Poetry

Times and her.

A
image
She was an oxymoron in the bland language of life.

She was~
The excitement in the patience
The peace in the violence
The pretty in the mess
The more in the less.

She is~
The scream in the silence
The dark in the radiance
The broken in the complete
The evil in the sweet.

She will be~
The epitome of change
The stable little game
The tranforming soul
The one screaming hoarse.

Toodles!
~A♥~

Published by A

"Her words were the best pen portrait she could ask for- laced with fire and passion, hiding secrets and overactive imagination, weighing her diary down with ink fashioned with emotions and expressions- they told her story like it was- curling edges because of overuse and memories as a bookmark, holding the place in time she visited over and over again."

30 thoughts on “Times and her.”

  10. Well , If I may , I would be adding one more line to it – “She is the imperfect perfection” & 😭😭😭😭 This would entirely represent my best friends , well she doesn’t talks to me but I miss her a lot

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    Reply

      1. 😢😢 Indeed , I am !! We tried to sort things out & she believes that it’s better for me to stay away , but this hurts me even more rather than fixing it

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