“I wish that you would confess to me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I wish…”
“Tell me on a winter afternoon.”
“Why is that?”
“I am incapable of loving you now; the sun is too warm, the sky is too blue.”
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Cosmic Funnies
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS

@theartofmadeline
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ellievsbear
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tannertan36

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titsay

Origami Around
Peter Solarz
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d e v o n

oozey mess
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
art blog(derogatory)
trying on a metaphor
Claire Keane

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@endlessblackroses
“I wish that you would confess to me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I wish…”
“Tell me on a winter afternoon.”
“Why is that?”
“I am incapable of loving you now; the sun is too warm, the sky is too blue.”
Let me love you like a planet loves the sun,
Revolving around you in your orbit.
The sight of a plastic bottle lying amidst green grass and clover leaves,
Your company is as unnatural in my presence as the sun shining through an abandoned alley,
I seek solace in phantoms of you and I on late night walks under street lamps,
The sun is now setting on this cold park bench, empty and lonely,
Where have you gone? This city feels so foreign without you.
It is raining…
The sound of spring rain through my window,
Is softer than your voice under my fingertips.
The space beside me is empty and devoid,
Of your shadow and reverberating laughter.
Your coffee cup is absent,
And mine sits too lonely amidst this silence.
I keep your letters sealed,
To make the impression that
You still have words to say to me.
If I don’t read your farewells,
I can still pretend that we will meet.
I drew a sword before everyone who dared approach me,
Only you were aware that my hands were afraid to cut,
These fingers you taught me to unclench and drop the weapon that weighed so heavy,
Delicate were your palms that placed flowers in my fists.
If you miss the train I’m on,
Know that I will pull the chain, and I
Will run to you,
Through the crowded platform,
I will find you.
She hurled at me words that were like poison on a knife’s blade, a heart so soaked in hatred it fails to see its exposed ugliness.
I’d listen to you talk about the weather on a clear sunny day…
The sun is mine.
The sun belongs to me, and me alone.
I own the sun, in all its glory.
You are the summer’s soft breeze,
The sun’s rays in a quiet winter’s glee,
A poet’s fingers grasping at the pages,
A muse’s warm smile timid in the wind,
Your cold hands seek warmth in the steam,
A coffee cup snuggling in your palms,
Written there are the songs in your sleep,
A sweetness washing over your dreams.
Like a dress tucked away in a closet,
Your perfume’s etched into my arms,
Aging as sincerely as a wine,
Carrying memories of a forgotten time.
I shall never know loneliness,
Not as fluently as my mother.
Her eyes glisten with tears,
And her heart shatters quietly,
In helplessness and fear,
Is cruelty in every soul’s blood,
Every soul but ours?
This afternoon,
I awoke to the sound of voices,
Reprimanding my existence,
How cruel it is out here…
I dreamt of being kissed,
Softly over the veins in my wrist,
How sweet it is to sleep…
The contrast of a sweet love,
And my heart being broken,
How much deeper will this loneliness be?
If loneliness could be expressed in words,
It would break a pen’s nib,
Create a little pond of ink over the paper’s body,
A reflection of darkness in its depth,
No light would pierce the dried up black hole,
Spreading a little more each glance you steal at it,
It’s daunting, hiding the writer’s soul within it.
Is it my money you are after?
At least…that’s what they tell me.
You make it tough and tougher…
To not believe them.
Am I too good for you?
That you like it when I’m unkind…is it so?
You tell me now what I wish to hear,
And then you ask me if I can send you cash…
You are hungry, and I am the mother who feeds you.
Oh darling, am I to despise you?
You say it is only my love you are after,
And then you forget to return what I lent you.
~ I am your magical ATM.
My poetry is born of my hatred for you,
And my hatred is born of my love for you,
And my love is born of our sorrowful truth.