Creative Writing
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Stumbling overrewritten words,begging this worldto forget our heaventhat was never evenbrought to imagination.I could have lovedfor another eternity.I could have livedwithout her safety.I could have retractedmy heart, with one roseto the angel I protectedfrom crisscrossing storms.But I leaptto surroundingsall adjacent,all batteredfrom pouring skies,as I had nothing leftto hold, to hide.Undress, with me,this dust around a…
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Reused remedywithin those approaching waves.What comes with sadnessother than a familiar song?What else cleansthese wounds, more thanwhere eternity belongs?I stare into blackness,as it hides behind a storm.It rains upon midnight,where each silver dropletstill gleams, from a fading moon.What will give me an anchor,to remain still, to keep meas I am, when I want to bebound…
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White clothsadorn her listless form,as I sing aloudthis despair, as a dark cloudwanders from Heaven’s ruin.Nothing would revive it,when bitterness sounds a bellhanging from a lonesome tower.I am inside of it,this heart that reusesa winter of her passing.Dressed in snowthat never melts,for what would it revealother than cold fleshthat cannot feel?I am, in stopped tracksadorned…
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Renewed debatewith a tragedythat keeps our formsin the middle.We mediate our tearsthat keep arrivingto flood our colorless room,upon midnight gloom.We wish to be freefrom what we are stagnating.A pain that cleans itselfwithin brutal tempests,as we walk countless footsteps,standing at the same timeas we are falling.Holding close our handsinto a grasp or an airtight prayer,suffocating hope…
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You used tolet the smoke riseup to engraved eyes,while I kissed each fingerthat burned on its endlike a wick, for a breaththat would never extinguish.We were used toour desires being rushed,our dreams being crushed.We were accustomedto what would continue todraw imperfect circlesaround our wounded forms,in the sand.I used tohope beyond remorse,wading towards a sunrise,while you…
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You were savingyour name for another’s list,your smile for someone else’sbruised, smothered lips.What love, in our heartacheto burst to be beneathour trampling feet?I began to love,while you began to drainall that ink upon the whitefrom your eyes,coated in lies.You were selling your heartto another, a mere thiefwho would never return it.In pain, counting grainsupon this…
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Tracing you,outlined under these signsof a sunset clashing withsilver breath, caught underclouds of a fading winter.Because I want to remember,even if that means to rekindlea pain that should surrenderto coming warmth,healing’s veil.A cloak of stardust,a blend betweenwisdom and the reachfor something else, other thanwhat did more to abandonthan to teach.A dove’s feathersof a wedding’s white,for…
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Heaviness has keptour forms from having leaptfrom that cliff,because we were reminding usto what makes the weight,reflected in tears we’ve wept.To feet, stagnant in stone,with skin that became morealigned with a wishful kind,more with an eternal sortto be counting these shardsof a reflection, to sort.In an ocean, tedium had becomewhat we were under the moon.We’ve…
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On your stranded shore,there had been a light -a candle, one that meltedto reveal a cavity.It revealed that spacewhere you were buried,as you’ve found a wayto be released.From sobbing eyes,you are unveiled.From bleeding lips,you are whisperingwhat you have alwayswished to unfold.A candle, of your own,being a warm sentimentto decide at somethingyou’ve put off,while you were…
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Who faced you the wrong way?We were children, in our touch,transparent in our promises,loving in our aptitudeto filter through our fingerswhat was meant to last.But you are crossing over,after a defeated existenceleft you feeling lonely.You recognize what to uncoverbeyond another beaten door,where there’s somethingless concealed, less smothered.A kiss could not reconnectthese wires of ongoing sounds,because…
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I hear, through those woods,playing back to me in rhythmsof an oaken heartbeat,that there’s everythingto be afraid of,while I wait to sleep,as I clash in these shadows,passing time as I weep.I fear, within these thudsamong a sheltering existencethat rain can come in heaviness,more than where I’m buriedin a bed made of dust.I am ill, to…
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That final step to takeburied you deep,kept you far – far fromwho will not everventure to your hiding place,drowned in a flood,cradled in the dark.To pure eyesthat see something else,I am not adopting themwhen I cannot clean these handsof what gets dragged in,in piles of nothingness.Mountains of ashesbrought skyward,laid out as miserable cushionsfor me to…
Modern Romanticism 