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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 ©.
ko-fi.com/writerlexilefe…

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Heart a sparrow w/ broken wing,
framed, her body,
masked little thing,
maturing mind sculpted
w/ spoonful of madness,
years pleasing for none,
sad she is.
Though part grown,
a smile lies a while,
small girl,
big style.

8 43

"I became a child with curtained eyes, picturing everything in sanguine manner while the world's monstrous ways kept their relentless bridging of life and its spills."
"You're dead, aren't you?"

8 76

I see charm in dreams,
wonders we tread
no matter how weary
the hope in our wounds,
fusing divides
before falls inhibit
going support,
diving,
catching dires
to create an "it"
needed to triumph
sleepless art.
Peace is wise there.

6 42

Forevers unfurl in tremendous breath
on heights we see whole,
crystal wings echoing,
love ballooned again
on singing hearts' call.
Modern angels
warm our hands
in their pockets
when life is cold,
thawing hope
where we go.

6 45

We danced ancient steps
through streets of stone,
visited pâtisseries
for nuggets of gold,
hid from ruthless storms,
though they passed in minutes,
spread our laughter
on strawberry jam
& the clotted cream
beneath it;
in faraway dreams.

13 54

Deep pangs had begun to introduce themselves almost frequent as the shy, jumbo dust bunny who lived in our forest. Unable to hide any longer, he recruited our help in saving his babies who'd managed to roll themselves stuck beneath moss.

8 62

As you are,
eyes making rebullition
of silence amid evergreens,
their shine exosculating
a soul love in snow
to photograph memories.
If only storms
sheltered the night
the way foolish whispers come,
missing you
after years,
so long gone.

6 32

I laid on the grass, surrendering to the 1 o'clock sun and cream-thick air that creates a virtual yet real discomfort of having clothes melt on your skin—but in my hands was the beading soda bottle you'd given me. An oasis.

10 48

The devil's breeze sings
of spring retribution,
when angelic madness
chases heartache
into smiling shadows
& morning drifts
into lovers' twilight.
Shouldn't we let go?
Of the soul we shared
& music we can no longer dance to,
restart.

10 37

Her dark eyes faded to Mars' ashen red, hair grew brittle as autumn leaves blown far from home. Frantic thoughts boiled in Mother's stare, but a queen must remain her hushed mask no matter how dire her child's state.

12 58