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Our Single DropThe raindrops patter on the back porch pane
To leave soft streams in their wake.
Rivulets so reminiscent run down,
Rivulets that some forsake.
As they race along the long glass window,
They can't see what they expend.
They travel the distance with fervid speed,
Though they wish not for its end.
They twist and turn on this short-lived path,
Never staying straight for long.
And while some will fade only halfway through,
Other raindrops will hold strong.
A tranquil puddle at the bottom forms
As the drops begin to pool.
I dip my hand in the miniature bath
And am woken with the cool.
It jolts nearly every sense alive;
I breathe deep to take it
A Subtle DanceDusk falls with burgundy tears,
the glimmering of old chandeliers.
Frost collides with mercury light,
setting the scene of the night.
Amour is expressed within a song,
a ballad to move our bodies along.
The sensation of a silken gown
twirls with the sonorous sound.
A hint of perfection in your eyes
embraces the world in gentle sighs,
as fragments of ice melt into lace,
and velvet roses slip into place.
Another second of endless desire
envelops our hearts in silver fire.
A winter solstice oh so blessed,
a moment to never be repressed.
How the Phelps Failed His MissionEveryone
In the U.S.
Were a glad lot…
But the Phelps
Who lived in eastern Kansas,
The Phelps loathed gays! The gay population!
Now, please don’t ask why. There is just speculation.
He might have seen them as a social deviance.
It could be he had a gay experience.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that bitter hate had consumed him all.
Whatever the reason,
The past or his hate,
He stood in his Kansas home, very irate.
Staring down from his sofa, with a sour, Phelps glare
At the love and tolerance that lighted the air.
For he knew every person in the country there
Was living and let live
KitesSilent tyrant of the sky
Mind your obscure earthly string,
Though you accrue heaven's eye
Look oh rook, on what you cling.
Betwixt, unfixed the prairie cloud,
Above in love your brethren sing,
In gleam, they dream as diamonds proud
Which gown his crown; the golden king.
Chase the grace of cosmic joy,
Wild that child of crimson lust,
Rave, yet save his fury's toy;
Mirth in birth in truth is trust.
In time, to climb the sail does pine,
Despite its flight, or ambits crossed;
Uncrossed, now tossed, your cords entwine
And all the squall in bond is lost.
Love OnlineWhat have your fingers to say to mine?
We're not talking anymore;
Love? What of it? A binary sign?
All hail the quintessential hand shrine,
Pressing, depressing, keyboard whore;
What have your fingers to say to mine?
At supper, for her ping, men do pine
And in 2D smileys he does score;
Love? What of it? a binary sign?
Behold this invertebrate's blinking spine!
Behold his anonymous roar!
What have your fingers to say to mine?
This lexicon never draws a line;
Ceaselessly he knocks at her door;
Love? What of it? A binary sign?
His thoughts, his motions flash flood the Rhine,
Though his boat will never reach the shore;
What have your fin
Is It?Is it wrong to make her laugh?
Is it wrong to dry her eyes,
Always long to hold her close,
Always want to calm her cries?
Can I not just lie with her,
Praying that the sun won't rise,
And when it does, go dance with her -
As raindrops pour from stormy skies -
Singing songs of love I know
That she will never criticize?
You wonder how I cherish her;
To me it's no surprise.
CloserBreath on my neck,
Cheek against mine,
Lips on my shoulder,
A shiver down my spine.
Arms around bodies,
That beg to be close.
Lips that don’t touch,
But are closer than most.
Just on the edge,
Of more than mere friends,
Walking the line,
Praying it never ends.
Holding each other,
And feeling at home,
Before letting go,
And going home all alone.
I found myself quiet a few times
Discovering your picture with my fingertips
And everytime without knowing
My finger stopped at your beautiful lips
Like perfectly crafted rubies
They are red, pure and glassy
Placed togather in a form of smile
Full of life and intents, sassy
Like your face is an vast ocean
Long lost were the two ships
Meant to meet at a certain point
In the form of your cherry lips
Like I was in a hot, dry desert
Dying of thirst, without water
But I found the red oasis
And I drank from your lips, the nectar
Like red the color of love
Affiliation, affection and compassion
Red the color of danger and warning
But its hard to r
First dateI won't say goodnight,
I won't say goodbye,
I'll kiss you once more and remember your sigh.
Your taste and your touch will imbed in my mind,
mixed with words that you shared which were touching and kind.
From the way that you moved or reached out for my hand,
to how making the simplest of things feel so grand.
Yes this date lit my heart just as bright as the moon
but I won't say goodnight I'll just say "see you soon".
Four A.M. Thoughts of YouThe clock read four A.M. in the morning,
And soon the sun will be adorning
The sky with the cheerful rays of its dawning
But I'm not even yawning.
I find myself with nothing to do
But feed myself with thoughts of you;
Replaying memories both old and new
As the sky took on a lighter hue.
The sky was suddenly set ablaze,
Clawing me from my dreamy haze
Into the daily morning craze—
Isn't life a never-ending maze?
Fingerprints of Simple LoveLingering…
Whispering that it was there,
It was real,
It was not a dream.
Electrified with the memory,
So calm and serene,
Meaningful and simple.
The fingerprints of care and love.
Laying on my skin…
On my Cheeks,
The prints of your kisses,
Your sweet and innocent little kisses.
Our SheetsSoft kisses under sheets
where skin and warmth meets.
Relaxed inside and out to reach
from head, to the toes on my feet.
Quick glances and long stares,
neither of us wanting to go anywhere.
Perfectly happy staying right there.
What’s outside? To look we don’t dare.
You exhale and I breathe in
warm air, life of a friend.
Better than anywhere we’ve ever been.
Under sheets the light stays dim.
Lip to lip, just barely a flutter to me.
Sweet, warm and light instantly
seared to my heart like a memory.
Nothing could happen more perfectly.
Heartbeats soothe us to sleep.
Rhythmic secrets we swore to keep.
It’s easy when you
DifferencesHe holds my hand
From across the bed,
While your memory whispers,
In my ear.
You are a ghost,
Inside my head,
He's really here.
He does not say a word,
But actions make their promises.
You speak in strings of verb and noun,
No truth among the sound.
He waits so patiently,
His heart it walks the premises.
Your memory pounds at the door,
Much less than honor bound.
He presses lips into a line,
Keeping the anger within.
You press your lips up to mine,
Pouring all your hatred in.
So Begins the DayCaught in the dream,
in the glorious bliss.
Everything is perfection.
Each beautiful kiss.
Walking down the beach,
in a soft summer rain.
The minutes last for hours.
The hours last for days.
I try desperately to cling,
to these moments so dear.
For the moment that sleep ends,
is the moment I most fear.
And yet, cruel morning pulls,
dragging me from her hold.
My dreams are far too warm,
to be sent to waking cold.
Slowly her beauty,
fades from my eyes.
Like the beautiful stars,
with the cursed sunrise.
I tried to hold her close,
as I was pulled away.
Night has found its end,
and so begins the day.
Pour mon amourQue sont devenus les instants d’hier ?
Sinon les anciens instants d’aujourd’hui.
Des instants érigés pierre après pierre,
Le passé que nous nous sommes construit.
Baisers après baisers ne sont qu’amour,
Et je te regarde jour après jour
Avec cette même infinie tendresse
La même que celle de nos caresses.
Une vérité émerge de moi
Délicieux bonheur qui dure avec toi
Ce bonheur qui donne un sens à ma vie,
Et je ne l’imagine plus qu’ainsi.
Lovée dans tes bras pour l’éternité,
Mon amour pour toi
BailoutThis work of fan fiction contains characters, ideas, situations, and places found in the Hasbro Studios series "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic". No infringement of copyright is implied by this work of satire and parody, and this work is meant as a celebration of the people involved in the creation, development, and production of the series.
Written by The Descendant
Ponyville City Hall Fixture
Sweet Apple Acres Farm and Marina
Dear Mayor Mare,
It was wit' no small amount of disappointment that we received yer' newest letter o' sympathy, madam mayor. While yer' elocution wa
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