Alicia Rodgers
Bio
Hi All, I'm currently a Law student in the UK. Writing has always been a passion of mine ever since i can remember. If you'd like to contact me my social media is as follows: @CherryAura_
Stories (4)
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Art
"If I had to compare you to one thing in this world, I'd compare you to art." You are incomparable to any person I have ever met. You are strong; bold like the vibrant colours delicately spread across a blank page. You are wise, yet humorous. Your roots are so grounded yet you stretch out so far that you have no bounds. You are beautiful, indescribable, and immaculate. The way you make me feel when I look at you is what I truly believe love is; an overwhelming, burning radiance of adoration.
By Alicia Rodgers8 years ago in Humans
Her Lips
As I walked, I ran my fingertips over the smooth, glazed wood that defined the bar. The sound of drunken chatter and soft laughter was faded into the background as the constant clink of glasses slammed into my ears. The restaurant was dim, as if all the colours of the sun had weakened and were slowly slipping away.
By Alicia Rodgers8 years ago in Humans
A Wilting Rose
Quite a lot of things don't appear to make much sense. Your mind can spew a million deranged unfathomable epilogues; each to their own with their beautiful little tales or sharp, snapping edges. Your mind can save you, or destroy you. A lump of rotting flesh has the power to make us do or feel or think anything in the world. But like a rose so delicately arching up towards the warm caress of the sun; it strives for goodness and health but the thorns around its edges are so sharp no one dares not to let their soft skin bleed. Yet there will always be that one, stubborn yet innocent little child who will see the vast shades of Crimson melt into a ruby amongst its petals, and despite the sharp walls of defence they will try nevertheless to pluck it for themselves and admire its beauty in all of its glory. Then of course, things grow old, weary, and the rose will lose its benevolent pulchritude. The child will dismiss what is no longer beautiful to the eye and leave the Rose to wilt into its final seconds of life, innocent beauty, colourful hopes, and dreams.
By Alicia Rodgers8 years ago in Poets
