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effie ebbtide Dec 2015
Stars are actually snowballs, constantly being thrown at each other by the playful children
that are the Old Gods.
Planets are ornaments
that adorn the Christmas tree
in the center of the Solar System.
One of them has a floral pattern,
one of them has the British flag on it,
and one of them, I think, is half-shattered, only held together
by the holy adhesive that is tape.
The meteors are popcorn garlands,
that we popped the other night.
Now they're stale and flavorless,
so we decided
to decorate space
with them.
YoungSymba Oct 2015
I get fleeting glimpse of the skies whenever I glance at her eyes
I see the stars entwine,twinkling,dancing to the rhythm of your heart.
breathing new air into my lungs
Which certainly rejuvenates me back to life.
Cover my scars with words that spell out "you'll be fine" synonymously as a tattoo would promising me eternal shine.

I could've been sceptical and believe my eyes have seen a mirage due to the paths in the past whereby a candle went out in the long run and introduced me to the dark.

Comforted me with a smile that ignited your aura.
Smoothened my tongue with that honey that sourced of your thoughts that are floral.
Her.A.Beautiful.Dream
AmberLynne Jul 2015
I show the world my flowers,
daisies flowing from my fingertips,
smiling with the brightness of tulips,
and leaving a trail of poppy footprints
with each step I take.

I present this spring-themed Monet masterpiece,
careful to conceal the chaotic overcrowding
pushing, building pressure beneath the surface.
This rootbound torture belies the floral illusion,
and if you peer closely at the pretty pastels,
you'll see they're nothing more than
brush strokes and broken hopes.
6.5.2015
A Whitney Feb 2015
You'll find me in the forest
Beneath the silver birch tree
With ribs in weaves of primrose
And stomach in knots of heather
Waves are the ocean
Black and untainted
Detailed without needles on.

I ****** the same waves
And its curls recoil
Playing safe with fine fingertips.

The clips got messed up
Some flora makes ends meet
Roses without thorns*
Oh, perfect fit!

(6/29/14 @xirlleelang)
her face her face
i fall into her gaze: she pulls me in with the sombre gravity
of her eyes those soft brown eyes
that close and open
open
close
shut tight
the petals of a daisy flinching at the night
harsh bright light flinching delight
as she bites
pink tipped strawberry tongue surrounded
by the white gates of Heaven
or maybe my Hell
A Hell that could take a bite of my lip
Will bite tight
snap
Shut
lips closed eyes open
I am open
she opens me like a Daisy opens for the sun
I am searching searching searching
for something
for anything
I am a lost sailor drowning in the salty tears a mermaid cried
all the men she loves are lost
I search for her
My light house
But she closes
Bud-like
she is the End of summer
the eternal Summer of her gaze
I wilt
droop
die.
amber May 2014
the flowers in your hair
are not fortunate enough to meet your eyes
instead they only ever sit on your head
and improvise
amber Apr 2014
Each flower
I picked for you
I wished and wished
For your words to be true

But even the stems
Knew you told lies
Slowly, they shrunk
Without saying their goodbyes

Each flower i picked
Reminded me of your eyes
And the stems were are strong
As your permanent lies
Nathan Squiers Apr 2014
Two lips met in the forest,
Sighing South and heaving North.
They prayed with words unspoken.
Drinking in the dried tears of sated loneliness;
Chewing 'pon the swelled pride of ancient lusts.

An ethereal plume drives the dew-soaked petals closer,
Until neither root nor stem can discern their place.

Two lips met in the meadow,
Singing East and chanting West.
They pursed with anxious anticipation,
And parted with baited excitement,
While the ghosts of lovers surfed upon their hums.

Two lips.
Are as one.

— The End —