sheslamss

i feel the word dancing beneath my fingers unboxed from the infant thoughts of mind the world i lay upon you is the one you should grow up to be

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  • sheslamss 16w

    My Perfect Stranger

    I remember
    The third of November
    Like it is yesterday
    We were nothing but two strings of fates
    Passing by
    Side by side
    With only a little shove to bring us closer

    I still remember the sparkle in your eyes
    Head thrown back with laughter
    How I solemnly swore I'd make you mine then
    Silent
    As the night was when I let my feet drag me to your side
    Hope etched so deeply onto my face
    One would say I was it
    Personified
    Only for a cold no to put as back where we started
    Two strings of fate floating in space
    Praying that someone would entwine themselves to them
    ©sheslamss

  • sheslamss 16w

    Love like silence is sometimes too comforting, especially if you have been subject to chaotic wars in the past with all their benevolence glory.
    ©sheslamss

  • sheslamss 16w

    This lake reminds me of Veronica, her blue ocean eyes and the sparkle in them whenever she would sit by this lake. I feel her here more than anywhere else, the calm of the waters occasionally swaying to the wind like the tips of her pin straight hair.

    I see her here more than anywhere else, clad in a flowy chiffon dress that teased the wind to blow through it. Her tiny feet, always dipped in the mesmerising blue of the small lake. Waves crashing around her in salute of beauty not of this world. Her smile brighter than the words that paint the pages on which she slaves on. Heartbreak, heart break, heart break the only thing she's ever known.

    I sit by the shore even now, and I hear the sound of her voice as the wind whispers the verses to her poetry which tug at my heart strings even now as I remember her say "be still my love, for i die every time you bleed" but I bleed everytime she dies.

    My tears fill the lake now, the only thing keeping it from drying as fhe sun scorches like the sorrow that ripped my sweet Veronica from my arms that held her dear but not close enough for her to stay. I stay here I sing here, and I cry here in memory of a girl with a smile so bright but eyes that spoke of pain hard enough to make a seasoned warrior crumble.




    #storytime #wod #lakeveronica #mirakee #miraquill #love
    @miraquill @writersnetwork @writerstolli

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    Be still my love for I die every time you bleed

    But I bleed everytime you die
    ©sheslamss

  • sheslamss 16w

    To my love

    Your fingertips are embers to a flame
    and I burn everytime
    You touch me I'm not the same,
    My skin yours to mould and claim,
    Every crevice, nook and cranny ,
    I'm yours to tame
    If love is a song I'll scream your name,
    With no shame
    The fire inside the only thing to blame.
    ©sheslamss

  • sheslamss 17w

    The Starless Night

    I borrowed a handful of blue sky from my last lover and when he left I was shocked to see that the endless stretch of blue had turned grey. What was once a bright and shiny shade of blue with a lustre that calmed demons I never knew I had was now a thundering grey of doom pouring heavily onto my head.

    I know where I made the wrong step, borrowing a patch of sky then building off that doomed me from the start but when you're wrapped in a sea of black and even the end of the tunnel is far from your reach it's only stereotypical that I would hold on tightly to the first person to lend theirs.

    I regret not reading the terms of agreement when I signed that contract with a kiss that put stars on the night sky that owned me. I wish I wasn't so lost in a perfect white smile and brown pools with come hither intent glazing at me. I wish I'd read that the grounds on which I borrowed that sky was return once owner is five feet apart.

    Now I'm I'm stuck with a grey sky slowly darkening to the same dark night that plagued me from the start and it's saddening that it's only a matter of time before another last lover comes by and lends me a patch of sky only to leave me once more with a dark starless night.
    ©sheslamss

  • sheslamss 17w

    Sorumeito

    I don't know what breaks my heart most, the sight of tears on your pretty brown eyes that entrance me everytime,
    or that 21 years later and still the smile on those pinkish lips is as real as the myths and the legends told to us by our elders.

    You claim every time with that silver tongue that it's all okay, the lies you feed to me you believe more, so much so that you're blind to the sorrow edged in tiny lines across your forehead, the same sorrow that pales the chestnut brown of your skin.

    I'd say what makes you weak in the knees is the fact that despite the fake and stiff smiles that grace your complexion, knowing that I'll still be there on the other side if the bed we lay in is at the top, the thought of being alone arousing utter terror that the memory of your body shaking against mine, head resting on my chest as I play with the curls of your hair to lull you back to sleep is etched so deeply into my mind.

    Maybe the wind that blows the layers of your gown, as we play by the beach each morning, the dampness makes it clung to to your curves that still entrance me even now would blow away the deep and dark thoughts that plague your mind every time.
    ©sheslamss

  • sheslamss 17w

    Sweet Sunday Morning

    It was an ordinary Sunday morning when Zee looked outside her rusted old window and saw a little girl in the house next to hers, trying to slice apples perfectly into pieces of equal size. She smiled faintly and recalled her older self, skin on her forehead pierced into concentration, eyes never wavering from the movement of the sharp blade gripped between her nimble fingers.
    Her mother would sit by the kitchen island, glasses perched atop the bridge of her noise as she went through the taxes and bills for the week. A glass of whatever concoction rested besides the mountains of papers and receipts. Her dad would be by the rocking chair in the living room, old gospel music playing softly in the background, high enough to keep him entertained but low enough to lull him into a sweet slumber.
    Zee would get done and pass every slice through utmost and thorough inspection before a little smile would play on her lips. Gathering the tiny plastic plates, she'd divide them so all three would have some. Her dad when he woke up at least. And on the rug by the unlit fireplace, a book in hand and her perfect slices resting on the plate placed carefully on her stomach. The ordinary Sunday morning turned into a memorable family routine once more.
    ©sheslamss

  • sheslamss 18w

    Will you be mine?

    "Can I call you baby?"
    Can we sit under the open sky and let our lips get acquainted with one another?
    Can I learn every nook and cranny of your skin under the sun?
    Can the tips of my fingers memorize the contours and planes of your face?
    Can my ears get addicted to the rumble of your voice?
    Can we spend hours and hours under the sheets in each others arms cause nothing else matters as long as we're there?
    Can together be the forever that I can get myself used to?
    Can I have my last breath to the sound of your tears hitting my skin?
    ©sheslamss

  • sheslamss 18w

    Darlington

    Hold me
    Let me rest gently in your arms like the lilies drifting above water in the mountains I dream,
    Carry me away like the current drives the waves, fast and wild, slow, steady and calm only to crash at the coast from a never ending high,
    Sing to me tales of lost warriors that found love in arms like yours, darling touch me with the delicacy of an artist adding the final piece to a masterpiece,
    Touch me like I could fade away this instant, like I'm but a dream on so many of your fantasies,
    Whisper,
    Whisper to me secrets held dear between the callousness of the skin of your palms and my skin, for I'm but a fragment of your imagination.
    ©sheslamss

  • sheslamss 77w

    Overthinking

    she sat atop the flat shaped floor,
    her thoughts buzzing
    like the bees above
    they screamed
    they shouted
    they sang
    they danced
    but peace was never in their mind.

    "Why do you insist to sit by your own?"

    it's because
    my lips
    don't say what i think

    my mind has taken over my lips
    but the words I think
    aren't the words i say
    ©sheslamss