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Dare Jul 2015
She's the type of girl who spends her days waiting to watch the sunset every night, only to write about how compelling of a view it was. How she runs barefoot across such harsh surfaces just to catch a glimpse of its radiance and not even flenching when her feet are bruised.

I am the type of girl who used to not be able to imagine something more breathtaking than the suns bow as it leaves the stage for the stars to take over. The kind who simultaneously finds herself and gets lost in a matter of a few minutes while staring up at something of such beauty.

When those two things mix, when the two people share in the same unfathomable sunset, she becomes fixated on the sky while I become completely captivated in the way that the sun dances on her hair and how the light of the sun could never dream of comparing to the one in her eyes. How her embrace makes me feel a type of warmth that the heat could not possibly create. Trying not to stare, but also not wanting to look away. Fumbling on my words because the only thing that wants to come out are the words "I love you."
The sky could never fathom the beauty that you contain
timarakinchion Jun 2013
I'm walking instead of running,
Being left seeing everything that's coming.
I'm feeling behind,i'm a little slow.
There's something wrong,&&now; i think
everyone knows.Nowhere i'm getting,Flenching
everytime to me someone puts there fist,(&)i'm really
not kidding,i wasn't intending,to be this far away,to be this behind
how can i stay,how can i say,the reason why on the street,i just laid,
feeling betrayed,but all i can do is pray,while i'm being left,but it's ok!
Chris Thomas Jul 2017
Oh, Viola
Your missteps are our haven
Dropping, and dripping
Sorbet on the sidewalk
To melt on summer mornings

Oh, Viola
Save the best for first ensemble
Scoffing, and skipping
To the tune of Frère Jacques
A beacon for seaborn warnings

Oh, Viola
A dainty marvel shadow
Flenching, and flaking
Til' Hale Street gleams in purple hues
To banter with the orchids

Oh, Viola
Overhead and underfoot
Whistling, and wincing
From the piercing of a brother
At the pulpits of the sordid

— The End —