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FallingInto empty circlesBranded with your kisses,Stained by the blood of your heart.I can reachFor a void, where you belonged,Yet, you still shower me in your excessive light,Leaving love to my arms,Caressed like a whimpering child. Leave my own heartTo the storm of your hypocrisy,That I might terminateAll the blood that flows through your halo,That I…
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“A lie is imagination, burning an image into sight only ever convincing. The truth, however, is something that wallops you so hard, you will find it shocking.” – Modern Romanticism How far can a writer take creativity, when it comes to a fact? To comprehend creativity, itself, as unlimited in the human imagination, will make…
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I can falter,I can swimBeneath the scenery you cast forthFrom such a pallid stare.I can worshipWithout being on my knees,The holiness of your unendingBeauty.You can take your eyes to the sun,Marking spots where we can runAs our faces cry outTo something we have missed,That we gather up. Set your place among the world,Dear one,For you…
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TruthDecays, upon the dayWhen I can no longer embraceYou, beneath the waters,As I now see only the sand,Where our soft forms used to land,And roll.We are used to our own toll,Retaining white upon our teeth,With red around our eyes,Though, can now transfix ourselvesTo the upcoming feat,Where we shall drop ourselvesTo a place hardened by our…
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Leaving yourselfFloatingIn the wind,Where tapestries inscribe your nameTo wool and linen, bleeding red upon white.As you, the leaf upon the lake,Can seek out worlds no one has left,Because no one arrived. Emotional,Where dreams come hurriedTo the eyes, where teardrops come dancingFrom their storm, to the earth. Can you raise the petals no stormHas ever tainted?Can…
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UnholyDynastyOf something so unfathomable,As the love from starless nights,There is sheWading among the terrorsTo a place without light,That I seekSomething so meek,In where she places her crownOf ebony mixed with ivory,Though the latter has no substance. She choosesDiversity for ways,While ICan collideWith the ocean’s breath,As IFlood the world with her death,Can sing praises that come…
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I cannotBow near enoughTo kiss your frozen lips,Without welcoming myselfTo join you,For tears have gleamed my years,In outpouring sunlightFor too long. As I bury theeBeneath the sea, of my thorns,You can find puddles away from our homeTo cleanse the soil from your form. Drinking the nothingnessOf two storms, un-matching.Wielding frostTo lay upon my heart.There are…
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Without displayOf yourself, in the wind,There is only shameKept on your ridged back,Pock-marked by age,Despondent in your ways.For I can loveWithout much help to yourself,As I can kissWithout much closure to your wounds. You will paint imageryOver your eyes,Recounting the fallen dropletsComing from the stemYou’ve yearned to have.HoliestYouth, with no mirror to splash disregard,Love has…
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I can calm the deepWithin thee,While blue shatters the moonBringing to its embrace.Oh, gravitational pull!Her eyes are deep in the fogOf this cityscape,Though my mind can count the numbersOf her misplaced self,Deep in the dead night,While she hopes in the dead light. I can quell the terror,Bleeding from youAs futile error. I can create serenityFor…
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A sun has set itselfIn your heart,Soon for darkness to be our world.Whenever did you stop singingSoon as the children were never there,Soon as people’s gazesFell upon their own feet? Desperation has taken us,Dear beauty.Love is nowhere, but in you.Though, we are losing you,Losing flame. Reddened hair,Is becoming black as the burned out hearth,While flesh,…
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Emotion. Aflame, with attempted designation to the rope. The rope, for it cannot be cut with a knife. It cannot, for it cannot hold its weight’s own will. Its weight, of a form that wishes for death. A death that would leave countless tears to rot at the feet of their rejecter. Love waits. It…
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She holds a smile in her hands, while filming the ocean’s sounds with her heart. Sounds that return to her, upon when the waters lick the shoreline. Sounds that matter only to a world that never responded quick enough, upon when sickness took her beloved. A world that only gave a whisper from a dying…
Modern Romanticism 