chasing shadows in grocery lines⭐��

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  • _falguni_ 2w

    A summer song,
    Waltzing in the rain
    Swirling around
    Impregnating the flower bed
    With Hyacinths and lilies

    Red flags everywhere,
    Of poppy petals and illicit affairs
    Flare by the side walk like a may fair.
    The by passers watch and whine
    While the culprits lower their hats and hide.

    June has always been a story
    Of forbidden things and sins.
    Men and women alike,
    Lose their morality
    To dance on June's tunes and whims.

    June is the seductress of the year,
    Doping people and robbing their hearts
    She comes to play mix and match,
    The shade of pain looks pink through her blinders.

    An unfinished story, a caught infidelity
    Are all a part of June's plan
    She is a poetry that takes you to bed.
    A poetry that breaks your dawn, elsewhere.

    She is a bubblegum chapstick
    And a cotton candy kiss
    She is all about holding hands
    And kissing in public places.

    She is about wearing shades and long hats,
    And those lipstick marks
    On his James Dean look
    That make him run to the washer
    Before his wife can.

    June is destructive
    A death kiss marked on every kiss
    A slow poison that kills every year
    A grave unmarked, full of skeletons
    As closets are already full.

    Come September,the pink shades come off
    The scars of pain now look blue
    The old wounds open up and start to bleed
    Oh September, don't do this to me.

    The rest of the year goes by,
    Thinking about him and the things we did.
    Next year, I'll find some Johnny Cash
    And be his June for a while.

    -Cruel Summer

  • _falguni_ 2w

    I want to tell you about her.
    The girl who never stood still.
    She climbed every mountain
    And swam in every sea
    Till her feet grew tired
    Restless and a rebel was she.

    This girl, had eyes like tawny whiskey
    A Tuscan earthly tone it was
    When sun fed,
    They'd turn copper fire.
    You could see the sun in them.

    The sun knew her by her name
    But so did the moon.
    The stars knew what she was made up of
    The wind knew it too.

    She'd dance on every grass blade,
    Spin herself around
    The Dew covered her yellow and white
    With a hint of golden dawn.

    An unapologetic rebel,
    That could kill any threat.
    She'd lick her wounds and tie them up
    She was a scar covered in skin they say.

    A beauty she was,
    Made of scars
    That marked her skin like tattoos
    Of some unattended past.
    a living epitome,
    telling us all
    That your scars are beautiful
    Whether you hide them or not.

    She knew nothing about love
    But oh,she loved the woods so dearly.
    She thought she was a forest fairy.
    But little did she know
    She was the queen that commanded the trees.

    She grew wings on her 16th birthday they say
    From a scarred back and hunted skin.
    The wolves howled and called her
    For she was a mystery, unraveling.

    The one who once bathed in moonlight
    Was now chasing after the moon
    Enchanted was the sky that night
    With a hint of purple and cinnamon hue.

    The story of the girl who never settled
    Lives somewhere in the forest
    It thrives to stay alive in the wild
    It demands to be recited everytime
    For little girls who think
    Their wild is a sin.

    But I yearn to tell these little girls
    Their wild is what they are.
    For staying untamed in the world's circus
    Is a brave thing to be.
    Don't let these thieves tell you otherwise
    Don't give them your potions.
    Think about the girl who never settled.
    Dare to be like her.

  • _falguni_ 4w

    I wish to be loved in a way,
    They write books about.
    I want to feel that longing in a way
    That makes rhinestones more precious than diamonds.
    I wish to feel a heartache
    That stays forever within me.
    The one I talk and warn my grandkids about
    The one I secretly hope they all feel.

    I wish to have an incomplete story
    That I will take to my grave
    The one that will suffice somewhere within that hyphen
    Between the dates of my birth and death.
    I wish to yearn for a soul
    That taught me to love
    It's okay if we could not last all our summers
    A memory of an autumn would be enough.

    I wish to hold a book
    In my rocking chair, as close as I can
    With a forbidden photograph of a man
    That I loved and cherished even with my wrinkled hands
    Even my amnesia wouldn't be able
    To erase him from my muscle.

    I wish to feel love so strong
    That it bleeds and seeps in my bones
    A love that weeps with me
    And a love that smiles through me.

    I look at him while I write this down,
    Hoping he will notice,
    The type of love i crave for
    Will he be able to give?

  • _falguni_ 4w

    A winter stricken heart
    That reflects like gold,
    A cold gust of wind that makes it tremble
    It falls to the ground
    And becomes a million snowflakes
    That seep in the cracks beneath the surface.
    Now tell me darling,
    What will grow from this ground?
    A whole new heart?
    Or shards of glass?

  • _falguni_ 4w

    They tried to bring her down while she tried to stay afloat.
    But little did they know,
    you cannot drown the sea and
    She was the sea.

  • _falguni_ 4w

    And you dare to sympathize with a moon
    That begs for light.
    While you curse the sun
    That burns to shine.

  • _falguni_ 5w

    I tend to reach for the stars
    The heights, inevitable.
    But if I can't grab them,
    I'll settle on a handful of clouds.
    The scars, visible.

  • _falguni_ 6w

    "Oh, she was a wildflower that I was trying to bookmark. And trust me, never do that."

    Leave and love them with their wild.

    ~things that they don't tell you

  • _falguni_ 8w

    "Snowflakes are bones of wilted flowers mourning for you, all over you."

    //No doubt I'm always soaked//

  • _falguni_ 9w

    She says I'm a letter.
    The type of letter that she prefers to read in bed
    With just her panties and a crumbling pastry smirk on.
    The type that makes her call me a dirty boy.
    She says I'm a letter
    That begs her to play with herself.
    Every word in it is a tattoo on her skin, she says
    Clawing her and making her clench her fist.
    She then rubs my wrist and tells me I'm a letter
    That she would never dare to post.