Creative Writing
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Am I not that signwhom you’ve shadowed?An anchor has kept you kneelingin hopes, for something elseto drop, to keep you close, or closer. In love, with a methodof having your arms outspread,your mouth wide open,hoping for what will connect,will come to rekindlea familiar rush. Who will you find,who will come from behind?He will rope his…
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Will you ever beanything other than anotherroaming, scentless petal,floating always withinthose ripples,of your current time?In finding shells upon a shore,you’ve become hollow.In seeking Hell,with nothing of yours to adore,you’ve stayed to wallow. Will that mask,hiding your tearsfor your colorful portrait,ever come loose?You’ve driven daggersfor open wounds,for open doors, but you arenever coming undone,while you have…
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I pull lettersfrom open chests,carve white into greywhere memories fade,are washing awayinto discoloration. I’ve taken those lettersforming sentences,at a sentencing to a lovethat wouldn’t stop breathing. I felt that rushof cold air, from barren lungs,when pain floatedup from an ocean’s bottomto meet me, to chastise me,for what I couldn’t believe. I had to let goof…
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Torn through, dense fibers,of your ceaseless repression.Are you growing, with this vanityin knowing that you are yearningfor something that is stirring? I have lifted your veil,drifted down your throatto your heart, decorated in embers,from piles of rotten kindling. I have remembered your tale,as one more raindropfor an endless ocean.There had never been a seed,nor anything…
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Fatal silhouette,who would you bewhen you are reminding meof what cannot be?I am losing the ideal,helping myself, letting myselflet go of your hand,letting you fallto those unknown depths. You remain, in mind,choosing to be behindunder earth, buried to bethe kin of your kind. You remain as a stainon this damaged heart,strangled by its own veins,written…
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I know I’ve been cruelthrough saving nothing morethan a shard from a broken mirror.I bled you to keep you warm,while I judged your fearsto not be your comfort, because I thought that holding youwould mean to sink intoyour thoughts, where you are gathered. I thought to understandsomeone, who was hungby one delicate strand.One thin wireof…
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In this abyssof a watering moment,I am pullingat what keeps guessingwhen it keeps pushing meto keep her open.I am pulling closer,though she remains far,enough to disbelievewhere her roots extend. I want her to roamnot from east to west,though to a subtle northto begin sensinga hidden, time-worn sensationdeserted to a disheartened chestthat loves, without thinking. In…
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I am still sinking in,with thoughts that overturnothers, on this blinding pathwaywhere sunlight keeps me going –but where am I going? Back again, to those aimless ways,over to that field where growthhad been an intrusion of thorns.Color was always a thin mist,while hauntings were those clouds,gathered for memorial.Rain would bring nothing up,besides repetition, of an…
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Dilated pupils.There’s a voidwhere you surround yourselfin white markings, petals of a fallen conception. I have answered you,while you have rememberedone other time,making this another timeto fold a spoken promise,into a predicted deception. Fragile one,come climbingonto that dark horsethat will send you surging. Will you run freewith blinding wind,carrying your tearsto fill your depth? It…
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Hold it out, as I have –a heart forged from stone.Your touch is brought intoseamless limelight,while vague words are yoursto save yourselfwhat what’s destined to flower. That heart has healedlike a broken bone, into distortion,taking its dive, coming downto sink into an endless ocean. Your hands are upon it,letting it be shroudedin your dark. You’ll…
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Bold ones,catering to a blessingthat went out with a candleonce raised,without exhalationto reveal hesitation. Here’s to that lightthat kept refusing us,in our blinded sight. I have been the last onequestioning where you came from.You were, gone with those winds,leaving the same wayyou came in. A long way to walkfrom your delicate rush.No one knew your…
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Inflamed, to touch himmeans to see somethinggoing black, in widening daylight.A scar, a burn, a bruise,a sore that neglects, that ignoreshis uncontrolled fire. Leave him with his torch.Do not bring it forth,humming his tunebeneath the radiance of Neptune.His tears are his ocean to find,where his face paints a trail, never failing to remind himof a…
Modern Romanticism 