Kat Aug 2018
What if there's a door that's always sitting there.
The surface is bare.
And it carries a mysterious air.
No matter what people do to the door that just sits there.
The next morning the door is always repaired.

Something so curious like the door.
Everyone finds it a bore.
After all it's just a boring old door.
After seeing the damage disappear you would think people would write lore.
But the door isn't interesting, the door is a bore.

The door's been places.
The door has guarded libraries full of bookcases.
The door has seen everything from schools to fireplaces.

Whenever the place, the door has been goes away,
the door is always there insistent to stay.
But eventually the door gets found and gets transported away.

The door doesn't change.
The door is always a door but no one thinks it's strange.
But the door moves from place to place.
No one knows where or which door frame the door will choose as a base.
Kalarav Sep 2017
I can barely see the Sun now.
It's slowly drowning into a pool of clouds,
turning a shade darker as it does so,
like a red bindi in the sky.
Awed by the mysterious beauty
I stand there starring.
Orange, pink and red clouds
fading into a deep blue.
The rest of the sky is covered with tiny shiny dots
and silhouettes of birds flying home
on the amber background.
The Sun's glowing like a jasper
and slowly it's completely under the horizon,
but a few rays cut through the clouds
like closing doors of the Heavens.
After the sunset the sky is a different kind of heaven.
The Night wears her beautiful cerulean dress,
decorated with diamonds we call stars.
They twinkle, they're a priceless sight,
covered often by clouds or pollution
seems like she is unhappy with us humans.
Nature, a vast beauty all around.
Despite being forgotten
it shows off it's beauty in a daily routine.
Do you care to notice?
Sunsets are priceless sights I see everyday. There is so much in life we forget to notice, but life goes on. When you feel low take a look around, you'll find a reason to live, to love!
Perry Jan 7
The door is open
Antonyme Apr 2018
Hearts are like Doors,
Once they are opened,
they can never close.
#love #life #happyness
L Oct 2018
They say they love you.
And they care about you.
And that theyre there for you.

And. Thats supposed to feel good. Its supposed to feel nice.
Be nice.

But honestly.
It just makes me feel nervous.
Uneasy.
Apprehension and suspicion grip me.

They shake me.

And yet at the same time, mostly,
I feel apathy.
Nothing
As if your words were as grains of sand to my beach.
As if they were the folds of some drapery
That i depicted in my sketching class.
Singularly, it is so insignificance to me.
And maybe thats where im going wrong. Looking for beauty and solidity in pebbles and ripples.
It all. Means something. Everything. But.
It all means nothing.
Theyre just words.

And whos to say youre even real.

Wait.
Am i even real.
..and now i cant ******* close them.
Kori Tullier Aug 2018
She stares into the mirror, numb.
All she sees is the imperfections.
Her body trembles as she runs her fingers along each stretch mark.
Tears stream down her cheeks, bluring her vision.
She falls to the floor, trying to hide her stomach so the fat doesn't show.
She wishes she could be the girl she once was.
She reaches for the knife of the counter and just clenches it in her hand.
Sobbing harder, she drops it knowing that she'll become stronger some day.
She gradually composes herself, rising to her feet.
She'll break this cycle one day.
It might not be soon but it will happen.
frosted Nov 2018
i keep telling myself you are not allowed
to exit and re-enter my life as you please,
but i leave the door unlocked
so what does that make me?
i wonder if your mother knows about
the collection of hearts you hide in your closet
i wonder if she could tell
mine apart from the rest
your secrets are still tucked between my ribs
i will hold them safe and
repeat them back to you if you
ever lose your way home
the trees are bare and winter is
knocking at the door you used to
dance me through
and now I feel cold but
not like frostbite in december, like
i am buried toe to neck but
cannot pull my head out of wind chill.
frostbite is too strong and
i'm not quite sure I'm
there yet, it's like lockjaw
it's like every muse
that used to live for you
is slowly dying and all i can do
is watch them fall.
why did we stop dancing?
i haven't always been so clumsy.
i am sorry my coffee shakes in its mug
when i think about the art of war
but don't you know the grenade with a loose pin
just wants to be held for awhile?
i keep telling myself you're not allowed
to pick me up and put me down as you please
but i love feeling light, so what does that make me?
i think i might have been stepping on your toes.
i think i've always known.
i have fought many wars &
there haven't been many casualties but
i am sorry you were one of them.
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