Beauty, it comes in many terms...It could be soft, or sometimes frail. Love isn't lust and if it is, it's lust, dust and pixie dust. Now my words may seem to be unclear, but that is far from what is near. Love seems to have one meaning in a world of hatred, to be loved by another who is always near, why can't it be distance and it still beautifully unclear. With long lost love waits to appear with those of beauty secrets to hold so dear, wanting to tell them...I am near. Waited, and waited watching changes appear, to look out from inside and waiting for the time to arrive. To breathe and touch what you've waited for all these years, finally wanting to touch it, and realize that it's finally here. With a uniqueness of its own made for you, like as if you were made together, attached as two, waiting for your half to appear. Now don't get too close, for it's beauty far from what appears to the eye, it has thorns you know... so be careful, for its beauty is rare. Much more special then a diamond or pearl. So don't take it for granted, it may only appear in years or life time. So keep it hidden in plan sight, but beware of one's beauty, for it can disappear... Never to be seen again, not a peep nor a cry...Never to appear, you had one chance, and let it all disappear, for one small blow made the end come near...
About the Creator
Rose With Thorns
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind...
Keep reading
More stories from Rose With Thorns and writers in Poets and other communities.
Meant to Be Seen, But Never Spoken
Now listen here, we all have hidden secrets. Untold, even "disappeared" not for long, you see everything comes out eventually. Hidden figures under the rug, like skeletons, one by one piling waiting to appear. Is there a point in telling them, to one's eye, or ear. Maybe one day, it will all boil over, like a volcano erupting in fear. Fear, that one might feel, or death will fall near, drowning you inside leaving you distant, and far from near. Wanting to tell the truth, but others won't believe you, you're telling tall tales from another's point of view. So you have two choices, have your voice be heard and come clean, or wait for it to appear as if you were a liar, since the start of time. You weren't there, but I was, so I saw what you did, one day you'll pay for your regrets, because you see, I did. I loved and loved gave it all I got and for what... to become unnoticed as if I was never there. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'll say it again, my sorrys are meaningless, till the very end. I tried to be strong and not be frail, I promise you this till this day I will not fail. I'll tell the truth, I dealt the hand I've been given. It's up to me to decide which way I want to be driven. Lead, to be leader, don't follow the crowd, stop your shushing I've had enough, my mind is made, there's no turning back now, for I made my bed. I must lie down, for it was I who decided to stay quiet, with a smile even though I want to frown. Smile it eases the pain as I lie down. Wondering my fate, and where I stand now... I tell the truth again, because dead men tell no truths... there just left behind and forgotten, sometimes never to be found.
By Rose With Thorns8 years ago in Poets
Autonomy Is The Real Privilege
Good morning, freedom-seekers! Today we’re gonna be looking at autonomy. A strange word, I know; one many would probably look at blankly and run away from on sight. We’re gonna figure out what it actually means, consider how it’s achieved, and decipher just how deeply most of us are tangled up in dependence without realising it.
By That ‘Freedom’ Guy7 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.