Robin Lemmen Jul 9
We speak with fire on our tongue
Hoping to find a match in angry looks
Aiming to light up and respark
Hit where we know words hurt most
Lashing out and cashing in
I apologize for feelings for speaking truths
You are proud but you reach out
As a means of saying sorry
Ironic as we know we both
Will do it all again
Strike a match past the parchment
Of our skin, drawing fires
Drawing circles until we burn
Out, out, again and again
Smoldering embers of what could have been
Leaving marks shaped like feelings
Neither of us can make worth of

And so they kept on drawing fires
Past the parchment
Of their skins
Braxan Dec 2016
(Before you continue reading I ask that you read all of it and thats all I ask; proceed€;)



Feeling dizzie is what I hate the most,
knowing I have anything more to say;
Nothing better to say but I love you juliet
And knowing all I have to say is pointless to all life,
I’ve been
Intoxicated underwater;
Almost there where the stilled pond shows no more trace of me,
Am drowning in my tears also downing  shots at a time with a side of ginger, call it siping light and a cherry on top;
How you used to be the jewel sparkling the pathway of my dark ways....
Ran into bigger doors;
Dodging stiff jabs also caught swinging back.
Keeping one eye open while the other caught by a strike and bruised swollen shut...
Doesn't matter the size of a fighter, only the amount of fight left in a puncher dedicated to be the last man standing at the end of it.
l1l B
(*Before you continue reading I ask that you read **all of it** and thats all I ask*)
pk tunuri Feb 20
When your thoughts strike like a dart
My feelings gets pierced in my heart

Every night I wet my pillow with tears
As if gods listening to my prayers

Life seems to be fun with you
I can't imagine how that happiness, just flew
I hope you always knew
That my love was true

How easy for you to forget those days
Nothing is as heavy as this pain weighs
When you truely love someone and after sometime when they don't care about you anymore, The only things you are left with are tears and prayers
-JCM- 7d
I pull up your number
Lucky digits
If I hit it
Will I strike out
Pressing send
Its a gamble
I'm in shambles
Come on baby
Let me win the lotto

-JCM-
I recalled the smell of junipers warming in the sun,
Or maybe mice nesting under the cupboard.
Or bleached linen hung out by Mum,
Reminds me of something about Dad from long ago,
You ask me…to say if it was gin;
There are things I can’t tell you, Son.
Some people think that it’s a sin;
So just use your imagination.

Another time I smelled crushed daisies of
The housemaids, I remember from Kleßheim.
Thunderstorms rolled down from the Alps at night,
Then turned at morning into clarified, buttered sun.
They remind me of someone’s blonde hair,
I just can’t tell you when or where,
So use your imagination.

Scent is the most potent mnemonic,
Triggering mystical cells inside,
Creating a stream of biophotonics,
Rapture returns in histrionics,
Tracking things from skin and hair,
To lips and eyes, to a groan, an intrigued stare.
Things we can never tell another, even if
He or she or they were there
What happened in those brilliant days?
Only imagination can say.

Crystal hanging in the window at nine o’clock,
Rays strike the glass, opening up the past.
Before me spreads a wide, green lawn,
Ladies and lords stroll with their finery on.
I sit and watch, while the procession advances,
Tricornes doffed and stays undone in dances.
Until the satin, silk and brocades lie on the ground,
Gavotte kisses become tender, sensual rounds
And naked, youth flees into woods.
And everything is happening;
Everything is good.
This is about memory, predominantly smell, how much we remember and what is only guessed at. The last part is about memories of a past life triggered by light in a prism.
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