Beneath her pale white skin She felt a warm familiar flutter A reminder that she had a heart It danced rythmically She sighed with relief "I missed you so much" She whispered to herself
I fear for my country by PagesOfDreams, literature
Literature
I fear for my country
I'm tired I'm tired of the fear I have tightly in my chest of the terror that I could lose my reproductive rights of the panicked thought that fascism will overtake America I'm tired I'm tired of the dread that peaceful protesters will be jailed more and more that gay and trans communities will continue to lose rights that people of color will continue to be abused I'm tired I'm tired of the lies people eat up from the president's mouth the ignorance that he loves to spread the hatred he revels in spewing the egomaniac that he is I'm tired I'm scared
Solace in the bottom
of a wine glass.
Beauty in taste.
Blackberry, cherry, oak, strawberry,
butter, butterscotch, vanilla,
Colors,
Flavors.
Loneliness.
Love.
Pain.
Agoraphobia.
How do I feel anyway?
Fear.
Maybe.
Asthma. Vulnerable. Virus possible. Infection.
I just want normalcy again.
Love is always changing
Quiet
Like the petals of a lily
Louder
Like the sound if your sigh
Even louder
Like the taste of Merlot
Even louder
In your touch on my thighs
Soft
In the kiss on my neck
Even Softer
In the touch on my breast
Deeper
Is your soul in my temporal lobe
Vibrant
Is the look in your eyes
We all know that legends never die, and that potential leaders need to rise. Does that awaken the phoenix in your soul? Does that cause the fire to take control? Or do you feel yourself slowly sink into the ground?
It's been so long (Mature) by PagesOfDreams, literature
Literature
It's been so long (Mature)
It's been too long, my legs wrap around you tightly. I'm engulfed by you, I close my eyes to feel the intensity, the pleasing song inside of me. The warmth in me radiates, crying to seep out. Je t'aime mon amour.
Pointed ears, caressed by silver, gold, and jewels; Delicate smooth skin, the color of tree bark. The smell of patchouli gently drifted past her nose; Angel kissed sunlight embraced the leaves.
I think I stood in the middle of traffic, waving at myself. What I tried to say to myself, I don’t know. Wait, or was that a mirror? If this is a mirror, why do I feel like I’m being crushed by wheels? Why do I feel like I’m looking both ways and there isn’t an opening for me to merge? Why do I feel like I’m floating in the air in slow motion, waiting for my body to hit the pavement? It’s like I’m in many places at once. I’m living in the past and the future. The present, the future, the past. The past, the present, the future. I can see my nose, but I can’t see my nose, my brain hurts. I can feel my brain in my head, yet it’s floating there, it’s not sitting on anything. I’m just arms and legs and a transparent nose.
We swallowed fireflies,
watched them become
red esophagus lights
on the way down.
We pulled off wings of fairies
and cut them into tiny
glitter-dust pieces.
We blew up
the stars, the moon
and then, and then
There was no longer
enough light to guide us
in the night.
My eyes are crystal;
scraping against the howling wind;
it moves and speaks to me
about the tree angels,
the tree angels
that will grant me wings
to fly
above the screeching ocean
that opens its mouth wide
to swallow me up;
to pull me down deeper
and deeper
into oblivion.