End —