stars
why do you look at me like i hung the stars?
it’s much more likely that it was you
sparkling even in smothering dark
even i could shine if i was next to you
we’re like the moon and sun
i’m only there because you are too
but you don’t need me to be yourself
and when i’m the moon, i rarely get to see you
we’re like light and a black hole
you glow in so many shades of blue
but of course, i suck it all up
and leave you without a clue
why do you look at me like i hung the stars?
don’t you know i hung them for you?
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eyes
right so my writing prompt in core today was "write about your valentine's eyes and what you see in them" which like. what possesed my core teacher to do that. but anyways i thought i'd share:
my love,
when i look into your eyes
i see a million different things
i can’t choose just one
i see the stars in your eyes
forming constellations
vast and beautiful
in a terrifying sort of way
i see a fire in your eyes
burning passion
flaming and beautiful
in a strong sort of way
i see home in your eyes
knit sweaters
warm and beautiful
in a cozy sort of way
your eyes contain depths
i can’t quantify
and it’s silly to try
my love.
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angel tears
shoutout to @falling-raine for inspiring this one, your fic was heartwrenching I loved kt. the fic
if you look at the clouds
all dark and gray
and you wonder what
happened to the day
the sun was shining
the sky was blue
the birds were singing
now darkened too
an angel sits
somewhere up there
he’s all alone
and no one cares
he pastes a smile
and walks along
memories of
a nightingale's song
and finally when
he gets the time
he writes and writes
for every line
his eyes fill up
with angel tears
and when they spill
the whole world hears
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empty/purpose
in a cluttered bookshop
there’s an empty room
with empty walls
dusty and barren
the bookkeeper keeps
the room so empty
its principle
is not his, decidedly
though the room is his
the purpose is not
he will not touch it
neither will its purpose
then the bookkeeper leaves
but the purpose stays
stares at the walls
empty, empty
and when the bookkeeper is back
the room is not empty
the purpose had changed it
his purpose. our purpose.
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stay
here have some sad aziraphale poetry. courtesy of @falling-raine
you always wanted to get away
leave
leave everything
leave it all behind
and i always said no
i told you to stay
stay here
stay with me
our song and dance
and you would
stay.
i needed to get away
leave
leave everyone
leave it all behind
all but you
and you said no
you told me to stay
stay back
stay with you
a broken record
and i didn’t
stay.
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blue
i just don’t understand how
an angel like you
with your eyes so damn blue
could ever know me and reciprocate too
you’re so fucking perfect
you’re out of my league
so why do you stoop
so low to meet me
i’m so damn lucky to live
with your beautiful soul so near
there’s so much in this big wide world
i’ve come to hate and fear
but even though i don’t get why
you’re still so fully here
would you maybe promise me
to never leave, my dear?
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tripping
aren’t you afraid
you’ll trip and fall and flame
i’m certainly not worth
all that burning pain
you went all the way
down to hell for me
where did this go wrong
why’d you go and leave
was there something
anything
i could’ve possibly done
to stop you from splitting
with this useless demon
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noticed
i have stopped
expecting
to be noticed.
noticed in the hallways
filled with people i call friends
yet barely talk to
if you count it daily
noticed in a groupchat
with fifteen people talking
all much closer to each other
than any of them are with me
noticed from across the room
looking at a pretty girl
wishing she would feel my stare
and dare to look back
noticed at a table of friends
joking and laughing with each other
yet if I say nothing for more than five minutes
they forget i’m even there
i used to
expect
to be noticed.
i don’t,
anymore.
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sharp edges(?????)
my sharp edges and your soft curves
we don’t fit together
but i still love you
and i will forever
black, red, beige, and white
don’t look good together
but i still stick around
and i will forever
i’ll scare away people you don’t like
if you ignore the fact we’re not alike
we might actually work, darling
we might just work
serpent fangs and angel wings
should not be next to each other
but i’m not going to move
i won’t, ever
no good and never bad
should not intertwine with each other
but i won’t unmix with you
i won’t, ever
somehow you don’t want my head on a pike
and though i make fun of everything you like
we might actually work, darling
we might just.
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shine
like the sun you greet me
on the most beautiful days
and on the dreary days too
the one thing I know is you
like a star you glow
burning up with ideas
and I’m right next to you
supporting whatever you’ll do
like the center of the system
and yet still you’re humble
if I were anything like you
I would sing until dark blue
like the sun you shine
amazing, and it’s mine
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supernova
you light up my life
with your supernova smile
and when I hear you laugh
this life might be worthwhile
your beautiful face
your undeniable grace
when I see your quick wit
there is no better place
from far away I see your glow
I see no better place to go
and so I stand next to you
in this great big galaxy
you’re my supernova home
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my dear,
my perfect darling
my love, my one and only
my yellow tulip.
i have picked up a small case, watson.
what is it?
i’m buying you some
diphylleia.
something trivial,
nothing to interest you.
i’ll be going out
to look at some flowers.
what for, holmes?
i hold you in my deepest
mauve carnations.
i believe i will
find some clues
there.
why haven’t i heard of this case?
it doesn’t exist
i am lying
i am making you a
a mulberry
i didn’t think it would
interest you, watson.
hmm. well, you must tell me about it later.
i cannot
you would hate me
i cannot bear that
a daffodil.
of course.
what particularly about flowers?
shit shit shit shit
a purple hyacinth.
flower language.
hmm.
he knows he knows he
cannot know how would he
clovenlip toadflax.
mm. i will see you.
don’t be late for dinner.
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apples
an apple hangs off
a tree in the middle
of a garden we stand in
we know so little
original sinner
and she’s leaving that
garden, i’m staring at your
lips, and you tell me go back
you tease me with apples
when we meet at our bench
we’ve been meeting for
centuries, a sinful stench
will arise from right here
as you feel more of
what’s supposed to be hate
so why is this love
you’ll never get that
and you’ll never get this:
the only apples i want
are the ones upon your lips
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@ttpdpoetryweek anti-hero
i will never be
your perfect hero
no matter how many times
i sweep you up
into my arms
against the church bell chimes
in the background
i can hear the
sounds of demons roaring
but none of that
will matter when i
see you look adoring
the ghosts of
the looks i
once claimed
from your eyes
they haunt me
in nightmares
they’re wringing
me dry
i miss you
and wish you
had listened
to me
but i should’ve
known you were
going to
leave.
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front row
sometimes i wake up
itching to tell
an audience somewhere
about our little world
and all the new things
that we’ve done since last
they saw us, like
a tv show from their past
and then i walk in
to our living room, and
look around for a
moment, and realize
you left our world
a long time ago
and i’m the only one
sitting in an empty front row.
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