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Gidgette Apr 2017
In the stillness of night they whisper
Telling secrets of all that will never be
Drowning out star chatter
The eyes painted upon the wings of the
Luna Moths
See much
But a fleeting seven days of life
Borne of the moon
Green as emeralds shining in lunar light
Resting in hands of dark dwellers
Eternally lusting for glow
From a moon they can only flutter for
And whisper of things
Never to be~A
Luna Moths are beautiful. Being the cruel creature that I am, I have many of them dried and pinned to pieces of coloured velvet, framed and hung on my walls. They have no mouths. Their only objective is to mate. Which they do. For hours on end. <3
Gidgette Apr 2017
I woke up this morning thinking "Ooh, pretty poetry, wonder what lovely words graced the screen while I slept."
I woke to THIS! More crap I can't understand. What the hell? I can't work this. Now, I'm gonna go to my crap job and with out a single pretty poem to occupy my raving lunatic mind because I don't know how to work these new changes! Its 6:57 am and I'm going to have a drink!! Good day!
It doesn't matter if you comment because I can't ******* see it!
Gidgette Apr 2017
These changes aren't good. Please, Mr. York, change it back. We love your poetry site. But we love the way it WAS.
What the hell?! I'm mad. I don't even know how to work this **** anymore. ****! I'm having fits!
Gidgette Apr 2017
Standing, in the gathering darkness
in the fading light of the bleeding sun,
Hooded and cloaked,
amongst the dying trees
Golden cursed tears of scattered forever,
Falling from white eyes,
ringed in black
Decisions to stay held
aloft,
A leaf blown through out time on the breeze of
Eternity
Or,
To wake a heart, cursed with forever
Knowing
That the bearer of such a cursed heart
Will fade, as the colour of a rose lain upon an immortal grave
Dying trees can't speak
and reflections held in mortal tears
Evaporate~A
  Apr 2017 Gidgette
Eden
A strong woman always has a secret garden. Inside is everything a blind person will never achieve by looking down on her, or even looking past her.
© Salamasina T.
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