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How to kill the past,Bury it in mud,To leave the leaves of an autumnal tempestFar behind,Back to where the sunCannot speak to those yesterdays,Written in brail,Believed by the blind. How to kiss your handLifted to the moon,Where tears are shared by the blinding noon,For no sun can see us,For no sun can findAll that can…
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Upon the Hell,Where heated momentsAre everyone’s misfortune,You seem to call to oneWhere hearts are lost,Failures are timid,Eyes are scattered, in glances,Leaving love to the well, where it drops,Like a curtain over an empire. I kissSweet roses, farewell,Over graves, cold and still.Yet, your handIs placed in mineFor me to speak words of warmthTo your crying eyes,Where…
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“No strength would be in this world, without the barrier to break down, to see truth that would otherwise shock, should it be shown everywhere. Without the barrier, truth shown everywhere, and we’d be shocked.” – Modern Romanticism To the woman who wears a mask, places a shield before her truth, places a barrier before…
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Pull myself togetherUnder your breathing form,In the circus of your entwining arms,Lurking in your shadowWhere I can melt my smileInto your veins. Like idle crossesWhere no savior resides,I can die, over again,For the faces that never wither,Bleeding and pulingIn the arms of their captured beloved.Pulling myselfDown, under your form,Not leaving. Hurts to love, hurts to…
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I have lifted. I have always cried. Of stones that were carried in my arms, while tears fell from them, soon as they were squeezed. I was expected. To release truth, I was expected. Like love was something I could fall through, beating my heart, burning in my skull. I released. I let go myself,…
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My love, where you sing your cries on an empire of your Hellish loneliness. How can the churches believe you? How can your smile ever be parted, from you? I will bleed along with you, my love. Treasure yourself, for the funeral cannot be far off. I will kiss your hand, for as long as…
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How often does a memory last, wrapped in the thorny shrub of one’s heart? I’ve often twisted myself on the realization that love is something that can be forgotten. Though, for how was my youth, it was only naivety that swung me in that direction. Love is never a rope traded, for a heart on…
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A: You must comprehend where his hatred originated, his anger originated, for it was not something he ever welcomed with open arms. B: How then, did it occur in his heart, when before, he was loving? A: To imagine a man, who once had a heart full of love. To understand him, to have paid…
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In my dark,Where reflections are my understandingOf so-limited truth,She brought out my lost notes,My sacred pledges,Deserted among the strangled ocean,Born down upon my arms,Where I can bleed her,Soon as I lose her. Losing her,Beneath waves, cold as silk,Long with the tide,Curving her,Writing my truth upon her form,White as the porcelain,Glistening as the ivoryOf wilted bones,Like…
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Like fogDancing atop your smearedForehead,While kisses remain steadyTo pull me throughThe keenest kind of birthInto your arms.Like loveNever had a melody to shareWith the empires,Corrupt,And unkind. One ariaThat blew free from your lipsLike red to mix with the windOf fleeing shepherds to their flock,To all they lost.Your captured memoriesLay lingering upon your beating heart,Lighting aflameThis…
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To be the victim, or to create victims, in a world where tears cannot let go without running far. I held her hand to still her pace from the shore. I held her waist, to continue on the dance through life. I twisted my face, so that pain would be mimicked. I bled my mind…
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“No person is ever content with their own lives, should they be filling the gap in other people with what they should be filling into themselves.” – Modern Romanticism I have treated pain as the source of my creativity. Though, these days, whenever I write a poem, it is not from inspiration. Sadness has always…
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