Her lips are utterly silent
Thoughts inside
Are colliding
The world is so big
Yet her arms
Are too small
To catch it
All
Romanticizing all this darkness
For all she is
Is poetry
Sweet and sour
Light penetrates her soul
Turning overrated romance
Into sweet reality
Dreams and ambitions
Get mixed up
Turned over
Merged and immersed
Making up
A beautiful mess -
While the mind explores
The ever daunting matter of
To be
Or
Not to be
That was all
She was
An intense mess of
Moments
Memories
Mimics
Mimosas
Moreover, she was
Life - all around
She lived with
It all
About the Creator
Julia
I am no artist.
• Bits of poetry, anecdotes, language learning, travel tips & mostly daydreaming.
🇧🇷🇨🇦🇫🇷
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford6 days ago in Fiction
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