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Arcassin B Feb 2015
By Arcassin B & blue

OB
"He likes to laugh,
And look happy,
His good humor is never off,
Doesn't mind to sound sappy.
But people don't imagine
That he's just pretending.
Pretending to be happy
When his life is a disaster
Showing he is lucky,
But to his end running faster.
For this he can only blame his own,
Finally being what he is : a sad clown. "
AB
Her smile,
I put in notebooks,
The elegance of skin is so soft,
I seen beauty for all it took,
Passive unanswered messages,
Not really big on answering,
Questions of your aura as it happen,
Mood swings so staggering,
But sorrow is so saddening,
Pressured memories,
Haunt you at midnight,
So you stay up talking to me,
Is the only time you ever wanna reply.
Why does love seem weird
J J Sep 2019
We found a cosy enough scene amongst the chaos,
Two strangers connecting among a crowd
like anxious magnets in a scrapyard
And it felt
A first encounter with a lifetime lover from some other dimension;
my self in a sense, caught to the reflection of an opposite ***.

We were the 'quiet ones' in our own regard
Prone to panic attacks and sudden unruly suggestion of madness and lengthy times of introvert
And although there was a lifesworth we never knew
There was enough of an understanding to
Make conversation. I mostly listened,
Lost in your voice. I don't think I'd ever gotten on with
Someone so quick
                            but
   There are some beautiful people in the world that do that:
By the end of a conversation you're ready to hold them
A million years
                     Or more.

The second conversation came later in the night,
Listening to the flowery clock locked to her chest
her mouth stirring cockerel shells and laughing honey teeth
liltly blind; oceanblue irises circumference marble black
            pupils, puffy cheeks and half moon lips
                            curled and split in a caring smirk;

it seems impossible
to imagine being you and not thinking myself beautiful
Yet you say that's the case,
And like my expression was open to telepathy
She said the very same thing back to me and we both thought
I love you
but neither could say it.

There probably wasnt enough similarities to make up
For the differences.
Eldon Wangdee Oct 2018
There was nothing wrong in the sky this morning,
It was oceanblue , clear and clean,
Birdsong, the sunshine and lines of whitish appearing-disappearing.
Everything was perfect like an art of Vincent Van Gogh’s painting,
In perfect form of the sky I felt the  pain of impermanence,
I saw the art in the sky and it’s beautiful was for a second that my eyes couldn’t frame it inside my head any longer than one minute.
I am just trying hard. Need support and criticism too. Help

— The End —