just some words on a page, but they mean so much more than that✨🤎 :)
he said it wouldn’t happen, it was a never kind of thing, but now i sit on hills of snow, staring down the smug blue moon
By Harleen 🤎3 years ago in Poets
They say when lightning strikes, you only see it going back to the sky up from the ground. Maybe my Path wasn’t always in its way,
Lucious, the lips of my temptress From which she curses. Cloudy, the eyes of my vixen, From where I see reflections—
Where are we? Prickly grass, Soft caresses… Yellow, feathery whispers of pollen, Lazy lullaby tunes beaming off of wispy peels of ocean…
The girl with the bird. It often flies away. But almost always comes back. Almost always cause its been a few decades.
Up…and…down. The sun comes Up and down. The snowflakes Form and melt The rain Rises and falls. From clouds Of damp silk and loose yarn.
The still stars— Though they aren’t so still— They travel from far, their light already gone. Just their memory left to keep driving on,
The purple petals against the backs of our black and yellow… From miles away those stormy, spring nights Bring scents of fresh linen that’ve slipped off the line,
Untamed hair to my waist, Small brown eyes to the ground. Cold thin hands tucked away, Big lanky feet; don’t make a sound.
My mind isn’t a lovely place To walk through. you’ll run into a wall and then another and another And it’ll keep getting smaller
White threaded clouds, Knitted with precision, Soaks All that bleeds, All that cries, From the heavens above Where it seems only
It’s a machine. It can travel through time. It can teleport you through space. It’s a story. It can let you see the minds
