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Showing stories tagged with #emotional-metaphor Clear filter
I am gazing into your soft blue eyes Watching the waves lap at the white sands where your iris ends Searching for meaning in them as you tell me you love me Wanting some proof you are my soul...
#household She walks around wearing a mask, unfortunately the mask is glass, she thinks that those around can't see, her anger or her misery.
My glass heart beats slowly, trapped in my chest. My glass eyes stare penetrate your soul, peeling away the layers of your life.
Take a big slice of my ego. Wash it down with a cappuccino. Consume what you don't know. A sour tasting worn out sole. Chew on my fatty pride. Lick the salty tears I cried.
When I think of you, I know exactly what I do, I take the image from my mind, And paste it on the one I find, Trouble is, so often I'm wrong, For we, together don't belong, How can I make it...
Paper friends, paper chains Bring me nothing but Paper cut pains. Paper chains, paper thin Destined to fail Before they begin. At first not apparent But paper opaque can Also be transparent.
@eddie12309 Improvisation challenge. I've always thought the grass was greener on the other side. Now I'm here I doubt I'll make it out alive. I'm walking on the broken shells of a hundred eggs.
The emotion police are wreaking havoc inside of me, Handing out fines to all of my organs Because they are underpaid and fear unemployment.
Wind wind how she roars clattering at our windows and banging down our doors. taking casualties as she blows.
One specialized knife to stab the heart. One special tool to mend it when it's hard. One word to describe all our pain. One word to take it all away again. One thing to finish us all off.
"I'm feeling so... orange today." "Huh?" "Well, I figured that you're blue when you're sad, and green when you're jealous. So you're orange when you're lonely." "Why orange.
There I saw him Sitting in the rain, A moggy chucked out in the cold.
you make me feel like a paper plane.
Stitch me back together,. Frayed edges,. Threads of cotton,. I can still see the seams. Where the patchwork joins,. Awkward, jarring,. Colours that shouldn't ever. Sit next to each other.
It's come to my attention. Among some other things. It seems I am no use to you. Without my puppet strings. I'm just a wooden marionette. I'm just a wooden toy. But I have feelings in my heart.
Once there was a box, buried deep under a desolate shore.
I swam out into your sea only long enough to get lost in the ripples of your tide. Your salt spilling into my open wounds. I can't resist you. It's calming and cool.
Can I please pack up all the bullshit. throw the trash and wash the can. Can I make the bed, no wrinkles, no mess. Can I sweep all the memories off the floors. Can I mop all the tracks of pain.
A rose as a metaphor for a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A beauty hard to surpass, where mishandling may result in injury or death. You could be a rose, that metaphor would fit, but I decided against it.