Curled hair the colour of rotting straw

Scorched and trodden upon by 'The Law;'

Gleaming eyes like poisoned amethyst 

Tips scrunched in a glee-kissed bliss;

A playful smirk set to entice,

Don't let your guard down, or pay the price;

A scheming Queen who seized the toppled throne,

A false light, sparkling but not shining, 'shone.'

She is a menace, utterly deluded, they say: You'll bring glory?

Save it for another perfect tall-tale story; 

So to the Queen who lounges about that vemon-laced place

Smiling hard and basking in riches to save royal face;

Who sits up high in a crumbling vine-ridden Palace,

As if her 'return' can ever inspire brilliance instead of malice;

We can only hope then she'll hear out the plan, 

There is only one thing to say, while you still can:

"Escape" 

The Nowhere-lands is where I go

When nothing else is left afloat;

When the seas swallow the Real and Imaginary lands 

And the only place I can flee to

is the desert filled with parched earth and endless sands,

Because I know the floods can't reach here

Even as the Universe crumbles all around me

This desert, so cracked and empty only frames of anything is left,

will be in the clear

Sometimes it's dark and cold, but open all the same

Sometimes it's bright and hot, but empty all the same

There's never anything but endless dust and sands and broken earth

As if complaining of this place's nothing-worth;

With only hollowed husks of long-dead trees

Left here to lone-ily accomp'ny me.

gosh it's been a LONG time since i've written poetry... but i've been reading this thread some! y'all are amazing.

a year without snow

when i was younger i used to think

in the part of my mind that wasn't rainbows and fairies

that a winter passed without snow

would be our doom.

i loved the routine miracles of the seasons,

the way you expected autumn, lived for it,

and yet couldn't stop staring at the fiery hues

and wondering at the shivers of my bare arms.

and how one day in march i'd wake up

and see the yellow flowers complete with the glossy dew of my dreams

and it was a miracle.

and how every winter i'd hang up my stocking,

close my eyes and cross my fingers and pray to God or the fairies or Mother Nature,

"if you're up there, can this year be snow?"

there wouldn't be that day, but

just once a year, without fail 

i'd imagine God had answered with magical frozen dust,

and i'd stare at the coating of dreams and hope and childhood

just in case it was the last.

winter, 2020-21.

the snow never came. only numbness.

are we in the dystopia of my childhood?  

Sometimes I think about what happened

How you left us-- abandoned us--

In the snow, in the blinding white

All without a word.

Sometimes I think about the trial

When you swooped in-- you looked like a saviour--

Like we finally got our lucky break

I wonder if I could have been spared this pain if I hadn't chosen you. 

Sometimes I think about how angry I am

How much hate I hold in this small body,

How I wish I'd seen before, just how terrible you really are;

Itcouldhaveturnedoutsomuchbetterifonly-

. . . Nevermind.

Sometimes I think about how I'll never forgive you.

Despite all we're taught and told,

It's ok to be angry sometimes.

And it's ok not forgive all the time, everytime, too.

@lumi <3

--

the only friend i've ever had that i can trust with my everything is you

not to put pressure on your shoulders or anything but

i love you

(platonically, ofc.)

and how, when i'm feeling like crap and the hurricane is building in my brain,

you say something? i'm never even on here but when i am it's your words i look for

like all my problems can be fixed with your text hearts

(and really, they can.) 

and this isn't even good poetry, i could do better, should do better, probably will cringe in the morning

because gosh, this is just another ramble written when i'm supposed to be sleeping, oops

but i'll sacrifice sleep for you

(anything, honestly.) 

i don't know the point of this, i never do- but maybe you'll understand?

cause sometimes i feel like you know me better than my irl friends

them, i don't trust with anything

(you, it's a different story)

-

felt the need to pour my love onto you! don't know if you'll see this but thx for being such a great friend :D

(random but whatever) 

If I were an only child

My parents would hate me.

I would scream like she does.

Stomp and glare and scowl and cry like she does.

Talk back

And complain when

Asked to do my part.

To do anything, really.

But I don't.

(Though sometimes I wish I did, I could.)

Because I see my parents,

Tired and unable to make her do it.

And how can I add to that?

I, the perfect little girl,

Smart, friendly, helpful,

Well-behaved.

I break down, I get tired,

Sometimes I just don't want to.

But I do.

And I'm good,

And she is too,

But sometimes she's not,

So I stay "perfect".

Because I have to be better.

Because I can't be a burden.

The hot angry molten... -ness

Scream rage and fury and pain and 'mess'

But the dawn-broke sky, with its sweet pinks and yellows

Contrasts shyly with its soothing demure 'mellow' 

It's curious how such fuming scalding colours

Can so seamlessly co-exist with peaceful lovely faded water-colours

You say

These colours dance

You say

They mix together beautifully

But I don't believe you. 

I see gray flowing into gray

Like chunky and smooth mud

Strained through an old-fashioned camera.

It isn't beautiful,

They aren't truly colours either.

It's just an ugly, oozing mess 

Oh, to see her again,

what would I give?

I should pull the sun from the sky

And present it to her

The beat of my heart

Tap-tapping out the rhythm of my soul