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the sky was bleeding pastel pink

By Andrei Z.Published 5 months ago 1 min read
8

Come sit and watch it drown.

Open mouth, eyes shut tight.

Feel the glow, inhale the tide.

The sun is settling down.

My thoughts roam away.

The ocean brews foam.

I am water. If you were made of stone

I would carve my way

Right to your heart

Through the smoothness

Of your cold skin.

A soothing waft of wind,

Goosebumps all over my back.

I track with my gaze

The horizon of tomorrow.

Lean on my shoulder.

As it's getting colder,

We're getting older.

Another worn-out remark.

Come sit with me.

There's no ocean below,

But the sky glows pastel pink,

And the street light burns

Birch leaf gold.

nature poetry
8

About the Creator

Andrei Z.

Overthinker.

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  2. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  3. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  1. Masterful proofreading

    Zero grammar & spelling mistakes

  2. On-point and relevant

    Writing reflected the title & theme

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Comments (8)

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  • Cathy holmes5 months ago

    Beautiful piece. Well done.

  • Grz Colm5 months ago

    Wonderful. I’ve missed reading your pieces Andrei! 😊👏

  • Gosh this was so breathtaking and mesmerising! Loved your poem!

  • Though the ocean is not below, it's still a very romantic scene washing over two souls growing old together.

  • Ace Melee5 months ago

    Very pretty poem. It's easy to read.

  • Mackenzie Davis5 months ago

    That initial image of closed eyes and an open mouth…What a way to begin. And watching it unfurl, that ocean metaphor is sublime, particularly in its carving of the metaphorical stone and getting goosebumps…Like, water with goosebumps? That is hella beautiful. Ocean foam indeed. Then the return to the ordinary at the end is like a breath of sweetness. Omg, Andrei. 🤯

  • Hannah Moore5 months ago

    There's a lovely transition here from the romanticism of the semi exotic to the romanticism of the ordinary.

  • Mother Combs5 months ago

    lovely

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