Beauty is upon you like the fiery flames above the fields burning in the sun and stars, radiating, bright with dewy skin emitting vibrations on frequencies of a musical scale.
Beauty is upon you Luke an illumination of your soul and the the ray of the blood moon lining your skin with dancing memories passing between treasures and measures of time.
Beauty is upon you like the smell of rain and a loving and caring passion of a woman, although it's not facial beauty, but a warm light in your heart. For it's sorcery to be so pretty on the outside and be so ugly on the inside.
Beauty is upon you Like the window whose glass is all sparkly and shiny when the sun goes out but whose true beauty springs forth only when there's light from within.
I learnt to live without you, but I never forgot you. That's the funny thing about Love because it took me a long time to forgive and forget the pain you caused, but a piece of you always remains within me. I couldn't brush off all the good memories we shared and sweep them under the rug as if they meant nothing. So I put you in a safe place for new memories to be built with someone new. You see, I deserve to be happy again, even if it's not with you. And when I reminisce about the good 'ol times every now and then, it simply means I've not forgotten who you used to be... Tu me manques maintenant et toujours...
Maintenant - now Toujours - always Tellement- really #miss#wod
The musky air was ripe with the pleasant, dewy petrichor of the post-rain evening which in turn became clear, bright and transient Like the soft fall of dew drops cooling my brows...
And darling, may you dance lightly on edges of time like dew on a leaf's tip sublime Up above the clouds so high, where the dewdrops touch your skin so bare and my eyes flutter like cornflowers, crusted with their own stale dew aware, as I behold with wonder and love, the magical mist beneath the clouds...
My submission for the unique challenge hosted by @jaya___
There was a time when you were hopeful, thinking that the silver lining won't pose as a distant dream.
But there was a time when I wasn't even hopeful about Hope. Life is not fair, and I learnt it the hard way. I accuse Life for being guilty of larceny. It took some extremely priced possessions from me that I once held close to my heart.
Albeit, soon I found that what I held dear to me was the reason for my misery. I was so inebriated by them that I relinquished my grasp on pragmatism. Living in illusions and fantasies was something I adhered to for so long as I felt that nothing else would grant me euphoria.
Hence, it was necessary. For me to experience the epiphany that, even though brought me utmost torment, made me realise where I should invest verity. Something that gave me a verisimilitude view at the inception, was in fact a conductor of arson.
So I decided to placate my mind by sprinkling the powder of Hope. My imperfections made me debonair. And I felt that it is a discombobulating struggle to keep perfection alive. That is the sole reason why I have decided to 'Go with the flow'.
I paint the sky with the Romantic nights, Stars are smiling behind the Thundering nights. I am just an imperfect insomniac But,when i see myself Sleeping on the bed of His eyes, lenses are my colourful Blanket, and i groom my self Into being perfect.
I paint my nights with the Poets pain,i will steal some Silver colour from the moon To write my poetries on His imperfect brown skin with my white quill, When he is just Twirling his tongue Over his lips,i can taste The flavour of his lips On mine.
The neighbour sleeping next to me, Wakes me up, ohh! I just forgot That i am the shining Star of the Constellation,ohh yes i am in the graveyard It was the nostalgia of his memories That have made home inside me I just utter my pain in the form Of poetry,i am the imperfect poet With the perpetual pain but my poetries Are just perfect.
//on the frame of life i see that we are not smiling together,u loved my flaws and i loved your imperfection//
I'm reeking of rotten fuchsias and sweaty armpits from the time sun has been breathing within the chest of somnolent shores almost everyday, I'm shredding ungerminated seeds one after another apart from my will when clouds wail along with me at bay.
My past is a woman festooned with beautiful scars, following me when towns exhale murk in air and I overpower her with a sluggish smile as my weapon. She took birth in the aftermath of war as a treaty of defeat, & swords do recite tales of her which the world has abandon- ed to believe.
This city is dawning darkness upon me under the courtesy of belligerent sun and I'm crushing betwixt the demure of my own delirious shorelines, but I'm trying to run towards Archimedes asking how to put off the weight of this buoyant forces, hoping he will lend me a hand out of welkin. ~Purva