Sitting under a blanket, Hands quivering in the snub winter I used to admire it most before it docks on the grassy fields of areas tracked down above sea level where Zephyr warmly comes backs and forth Like your odor urging the blood of me to stream down the whole system Enduring the memento of love with untamed scars rather than known Universe beholden when clashed
empty pages no more envy the resolutions Of froze out vows and thawed ink engaged in the war Between turn on exploring the world and solely love seeking identity simply fits the corpse like mistletoe confirming the Christmas tree.
subtle fragments sometimes pretends as a hidden veil wrapping up metaphorical notions when bodily ink crave it most enfold within icicles frozen to minus Celsius plaguing the letters eager to get posted and surpass her mailbox
_iexistIt will soon be coming up with an answer, write up, question and suggestion and also thanks for explaining because I was a bit confused already with the prompt challenge topic so thank you bro @outofleague ✨✌
I'm sorry but would you allow me to narrate the tragedies of the Norse gods before kissing you under the mistletoe on a snowy Christmas eve, because you look lovelier when you whine like an impatient little girl.
I'm sorry but would you allow me to sing silent night or jingle bells in the most terrible of voices because when you laugh like there are no strings attached, no regrets, no expectations, it's more soothing than any Christmas carol.
I'm sorry but would you let me sleep before December twenty-four collapses into the twenty-fifth, so that I could wake up to your face as my Christmas present; I know you'd laugh at me for waiting on Santa Clause, but I don't want to leave any stone unturned, that's why I'll pray, that with Christmas, fresh snow, happy countenances, festival lights, and myriads of presents, you come too, because my tree is still missing the star, and my heart is missing you.
What's the feeling that fills the air under that mistletoe tonight? A kiss from your beloved as you hold them very tight? Or, maybe, something more wild as fires of desire burns inside. Will you brag of adventurous rendezvous to friends or did you do something that you wish to hide?
What happens under the mistletoe in that place that you call your home? Nice and romantic or an escape hatch for naughtiness to roam? Remember that Santa will see everything that you do. Will coal in the stocking be waiting for you?
Like a mistletoe is our love Parasitic and mystic What others see is just warmth and tenderness But what I feel is just invisible constrictions You grab on me Like a mistletoe on the oak You enhance my beauty with your presence But you hollow me from inside You extract all you want and fell off On another victim of love Leaving behind only a void me That has lost both beauty and strength And people there celebrate your presence And mourn my demise ~Anshika
The trees with flowers white, grew on my backyard... I thought those were mistletoes I never noticed them in past, But it wasn't that hard... The trees were marked by a rose Something came upon my mind , about my similar life... I also have some mistletoes around my life daily Those whom I never noticed but they stayed by my side... I do have some cons n pros which they handled as Ailey. ☄️