moonlight smiles bright as hawthorn petals
and she spirals loose from her tethers
her fingers whisper, trailing sighs
flowers bloom and die at her feet
her lips rain scarlet
you are loved the sky murmurs
and i cannot help but believe
moonlight smiles bright as hawthorn petals and she spirals loose from her tethers her fingers whisper, trailing sighs flowers bloom and die at her feet her lips rain scarlet you are loved the sky murmurs and i cannot help but believe |
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Comments
i love it:]
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telling detail. fresh detail. the good writers touch it often. the mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. the bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies. ~bradbury 451
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"Art is a step from what is obvious and well-known toward what is arcane and concealed."
Kahlil Gibran
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telling detail. fresh detail. the good writers touch it often. the mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. the bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies. ~bradbury 451
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"Art is a step from what is obvious and well-known toward what is arcane and concealed."
Kahlil Gibran
i am also curious, and find that the ambiguity of the last line really completes the poem. i see any of the following options possible. either you believe the fey, or the fey's tendency to believe the sky, or the fey's tendency to love themselves (or be full of themselves depending on the situation)
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O' course it doesn't make sense. Where's the sense in making any?
i stuck it under prose cuz i couldn't fingure out how i wanted to classify it and everything else i have is under general fiction, again i dont know why
glad you like it though! it was fun to write something much shorter than anything else i've written
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telling detail. fresh detail. the good writers touch it often. the mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. the bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies. ~bradbury 451
--
O' course it doesn't make sense. Where's the sense in making any?
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