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Wallflower MAG
I feel a burning burst of red
blooming deep within the folds
of the four crimson corners.
Doors wag frantically,
drums run offbeat, and wild,
as my mind skirts through lists:
my wardrobe, my words,
my whimsical upturn of the lips
at you. Your presence,
shot across my vision, like a teasing glimmer.
Sometimes, I want to reach out
and snatch you from the uneasy haze,
and rock you in with a gentle zephyr
even if you press deep into the stem,
even if I waver under your weight,
even if I bend and bleed.
But then, I also like to imagine you perched
upon the dry dunes of my palms.
so that if I flex my fingers to the clouds
and bring my five petal flesh to my nose,
I'd remain your sky;
and if I snap my fingers in
and dig my nails into my honeysweet center,
you'd be a mere fly,
dim and frail,
lured by the lustrous, yellow cheeks of the tulip.
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This article has 6 comments.
Love the poem!!!! I could visualize each stanza, your contagious imagery soaking deep into the hollow contents of my soul. I have just submited two poems, as I would like you, and any one for whom reads this comment, to give me feed back. You see, the first stanze from "Living as if Dead" was simply a typo, as there thrived two additional sentences before it was published. I am however a very "clueless" or "oblivious" writer, rather, as your time and comment would mean the WORLD to me.
Sincerely,
Liz
P.S if u do read my poems, I beg of you to be COMPLETELY honest!!! I will be fully fine if you are harsh with te force of your words!!
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