Creative Writing
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Never-mindingwhat came beforethis inclinationof yours,because you punisheverything that comes,afterwards.It’s all written there.It’s a long historyburned into the moon,dancing on your eyesthat are blurredto the heat of the sun.You fall into lasting sleep,after another sessionof tears like autumn leaves.You’re hoping that,before your resurrection,you will drown.I see the smile,sensing what’s therebeyond its crease.You aren’t here,diseased with grief,departed
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Depositing soundsin the iron of an old wound,I am nowhere, foreverfearing myself,taking an endless turnto hear the moonof its laughter.There is no one left,while I am shoulderinga final, forbidden prayer,living where eonshave their domain.Who sees me,crippled in the flowof a shower of dust?The morning is solitaryin what it inviteswith its searing glare.The evening is cementinga
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Birthed as a child,while rising on wingsnot of your own.You’ve built a fortressfor your tears,for your defeated yearsto be rememberedwhen captured.There are no framesseeking your face,to reveal your smilewhen it has neverbeen drawn.To the candleflame,over to the deathof your vacant name,life channels youto revisit a beginningthat gave you up.Your footfalls are solid,while your skinbecomes the
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Its strengthis a kind of madness,deciding the actsin what I create,behind the curtains,beneath being buriedwith layering sheets.Its musicis not of sadness,while I’m livingfor the purposeof being this closeto a rhythm.A heartbeat,heard in long echoesthrough longer hallways.I’ve been rewritten,adding pagesto this state of bliss,revisiting stagesrepresented in a kiss.Who is Godfor giving whathas ripped me open?I am
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Deprivation stretchesthe angles, letting lingerthe distortions,those that creep upas you lie down.You drown in the night,with tears floodingthe space beside you,the one reflectingone twisted image.A void is releasingall of its sirens,all of these screamsyou’re containing.A window is reviewingthe worth of wordsyou speak to the skyon broken knees.What pain for itsexhibition in memories,revealing a stainthat can’t
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You’re always enveloped,denying grace, resisting space,clinging to shadows,those that void you,those you crawl up to.There’s nothingfor me to expose,when it is your woundsunstitched, undressedon your velvet skin.I am leaving you a kiss,watching your breathon its way out,on your way outthe unfortified door.You’ve sheltered yourselfin a knot, in a twist,buried under blue skiesyou deliberately miss.Can you
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I’ve been beggingwhile not getting acrosswherever this journeyis leading me.I’ve been cryingto leave droplets,hoping for anotherto follow.It’s become a riverto drown a shadow.It’s made no reflectionduring a moonless night.All light is hidden,without being framedas captured lessons.Imprisonment is this,inside an echoing shellwith no corners.What’s feeding meto continue moving?What’s needing meto drag on the miles?My shoulder I
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Give life to it,with leaking dropsfalling from unified,verified storms.Hopes have grace,just as we’re showingan empire of sounds,as the criespushed throughthe cracksbetween fingers.It was oncewhen we kissedunder moonless,exposed skies.That was oncewhen we were notprone to hide,falling to slide.Give life back to it,during a timewith space devotedto our sensations.Sadness smileswhen it has nothingbut its emptinessto decorate.White wallsare
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Enough has driven usto the furthest edge,bordered on drainingour scars of theirconnected meaning.Life has misused us,in the seconds we cravedto drift us on,holding onto glass,floating on a reflectionwithout letting go.Love could tastethe eclipse we causedwhen we’d forgetwhat this place was for,designed for us to knowwhy ashes are snow.The cold is a glimpseinto warmth, into the
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Your choice is tosurrender to silence,burden your eyeswith visions of violence.It is this,while you neverfind sustenancein the fountains,in the tearswandering awayfrom your shadows,your veil.When it swells,you sink underthe invited storms,crashing withthe onslaughtof waves.Something withinthe preferred maladyallows for thisto keep you entertained,to continue your refrainfrom the cure,the long road.Life is speakingone hollow tune,unravelling youfrom your rootsto
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A circle is encouraging meto keep following itto where it’s leading meback to the start,back to whereyou’re not there.I flood a pairof crystalline eyeswith the blurthat adds itselfto a line I’ve drawnin the sand.It’s a line that oncedivided a trusted kindnessfrom a scorned crueltyto keep me knowingwhat I fought for.I am not sureof what is
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You were given time,with a second pairof loose handsas your light,with each momentpassing with the releaseof one person’s graspthat didn’t matter.I took you into me,for I had been thinkingyou were one eternal,lasting blessing.You took this to meanthat something must bealways wrong with it -to be wrong to commit.Seconds were the minutes,as minutes were the hoursthat’ll
Modern Romanticism 