Month: February 2016


You infiltrated my heart

Found your way in

Through the tiny cracks

Until my heart was

Full of you.

But now that you’re gone

My heart is empty

Loneliness is slowly

Eking its way in

Through the very same

Doors you walked out of.

You left and let

The Lonely in

My whole body is swimming

In loneliness now

Sometimes it slowly comes

Leaking through my eyes

And, other times

My fingers bleed loneliness

Onto pages and pages

Of blank white paper.

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

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They say

You can’t see love

Only feel it

Buy every time

I see your lips

Curl into a smile

And your eyes crinkle

Just before laughter

Comes pouring out,

I prove them wrong.


They say

You can’t taste love

Only feel it

But every time

You apply a

Fresh coat of love

On my lips

With your own,

I prove them wrong.


They say

You can’t touch love

Only feel it

But every time

The tips of your fingers

Graze mine

And our hands

Fit into each others’

Like two pieces of

A jigsaw puzzle,

I prove them wrong.

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

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Also, it’s my Mom’s birthday today. Wish her, y’all. 😀


Poetry is not written

With words

Its written with feelings

Dipped in heartbreak,

With a pinch of fear

Thrown in, with sorrow

Seeping in through the

Edges, and packaged with

Loneliness, complete with a

Bow of melancholy

On top.

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

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There are

26 alphabets

And more than

A million


In the English


But, for the

Life of me

I can find

Not a single


To describe

The way your

Eyes change colour

When the sun

Catches it

As you suddenly

Stop, and twirl

In the middle

Of the road

With your


Echoing inside

My hollow bones,

Filling it

With love

Till I explode

With happiness.

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

I have my exams going on, so I won’t be able to read your posts. I’ll see you guys next week. Miss me, okay? 

Volcanic Love.

You smell like love-

like beautiful,

empty promises

filled with

grisly remorse

pumped full of

electrifying pheromones


You taste like

forgotten dreams

forged in a

beautiful disaster

with lava running

through your veins

as bubbles erupt from

your porous eyes,


and the reverie

nestled behind

my naive eyes

scrambles toward

your metamorphic facade

hoping to break

through the visage

of bittersweet

permeable lies

swimming through

such viscous scum.

© Miss Book Thief and Christopher Rupley

(This is my first collaboration with Christopher from The Brown Bag Special. Click here to check his work, he is amazing.)