Rarishy Poems

by alafoel

Rating: teen
Tags: Rarity, Fluttershy, Anthology, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance
Length: 1047

Poems about Fluttershy and Rarity.

Poems about Fluttershy and Rarity.

A (late) gift for a friend. Cover art by RB.

Published 2024-08-03 21:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-08-03 21:20:01 UTC

Flowers

summer warmth
melting
inside me
a wax frame and mind
barely able to
hoist
and stand,
struts to support the
weight
of a heart like this.

sweet,
sugary blood
hypnotic
filling up
and spilling over,
led from their chambers
to
tear ducts
rotten and salty.

a daily routine.

the pleasure
then the pain.

a single wax figure

the
flowers
outside
were blooming
sweet,
sugary
hypnotic

the flowers
inside
were
still waiting.

still waiting
for
something else

I'm no gardener, my love,
and my pail is
empty of water but
I have a lot of
time
on my hooves
and
more than enough
blood
left to give.

You will bloom, in time.

You will bloom.

Un

con

ditionally.

Tatters

It was plain to see,
her dress was in tatters.
The tailor
couldn't abide.
"A sight! A sight!
No, this won't do!"
with a
shake of head
and neat little sigh
examining stitches that failed.

so the tailor left the girl,
searching for her needles,
rummaging through drawers
for the string to feed
through the eye
to save the dress.

and the girl waited
thinking thoughts of leaving,
wanting not to disturb.

With a hoof
grasping folds of fabric
strung across the girl's frame,
she guided the needle
guided the string
to mend the holes
in the embroidery.
The dress fit tighter,
more comfortable
but no less tattered:
The buttons on the front were missing!

so the tailor left the girl,
digging through her bits and bobs
to find the perfect fit
to affix through string,
through needle eye
and mended fabric,
to save the dress.

and the girl waited
thinking thoughts of leaving,
wanting not to disturb.

The glow of horn
cast the shadow
of buttons held in place
sitting neatly in line
attached there to replace.
The dress was more glamorous,
neatly accessorized,
but still tattered as before.
The side was a disaster!
The fabric was gone
too much just to
resew...

so the tailor left the girl,
searching for the silk
that would finish the piece in turn
through rolls and drawers
and forgotten old covers
nothing left would fit
but the clothes on her back.
So she tore the skirt
that held the fabric
that fit the silk
that made the dress
that needed to be saved.

and the girl looked on,
mouthing only Stop!
but the sound never came out.

The silken shapes
drifted in place
to form invisible lines,
join pieces
old and new,
wounded since
beginning of time
more string, more sew
more sweat on the brow
and tears in her skirt
but the dress was finally done.

so the tailor stepped back
and admired her work,
the beauty that she had fostered.
As grand as it was,
the girl just looked on
at the tattered mess she caused.

Tatters

Digging through bins
and old pieces of scrap
the girl reached for corsage.

Bit and bobs,
odds and ends
all the
missing pieces
piled on a table
right there
next to her.

The girl had some skill
for threading the needle,
but never as much as the tailor.
Still, she pushed on
with hoof and wing
and fabric miscellanea
laid across
model form
poked together,
multicolored thread
and zig zag patterns
polka dot
and clear.

It took some time
and even more work
to assemble the pieces
of the skirt,
together
in one.
Beautiful, sort of.

Folded, neatly
in a small box
wrapped in colored paper
alongside a
note
for the tailor.

"I'm sorry that it's
a little mis-matched
but at least it's not so tattered.
If you open your heart,
I think you might find
this skirt is a little like me."

Morning Love Song

Sun shine
ing through
window frame
window pane
warming grey
ing fur
dancing about and
summoning forth
lucidity,
eyelids to
wake.

the clouds have parted
the fog,
the sweet smell
the sweet smell
ing fog has
parted
has
given way to a clarity.
an empty
clarity.

it's morn
ing now.
there's an
in
dentation
in the sheet
where you
once were
but
are no longer.

an empty,
empty
clarity:

i'll still be fine

Flying

When Rainbow Dash talks
about the feeling of flying
she says that she feels free.
The wind on her wings
makes her feel strong
and she forgets what it's like to be weak.
It gives her
meaning and purpose
it opens her eyes
and billows her heart
stops whatever it is that's meek.

If she's right
then I don't fly when I'm
spreading my wings
up there.
I drown and freeze
I drift about.
I stay
and struggle for air.

The sky's not for me,
but I'm not so sad
'cause I can still fly
when
ever
I'm with
you.

Sewing

As I
pass the needle
ready the stitch

for that
extra little
touch
you bring

your eyes catch the light
and shine in that way
that makes me
lose my mind

the smile you have
when looking at me
I can't see anything else.

You understand,
I hope,
why I was distracted
the moment I pricked your wing.

You giggled
and said
it didn't hurt
but I could
kiss it better
if I wanted.

I got a
bandage
from the cupboard
but you said it
was alright,
and the bleeding
had already stopped.

I got a glass
of water
from the kitchen,
you said
you were
feeling fine.

I got a
lot of thoughts
tangled in my brain,
but some like to
surface
at points.

I should have felt worse
when I realized the truth,
you're doomed to me forevermore.

untitled

I was scared again today.
I was scared still,
when I came home.

One of the chameleons
got old.
and

You know what happens
when animals
get old.

You know what happens

I was scared.
I was sad.
I was feeling
a lot of things
that I think
I'm still feeling.

Will still
be feeling.

but when I got back
you were there.

I didn't say a word,
you didn't
give me the chance.

You hugged me
and kissed me
and told me you love me.

and it
hurt
a little less bad.

you said you wanted
to
Get old.
together.

I suppose it's
not as bad
if we're doing it together.