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Red-haired artificially
with shiny teeth,
clean knees
with a gap in between.

and my voice will carry
like a songbird in the morning.
Beautifully composed
uttering a peaceful warning

My linens
So pink...
no blue stains to be seen.

And the skin I wear
Porcelain.
airbrushed and screaming
a lulled importance

With my night creams
and appointments
lessons and ointments

I will become the most perfect woman-made sculpture America has ever seen.
Shaima Apr 2018
I know the way your eyes feel,
when they’re grazing my eyes.
I miss having no reason
to distrust your simile.
Why am I so accustomed
to letting it all die
when you only gave me chances to love our pink sky.
Mary-Eliz Apr 2018
Full

again
the moon
perched
atop
a darkened
plank of cloud
floating
in iridescent
river of sky

again
the moon
pregnant
with
the sun’s
light
round full
lake of fervor

again
the moon
opalescent
in
the stars’
glimmer
silver frosted
ocean of ecstasy

again

                        the moon...
A rerun of a poem from last April - though renamed.

April’s Full Moon, the Full Pink Moon, heralds the appearance of the “moss pink,” or wild ground phlox—one of the first spring flowers. It is also known as the Sprouting Grass Moon, the Egg Moon, and the Fish Moon.
These names were not invented by The Old Farmer’s Almanac. They were used by early Colonial Americans—who learned the names from the local Native Americans; time was not recorded by using the months of the Julian or Gregorian calendar. Many tribes kept track of time by observing the seasons and lunar months, although there was much variability. The name itself usually described some activity that occurred during that time in their location.
Mujer morena
que canta nocturna,
niña colombiana
de ojos grandes,
mi canto que
se vuelve nocturno,
mujer de luna,
corremos despacio,
mojamos el mundo.

Te vi sonreir,
con los jeans azules,
el cigarro eterno,
la mirada al infinito.

Soñe despierto
buscando el recuerdo
siempre
risueña,
mujer,
miel de abeja...
La chica...
La de la gorra rosa.
Shylah S Oct 2017
roses bleed
adorned upon gold leaves
thorns prickle on sheets
fine pinks turn gray
fall into soil
grows again bright pink
Connor Apr 2018
He doesn't want this to end,
This time they're spending
Together.

He looks so beautiful like this,
Head tilted, lips parted slightly
A pretty pink on his cheeks.

He's drinking peppermint tea
As is his ritual on days
Such as these.

I am indulging in coffee
Loaded with Extra Sweet creamer
And am focused on him.

His glasses bring out his
Jawline.

His gentle laugh lines are so
Welcoming.

There's an irresistible twinkle in his
Eyes.

We cuddled up and watched movies
Many of which made me cry,
Cry into his shoulder.

We shared a blanket that barely
Had room for two people, even
In close proximity.

His body was very warm,
His chest was inviting me
To lay my head on it.

His mouth tastes like peppermint tea.
His lips are as delicate as rose petals.
He is glowing with radiance.

Those days at the gym paid
Off.

His abs bring out his gentle
Curves.

His smooth skin bruises quite
Nicely.
I haven't written anything in a while :) Feels good to be back.
kailasha Apr 2018
You sung a song
so sweet my heart
shifted closer to you

I dreamt a dream
so glorious the sky
turned to pink from blue
a mood.
Tallie Apr 2018
I used to be neon pink
Smile wide and radiant
Everything is great, I would think
Then I started to go silent

Here I am, neon I am not
Light bulbs gone dead
I used to talk quite a lot
Now it’s all in my head

Colors been drawn out
Not drawn, strained
Stuck in an eternal drought
I’m afraid it’s unexplained
Tina Salvatore Apr 2018
The air smelled of strong perfume
The sky was lit with coral hues
The babies mouth was lit with a smile
Although it didn't last for a while

The sound of crying filled the air
The ocean breeze was abound with despair
The coral skies suddenly turned azure
And the night that was coming
wasn't very far
In Literature we learned about color poems so I made this poem in honor
Philline Mar 2018
She's letting the wind blow her crowning glory
Dispersing in mid air
Touching her rosy cheeks
Covering her tantalizing eyes
She is the portrait of aesthetic art

He just watches her enjoy the panaroma
His lips stretching into a wide smile
His eyes glow with a hint of adoration
His heart pulsates under pink skies

Silence is deafeningly astounding
When two hearts synchronize in beating
And that drum beat is all they can hear
When love begins here
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