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Lexi Lefevreさんのイラストまとめ


Writer/literary editor/blogger/vegetarian. In my free ti—Ooh, maple syrup! *ahem* I write YA, SF&F, Contemporary, poetry, Horror. 안녕하세요 My words are under my ©.
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Onism is a chaos
within itself,
within you,
and beautiful it may be,
for you could be
one with another
on a Sunday morning,
kissing his, her, their
onism sea.
The breeze
is enticing,
blowing cinnamon
from your locks
to inhale.

12 64

Life could be wonderful with kindness in high prestige, how lush happiness would grow if we'd water its seeds. Such supple words twirl through my mind as stars dart the sky, flowers in their beds, our hairs amid their sighs.

7 46

"The Mimics walked with quiet façade, studying the reactions of all in sight. Your Gran once offered one a stroopwafel—her gran's recipe—but ended any interaction there. Claimed she saw the devil vining in his eyes."

7 40

Live by personal creeds
even when muffled
by others' searing chains,
tie bright balloons
to their links
and watch them
fly away.
Keep your heart
soft and convivial,
though hardened it appears,
remember you
are not
the weak one there.

10 52

The skies detailed more than sparks in your eyes, the unending candles they are. You mark the world with light on every kind gaze—but such aren't given free and the same fires can punish evil doings and their charade.

6 58

Nightfall, face to the peeking moon, I thought of sneaking a kiss before my Mom opened the door—but nothing happened. I went to bed, woke up alone, and looked at our last photo on my vanity mirror as Mom placed a small white bow on my hair. 7

2 10

I came upon a lush patch of wildflowers amid brumal icing sugar. My hands brushed against its hues while the falling sky speckled my face, soft & brief as cotton candy on warm tongues & somehow just as sweet. You became spring matter.

8 52

Dew peppered our lashes on that clouded spring morning. I felt your sleeping breaths on my cheek, slow and steady as the breeze swinging between leaves. Our loose gripped hands were sweaty but I didn't mind anymore. It was calming—waking to simple beauties. 1

6 37

"Storms are cantankerous things. They're a million vengeful spirits manifested out of all those books you've dog-eared & torn blank pages from," I spit, a scowl on my face, no doubt. "What? You'd vandalized their graves, you fool."

7 37