Creative Writing
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“We always lean to kiss the flame that is never meant to wither, like the flower.” – To not Sink a Friend
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We were nothing more To be everything less Than a mountain To shadow the sea. Love is our story, Our complexity, Our safety, Though we bleed so much, With tears that stream Down to our frozen chins. That mountain, Our love, Lowest In its deepening cratered Shallows Where anger raises up, For that mountain Is…
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Holding a cup, Wielding my own tears in a basket, I drunk from The solid silver To spill the same color Upon the radiant soil. It had rained from somewhere else, As sprouts grew from someplace else. I felt the rocking, The quaking Beneath my soles, Wanting my eyes to leak The same stains To…
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You enveloped me, Roped me into years of bleeding, Gave me nice words To the next degree Of splendid heat. I felt your churning Down in Earth’s bowels. Can you hold onto the kindness, Or would you Rather withdraw to the blindness? The darkness suits you more, More than the notes upon doors, More than…
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I fall with you Down to the embers With the morning dew. I stay with you In hearts so filled with contrast To light, To bright tears On the waking mind In the dismal shine. We bleed, so much alike. Like new droplets Upon the petals During a storm That leaves its mark, upon the…
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Without me, in arms, I bleed only reflection. The memory of a forsaken vow To the embodiment of now. The world has deceit Rising in reverse Angles, made to mangle Our eyes, to our very feet. Love is a triangle, An emotion without circles. Blood rises, to then fall Down to the distant call. I…
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Can you choose Which part of your heart To lose Upon the path, the lonely road That takes a dive Into the plummet of Hell? I seem to have forsaken myself, For the gift to another. Her eyes, bead back disgrace, In tears that drop from weather’s face. Storms siphon humanity From the melting pot,…
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She stands so Hellish. She would move so Hellish. Lisa whites out her flame, her spark for a dream, before a sleep ever began. She stands in a fire, and walks in the inferno, for she likes the burn to touch her. She looks at herself around the flame’s tendrils, like its form can be…
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Lean out your life, Broken, into the next page. The messenger With his scribbles Is so often, the hastily-written note. Let the tyrant fall From your heart, For he has eclipsed enough stars. Will you pledge your safety In my arms? Holding nails to the cross, While your wrists bleed a trail. We can drink…
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How could all Discover where I call? I am merely two inches buried in my grave, In my Hell, In my storm. There is abounding scenery Displaced from this world, Of bones, Crosses, Fields lined with dead mice. She left a teardrop to my empty hand, Drawing herself away From my distant mind. Now when…
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It is that My eyes have only ever cried For you Under the haze of a dying sun’s Weathering flame. The sadness Will show me gladness, Will lead me straight Into your fragile hold That I can match myself. We are two broken figures Finding balance With our feet upon the snow. We are cripples…
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She knelt in the fog, Hoping for elsewhere To take her somewhere, Anywhere, But here. Her curls lifted From the surrounded shade About her forehead, Auburn in each strand, Loosened by each tress. She fled, While she bled, Soon as she lifted Herself, to see the moon. All of love Deprived, from her, From the…
Modern Romanticism 