For the Lovers.

[juliettescalling]

Poetry can be many colors,

The blue of clear skies and bruised hearts,

Or the red of blood and angry lovers.

It can even be vintage brown,

Sealed with melted wax.

Yet it is forever fated to be written,

In ink... Black.

[juliettescalling]

I'm scared I'll wait forever and you'll never come...

[juliettescalling]

"You write so beautifully. The inside of your mind must be a terrible place" ~Unknown

[juliettescalling]

Maybe there was something beautiful in the ruins of us...

[wordx]

You're beautiful and i'm insane.

[juliettescalling]

Someone else is going to love me softer than you ever knew how...

[juliettescalling]

He's like a poem i wish i wrote ~Olivia Rodrigo

[juliettescalling]

"What horrifies me the most is the idea of being useless: well educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age" ~ Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[juliettescalling]

Sometimes you just need to cry to the moon

[juliettescalling]

I sat in silence, searching the night sky, A single drop of moonlight dancing in my eye. For the smallest sip of air, for another exquisite lie, Dreaming till the end, till my very last sigh. But where I sought a friend, company to my misery, She only saw a girl, another fleeting mystery. Yet this time, she reached down, drinking in my pain, Her sweet silver lips, calling out my name. She asked me what price I would dare to pay, To watch my world drift away. “Trade your heart, a soul for the sky, An answer to your dreams with one last lie.” “Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely a sound, “I give you myself, if only to be unbound.” She laughed, too soft a sound to trust, As she spun our bargain into sweet glimmering dust. Now every night, I watch her there, As I polish my stars with loving care. And while I glow with borrowed grace, The moon still wears my stolen face.

~Aashi

[juliettescalling]

The boy had a habit, wanting what shone, So he asked for a fate where he could call her his own. The girl dreamt in secret, of a love so sweet, She wanted to fight but fell for his deceit. He painted her dreams in gold and light, Spoke of a kingdom where love burned bright. And so, she left, as she had once before, Trusting his words yet scared to want more. But then came the whispers, a price to be paid, A thousand ships for a choice she never made. She believed her grace would make him stay, If only for her face, she hoped he'd find a way. But his love was a lie, too fleeting to last, A kingdom built high, fading too fast. When he turned from her touch, without a word to say, It was an odd thing for her, someone walking away. And that’s when she saw, the truth behind the lies, To them, she was a name, a dream in disguise. His words were never for her, only for what he could see, Her beauty a painting, not a person to be. Now that I know, I must confess, I was the rarest of gems yet something to possess. A war for a face, never love’s desire, My heart forever lost within the city wearing fire.

~Aashi

[juliettescalling]

When I was younger, I loved to color, the way a blank page could become anything I wanted. The sky could be pink, the grass violet, the sun a bleeding red. Then they handed me a coloring book and told me to stay inside the lines. Suddenly, the sky was blue, the grass forever green and my wonder became a task to complete Then came dancing, wild, breathless, like falling in love with the wind. But soon, the lessons followed. "Point your toes. Count your beats. No, not like that, like this. Move like how I showed you." They taught me how to be wild… correctly Later, even my words weren’t safe. I hid my tales and strings of ink, but they too, began to bleed red. “You missed a punctuation here. This is not how stories are told. Stick to the given material.” Ironic, isn’t it? How everything I ever loved for its boundlessness, eventually came with a manual? ~Aashi

[juliettescalling]

"He's just a friend" I said, and it was the truth.

but its a joke to think you'll believe me, just a stupid girl in her youth.

So thank you for making me understand, that I can't learn math or take any notes, if I wear mascara or hold a boy's hand.

[juliettescalling]

The boy had a habit, always texting first

promising her the moon and the sky, quenching her every thirst

The girl had a history, of being a romantic

but never in real life so replying was just a clever tactic.

This time was different though, she could feel it in her heart

because every time he texted, her eyes lit up like art.

He wasn't as much to look at, maybe that's why he liked her,

Because he knew her beauty was price and was confident his words could pay the price.

So she played the game, same as always

trusting that he would stay if only for her face.

But he bowed out, which she couldn't stand

so she tore down the castle like little grains of sand.

And that's when she realised why he didn't stop her, because to him her words didn't matter

what mattered was what he believed

Did he fail? or did he get what he had perceived?

After all, what was her worth in the end?

just a pretty little doll playing pretend.

We've reached the end now so lets revise,

he made her a mere object he wanted, and she will forever hold that as a disguise. ~Aashi