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Literature Text
A gown of silk, flowing as a stream,
Her footsteps so gentle, perhaps she was a dream,
As he crouches near bushes to glare at the unseen,
And she danced like ballerina.
Her fingers combed her golden hair,
A perfect lady who didn't care
To see the man that would never dare
To touch a ballerina.
But desire grew, and patience died,
As a lovely girl danced before his eyes,
So he buried his heart, pulled out a knife,
And tickled the ballerina.
She fought his hands, in fear of death,
A dirty blade sinking through her chest,
For he would never settle for something less,
As she screamed,
She cried,
She took her final breath...
And the wind grew calm, barely blowing on the stream.
Her voice so quiet (perhaps it was a dream).
As he closes his eyes, cradling his queen...
His beautiful ballerina.
Her footsteps so gentle, perhaps she was a dream,
As he crouches near bushes to glare at the unseen,
And she danced like ballerina.
Her fingers combed her golden hair,
A perfect lady who didn't care
To see the man that would never dare
To touch a ballerina.
But desire grew, and patience died,
As a lovely girl danced before his eyes,
So he buried his heart, pulled out a knife,
And tickled the ballerina.
She fought his hands, in fear of death,
A dirty blade sinking through her chest,
For he would never settle for something less,
As she screamed,
She cried,
She took her final breath...
And the wind grew calm, barely blowing on the stream.
Her voice so quiet (perhaps it was a dream).
As he closes his eyes, cradling his queen...
His beautiful ballerina.
Literature
This is love
In this empty room
We stand together
In silence
In the darkness
Our shattered hearts
Bleeding together as one
While the blood runs
Through our cold skin
This is what love is like
Two broken people
Sharing their pain
Merging their empty souls
We forget about the world
Because we live in a world of our own
United as one
In an illusion of happiness
Literature
Pink
the boys gestured and jeered
‘what happened?’
‘what’d you do to your hair?’
‘boys won’t like you now.’
she turned away, smiling all the while
head shaved and pink scarf in place
‘because it’s too hot’
‘I want a fresh start’
‘I never liked my long hair anyways’
but at home she cries
though the tears won’t fall
because it was shave
or watch it fall out
no one comments on the lost weight
or the bags gathering under her eyes
for she hides it with pink clothes and makeup
chemo starts she throws up in school
the teachers send her home, but her paren
Literature
Poetry,
you’re a
temperamental bitch
that moans when I go.
You compare
alcohol
to happiness.
You creep
from throats
& bones
like some
hungry monster.
But Poetry,
language
was invented
for you.
You awoke
a rhythm
between my
fingertips
that still
taunts
me.
You’re either a
vital organ,
or blood.
However, Poetry,
are you cheaper
than the women
in the empty spaces
of my life-
or the secrets
I write
between my thighs?
Poetry,
I am Fifty Shades
of girl.
Why should I feed you?
Do you know
what to do
with my body
when you are merely
ink stained fingers
soaked in passing
& the fevers
conjured
within burning stars?
I didn’t think
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So yeah. Haha 
creepy stuff man, creepy stuff.
creepy stuff man, creepy stuff.Comments are appreciated <3 Love you all!
© 2014 - 2024 MikkiMarie
Comments26
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Overall Vision Originality Technique Impactit's a beautiful story, i love it. it's unique and strange, without the everyday happy ending.
my suggestion would be to make it more intense. i got a lot of emotion from it, but that could've been because i thought deeply about it while reading it. maybe adding a little more tension or using some more intense language would help the poem live and breath on it's own, without the reader digging for it.
the rhyme and meter pattern worked really well, i love how the whole thing flowed. i also like the ending of ballerina each time for the first few stanzas.
loved it over all, the rhyme and meter pattern are a nice touch, and the story was beautiful.