I drape my fingertips
With ink and paint
That has been
Fashioned from
My feelings
For you
And you,
You become the canvas
I paint on.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
Follow me on Instagram.
Month: May 2016
Sunday, every day Sunday.
The odour
Of your departure
Lingers in the air
Your broken promises
Float in front
Of my eyes-
I reach out
And curl my fist
Around a few of them
And desperately shove it
Inside my mouth
But they dissolve
To nothingness
On my tongue
And I’m left
With the taste
Of your sweet lies.
*
Strength comes knocking
Once in a while
But the heartbreak
That always seems to
Linger just behind
The door,
Pushes it away-
I can hear the thud
As my strength
Hits the front porch
Muttering curses
Under its breath
For ever having tried.
*
I spend my days
Drinking loneliness
Like whiskey,
Singing haunted songs
To the sky,
Eating poetry for lunch-
For me, now,
Sunday mornings
Will always smell
Like your absence.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
This poem was selected and published by The Anonymous Writer on their website. You can read it by clicking here.
Follow me on Instagram.
Masterpiece.
Colour me With the tips Of your fingers- Paint my lips With the hope That lingers On your own- Brush my cheeks With brilliant hues Of love- Make me glow With the warmth That runs Through your veins- Wrap my soul With a riot of … Continue reading Masterpiece.
How the skies turned blue.
It is said that The skies were once A blur of oranges Mixed with lilacs Sprinkled with vermillions With a pinch of Periwinkle thrown in. Yellows occasionally danced Inviting the emeralds along. Amber streaks Sang across the skies, And auburns would Join in for the … Continue reading How the skies turned blue.
Wanderlust.
Wanderlust flows Like blood In my veins- My cerise lips Taste like love And heartbreak- My cerulean eyes hold A hundred secrets To cities undiscovered- My cheeks are smeared With a thousand shades Of magic- And my soul Is dripping With a million colours That … Continue reading Wanderlust.
