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Chris Jan 2019
I found a pretty apple tree and dug myself a grave,
In it I've left my body, words and a sad mind,
All those things in life to whom I were a slave,
All will in the end be gladly left behind.

On every face I see, the same old tired smile,
That always hides a riddle, a story or a myth,
Always full of secrets, always full of lies,
That turn around the smoke o'er the fire pits.

Through rainy eyes I see the dawning of the day,
I admire sun in its morning glory,
I feel its healing beams carrying me away,
And the final darkness- the end of my story.

I picked a snow white flower, and saw in it my death,
In every petal written the end to my pain,
I've crossed this cursed field the path to my last breath,
My soul thus has left me in the light of day.
I found a pretty apple tree and dug myself a grave.
Mohith Dec 2018
You are mist.
The closer you are,
The less I see the world.

Even when you aren't,
I feel the aura you bring.
The stillness you posses,
Make me feel the warmth.

You descent over the paths,
Keeping me idle.
You vanish,
Keeping me spellbound.

But for the visible absence,
You are mist.
Haruharu Dec 2018
My plan was to enter the new year without you in it.

To let midnight's fireworks be a mark of leaving 2018 and you behind.

I can't.

It's still you.

I'll take the risk of bringing you with me to next year.

As my grey area.

I'll leave our fate in the hands of 2019.
Vlad Dec 2018
Where is an end -
There is a beginning
But how to know
If it's good enough.

One can simply not
See the future on his own.
But one can hope
And share one's dreams with others.
King Dec 2018
I was thinking of nothing when I met you
Silhouettes escaped my mouth and danced
A cowardly song, carrying my feelings to
My eyes open, widely entranced
By the idea of loving again

Soft footsteps, waterfall eyes
Excitement gripping my heart
Ideally, falling to pieces again
As I let you shred me apart

Loud music, static for brains
Fire leaves burns on my face
Lovely, finding the smoke in my veins
As I further my death into art

Dead hands, across burned flesh
Opposites dance in the night
Computer brains, refresh
And candles burn open my eyes
Oh the idea of loving again
Philomena Dec 2018
I can see it now
The crowd a mix of strangers and friends
The stark white or rather the crisp lacy soft white all around me
The loud talking among such soft sweet music
The touch of your skin on mine each time our hands meet
The soft click of heels on the floor
The warm look in your eyes as they met mine
The contrast of the petals against the ground
The tenderness in your voice
The love in the air
Cant tell if this is one of those achievable dreams or not yet
Mariam Baalbaki Dec 2018
Everything has an ending.
You favorite song gets annoying,
Your friendships fall apart,
Your passion evaporates,
Your book has it's last dot,
Your life ends.

But every ending is a beginning.
You find another song,
You connect with other friends,
You discover new feelings,
You read another book,
The memory of your being stays alive.

Every cicle has an ending,
So it can start fresh again.
Rohit Goyal Dec 2018
Tired and gentle waves of the mighty ocean
receding to the horizon like the slowly setting sun
But even when it's dark, they will come back
and the waves will bring you back home

And when the sun rises again the next day
slowly pushing the eternal darkness away
diminishing it to just the shadows
the dawn will bring you back home

the refreshing smell of the summer breeze
the mild sunlight filtered from the trees
may just make the world a little bigger
the wilderness will bring you back home

the younger self, abandoned and ignored
will replace the ghosts secretly abhorred
and when it smiles in all sincerity
you will see that you were always home
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