Still picture~

It took a click and a minute, time froze.
Memories captured
Colours exposed.
Feelings sealed
Life glows.
Shutter speed happiness
Pieces of a life-
Froze.
Lights of a second
Squared- existence;
Sound of button
Life froze for a moment.

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Bauble hearts~

~ How easily we break. How easily we paste. The pieces that cling to be whole. The desperation to hold. On to the feelings that bind. Make us one of a kind. Shiny trinket this heart is. Lonely souls find it expensive. Glows and shines when wrapped in kind. Shatters and breaks; fixing it requires a sound mind. Such bauble hearts resides in mankind.~

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Like a film~

The city intoxicates you, gets you high with the frequencies that pass you by. Each city light, tall buildings that tower, man hangs on to every hour. Get lost with me. Find me. Get dazed by these lights. Like actors from an indie screen, find me…Kiss me.

Lights from a Ferris wheel. Spinning lights, hazy me. Like a film, act with me.

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Pinterest/bokeh/wheel/

NOIR

In all ambiguity, morality and cynicism, she hung on the simplicity of a complicated existence. Thrill-seeker in the mundane. Watching life in shades of grey. Smile and smirk, make the old guys talk. Society and her dogmas, old maids’ propaganda. Sit pretty and smile. A woman’s agenda. Sit and smile as the lens snaps glimpses of vanity. Let me pout as you say cheese. Smoke a cigarette, nicotine oxygen in a filtered wall of existence. SIT and look pretty. Fake reality.

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December.

Wide awake,

Scribbling for mental sake;

Dead tired, wide awake

The inner demon needs its place

Wide awake.

December chill up your spine

Thoughts on play

Yet, I press rewind.

Unwind;

Let the voices have their day

Wide awake.

Crossed and curled

Wrapped in guilt

Left unwritten

Yet, bled patience instead.

Wide awake, December-space

Safe!

The inner voice in thy head

Needs to find back its place

Wide awake

Cold December day

Pine-pricked melancholic haze

Wide awake,

This December day!

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Pinterest/Pine/Winter/Photography

 

Begin…

The pages of life began with many beginnings. I found a start ironically with each ending. Many chapters closed. Another one unfolds. This life never quite had a beginning or an end. For each day I start again. ~

Sense of Self(ie)

 Made up of parts. Built from familial ties. Structured by societal norms. A walking catastrophe. Worn, torn, reborn. Each day a new destiny. We are but chameleons; Yet, our stripes stripped from similarity. I am what I am. Some days I feel there is more to me. Some days none of me. Who is she? Selfish pursuits of finding a self yet, to see or be. A self or a selfie?