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Literature Text
You see her
You see her
Standing there so lonely
You speak words
You speak words
And find out she's lovely
Within time
Within time
You become friends, so closely
You realize
You realize
She's now your darling
You can't live life without her
Everything before is a blur
Her smile is what gets you through those long, hard days
So you get the courage to tell her
How much should occur
That she needs to be yours, but then you see
How she holds another's hand
Smiling big, so happy, next to that man
How cold your heart turns, seeing something you cannot stand
Because seeing those two was not what you planned
And then she turns to see your face
Her hand is raised and then she waves
Even though your heart is crushed
To see her smile is what you want
You see her
Standing there so lonely
You speak words
You speak words
And find out she's lovely
Within time
Within time
You become friends, so closely
You realize
You realize
She's now your darling
You can't live life without her
Everything before is a blur
Her smile is what gets you through those long, hard days
So you get the courage to tell her
How much should occur
That she needs to be yours, but then you see
How she holds another's hand
Smiling big, so happy, next to that man
How cold your heart turns, seeing something you cannot stand
Because seeing those two was not what you planned
And then she turns to see your face
Her hand is raised and then she waves
Even though your heart is crushed
To see her smile is what you want
Literature
To Dream of Falling
I dream of falling.
It's not a dream common to angels. After all, we have a pair of wings--or two or three--and we can use them. We float upon the air, dance among the stars, shape the clouds with our breath, and so on. All that lovely wordplay to describe an indescribable. A joy, a graceless power. Flight.
Humans dream of it often, I am told. It makes sense. They have no wings save for what they create with their hands. Airplanes, hang gliders, helicopters. Kites. They are obsessed with the sky, more so than the angels themselves, many of whom will fly three thousand miles rather than walk across the street.
And yet I dream of f
Literature
Confession
Lips met in clumsy haiku,
against each other, pressed,
the way the earth touches the sky,
soft and whimsy as the dusk.
Tongues painted passion-
sunset colors,
halcyon atmosphere, infused,
-upon every awaiting space offered.
Metaphors dotted the hallows of limbs and tasted like the seasons-
a bursting and vibrant spring,
a hot and passionate summer,
Literature
Writer
I am a scientist;
Pinning down ideas
like butterflies
preserving them in
their fragile beauty
as I take away their freedom,
their life.
I am a parasite;
sucking the soul out
of music and leaving it
a hollow shell
that plays like
the noisy silence in
my ears.
I am a thief;
taking what is not mine,
the world around me,
and pouring it into
a mould that
I claim is
my own.
I am a blasphemer;
playing God in a
sacred place, changing
the world to my
liking when the orchestra
is not under my
conduction.
I am a liar;
selling false havens
to lonely runaways,
giving them a glimpse
of a world more glamorous,
more fantas
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Pic from morguefiles, edited by me:3
A poem that came to me after listening to a song...In my head I hear a melodic flow with it, so I know I"m not reading it the same way as everyone else...
Oh well XD
A poem that came to me after listening to a song...In my head I hear a melodic flow with it, so I know I"m not reading it the same way as everyone else...
Oh well XD
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