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The big city blurs

what is dark, with lots of light --


Is heaven like that?
The concept of heaven

β€œSubduing” (β€œHet dempen”, 2019, Ellen Deckwitz)

Collection "Unseen"
Praying for answers
Begging for silence
We thought
Heaven was high
Here we are falling
I know I've told you a hundred times.
You're the best thing of my life.
Don't wanna be anywhere, but you.
Walking On Cars
I find you
In the strangest places
Like
In between the freckles
of her nose -
Curled up to sleep
in the nooks and crannies
of a bittersweet melody
Dipping your toes
In pools of sound -
Or
Shapeless, clinging
To skin bathed in light -
You drip
Letter after letter
Into the palm of my hand
As blue skies melt to blackness -
Sometimes
You sit, cross-legged, peaceful
Up to your neck in rippling whiteness
I can tell you've been
Waiting
Until a too-long stare brought you to life -
Yet
You crumble when I reach for you
A beautiful mess
Your inspiration drifts soundlessly down
Glowing embers
At my feet -
You leak in measured counts
From melancholy eyes -
I breath your colors
Your impassioned purples
The anguish in your orange vibrations -
You reach through the crack of my window
Stardust in your amber hair
My muse
Rock me to sleep
With lullabies of the mind -
You swallow me, in silence
Stare at me through the eyes of my lover
Whisper secrets
When the wind holds its breath -
You wrap your feathered arms
Around all that exists
And bring it to the edge
Of a kiss
But just
For a moment
When I struggle with my writing, it always comes back to little things that inspire me
the milk swam in the tea like clouds in the sky,
small beads of brown sugar laid at the bottom of the cup,
with a few stirs of a spoon, the drink swirled in clockwise circles.

she sat across an empty chair,
raindrops fell down from the sky to form puddles in the uneven cobble ground,
the chilly wind bit her cheeks and painted them rose.

when she stared into her tea,
it began to sparkle,
peacefully and idyllically.

but it never lasted long.
and she finished her tea.
and the chair was still empty.
please give me some constructive criticism!
Minutiae of life, betwixt

Sacred and profane in the mundane,

If lustless, miraculous disdained,

Evolves at it's own clip

Giving the unseeing eye the slip,

A crysalis of sorts,

Caterpillaring into

Butterflying love.
the corporate structure's convolution's devolutionary direction doesn't have to sociologically through to societally program anyone, not even for a moment, if we choose only not to be   :)   reality
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