she is nothing short
of a masterpiece.
I collect the withered flowers with my bruised fingertips, carrying my deepest sorrows...
daily prompt: writer | personally, I love this piece
I look beneath the universe, Whirling like a cosmogyral...
genuine, the definition of true beauty. (grandliterarysociety)
Many great poets have come very far because of their famous poems. Now, the world has changed, and they are no longer remembered.
Words will never truly do us justice.
A poetic carves poems with plastered words. The poem comes out well and receives lot of attention at first. But after a few days, it's just forgotten...hope it makes sense
this is something from simple words after awhile, after all its reality.
ever wonder what happened to those words you held back?
My heart thuds with all the words burrowed within. Sketched on the walls, ingrained in my skin
I wrote this poem based off a quote from a poem from Atticus. :)
For someone I love and who inspires me most here! I hope you enjoy! <3
when nature is the only metaphors you use 0-o (i wrote this about writers block since I’m in writers block)
i hate it when people ask why i’m so “quiet”. like, i can speak, i just choose not to waste my words, ya know?