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What if the clouds above us
Lit ablaze
As they covered the stars tonight?
What if they fell
To baptize us in flame
As we lay beside each other
Waiting for something to happen?
What if the earth swallowed us whole
And we never saw another soul?
What if something supernatural, something strange
Really happened in this moment
Like we so desperately hope?

What if you and I had never met?
What if the separate roads we took in life
Were not yet built
Or turned another way?
What if all the things we wished had never happened
Were bottled up and thrown into the sea?
What if you don't wake tomorrow—
Where would I be?
And if we were a continent apart—
As we will be soon—
How would I cope?
What if I went my way
And you went yours—
And what if our ways won't ever intersect?
What if we reunite someday
But we don't really know each other?

I believe
That if we truly dwell in possibility
We won't enjoy the time we have.
So let’s just lie right here and stare at the nighttime clouds
And let's be glad that nothing truly happened.
I would love some feedback on this poem.
This is addressed to my best friend, the brother I never had. I wrote this about a year ago, a little while after we graduated high school. He and I indeed have gone our separate ways and I want to give him this as a gift (as he's not yet seen it), so please let me know how/what to fix. Thanks!!
Liv
A faraway look in your rapid-blinking eyes
As you search the ceiling for memories of him
The way you dart them back and forth
As you reminisce with mouth agape

A faint remembering grin that longs for his
And you fiddle with your fingers
Like a little girl with a darling crush
And every detail of his heart and mind
Pours past your smiling lips
With a longing for the past and a wishing for the future.
Wrote this in a couple minutes as I watched my friend describe to me a boy she once loved. Thought it was a beautiful moment, so I attempted to capture it.
When it comes time for my soul to part from my body,
bury me somewhere I've never seen before.
Inter me in a place I've not yet visited.
If you have any difficulty doing so,
then you may be assured
my life was one worth living.
I wanna die with a worn-out passport.
you
folded
me
like
paper
into
cute
little
cranes*

just to keep me in a box to make room for
someone new
 Mar 2014 Rachel Mena
Shylah S
Apple
 Mar 2014 Rachel Mena
Shylah S
People are like apples picked from a tree,
The beautiful ones with no imperfections are picked first,
but that makes them bitter and unripe.

The bruised and dented are picked last,
but that makes them sweet and delicious.

But beauty is just a perception.
The second you bite into the sweet but imperfect apple,
you realize it is more beautiful than all other apples combined.
Beauty
is
just a
perception.

So don't hide your dents and perfect imperfections.
If you do, you may become bitter inside.
Beautiful is not a definition of you,
but you are the definition of **beautiful.
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