I write based on heart. I love based on thought. I think based on truth.
It’s hard to imagine, what life is for. We want so much, and yet feel so sore When we are left abandoned on the lonely shore
By Mihaela Vasileva6 years ago in Poets
Malicious Flower, why do you cry? Were you too forward, Or perhaps too shy? Malicious Flower, you don’t have to speak.
Ice. That’s how it stings. Rather, I wish it burned. I wish for my skin to feel the warm sensation of a burning flame
Perhaps, now I know what the aches of the heart are and how easy it is to control them. I had told myself the same story over the course of my life.
The witch, she knocks politely at three Asks if we have any green tea. We leave her with doubt and subtlety There was some, but it’s only for thee.
Do you call it a failure By the fault you find in it? Or by the colours Which mismatches the rest of the paints On your canvas.
Open your eyes to see the light. Close them to protect yourself. We often think it right To close books on the shelf.
I know confusion, Well and full. It grows like roses In the pale moonlight. My mind is a bubble Constantly floating about
Gently, freely The snow falls on my face. How sweet, how pure, how calm It can erase The struggles, the fears that errors bring.
Do you ever ask If a leaf knows its end? In winter, Do you ever wonder if it’ll grow its green again? Do you ever ask
Begin phase one: what is your name? You answer politely. You know this game. Begin phase two: how old are you? You answer politely.
Does it matter what I say? You’ll be here, and go away. It’s fine if that’s not the way. I shouldn’t hope that you’ll stay.
