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Literature Text
she's the girl
with the dark
ebony
hair, and the
blue moon eyes.
the fragile one
with cobweb bones,
alabaster
skin, and an oh-
so-broken soul.
she's the girl with a
deepdark secret, the
starry sky lashes,
and a little cracked
heart made out of glass.
she's the one you
pray you won't be-
come, because her
breath smells of death
and alcohol.
you see the
girl with the
blue moon eyes
and the heart
made of glass,
and say:
not the cobweb bones,
nor the alabaster skin,
no, not even the
oh-so-broken soul
could ever make me love her.
with the dark
ebony
hair, and the
blue moon eyes.
the fragile one
with cobweb bones,
alabaster
skin, and an oh-
so-broken soul.
she's the girl with a
deepdark secret, the
starry sky lashes,
and a little cracked
heart made out of glass.
she's the one you
pray you won't be-
come, because her
breath smells of death
and alcohol.
you see the
girl with the
blue moon eyes
and the heart
made of glass,
and say:
not the cobweb bones,
nor the alabaster skin,
no, not even the
oh-so-broken soul
could ever make me love her.
Literature
Nebula.
my partner in crime draws lines on her forearms with her billboard eyes
and we stick golden in your head like fireflies and unripe bananas and we're lovely when we're not
pining for those days when we can be stunning
alone.
this stain lasts on the fabric like you were last night
white like never and nothing and
not innocence because that's dark like the backs of my eyelids when I'm trying not to box up your
simple silence and play it like a fuzzy radio signal to put me to sleep.
if I stare at lunar valleys and remember that wishes only occur in silver and moonrays
I learn anew that if we could just lose gravity like astronauts
th
Literature
Stars
"Stay In here, don't go out to the streets".
That is what the man said-or whispered- as he opened the window for new air. They were scared, the fear tangible in the humid air around them. They breathed it in slowly, and it filled them up, ran through their body, and overcame their minds.
Outside the ancient, forgotten city is a world unknown. As the innocent people remain locked inside the labyrinth of cobblestone streets, the violence continues outside the majestic doors. There is no end to it.
"I-I think I can hear them"
Them? Who are They? They are nothing but mere pawns on a battered chessboard; each one so close to the death that has
Literature
Phenomenatrics
i. Boy meets girl.
{and it's not love but it isn't science either, it's cicada song alchemy at a summer storm epicentre. It's skirls of brittle-bright hummingbird laughter; it's midnight fairground phosphorescence and ether-flavoured ferris-wheel thrills.}
ii. He obviously worships her, and she's got it just as bad.
{and maybe that's true, but it's so much more than their condescending venus flytrap smiles will ever understand. It's solstice prayers by touch and unsanctioned bareskin baptisms in lakes of ink and glowflies.}
iii. It's like they can read each other's minds.
{it's not like that at all. She reads riptide chronicles in t
Suggested Collections
Interpret this however the hell you want. I know I've got not clue what it's about.
I tried doing some sort of format for this poem, and I think it really makes me write better poetry, since it makes me actually think about what I'm writing. This poem took me 35 minutes to write. Usually it takes 5.
First stanza has 3 syllables, second has 4, third has 5, fourth has 4, fifth has 3. Then the rest... is sorta just free for all.
features
feature.01 by #unknown---artists
Click please --> [link]
I tried doing some sort of format for this poem, and I think it really makes me write better poetry, since it makes me actually think about what I'm writing. This poem took me 35 minutes to write. Usually it takes 5.
First stanza has 3 syllables, second has 4, third has 5, fourth has 4, fifth has 3. Then the rest... is sorta just free for all.
features
feature.01 by #unknown---artists
Click please --> [link]
© 2010 - 2024 Mercy-Waters
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Hello there, you've been featured in my journal from #unknown---artists