Creative Writing
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You’ve hung on,carrying shadows,trailing dustfrom your moth-like,unfolded wings.There’s everythingthat curtainswill not containif you wish,if you listen.Let your lossbe the lightthat fills the voidyou mean toescape into.Come close tostare in a mirrorwhere your desolate,feeble figuretrembles in terrorfor what you findtoo slowto be what saves.Your decaying heartleaves debrisin your smile,where liesare conceived,while a lifeis deceived.A noose will
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Enforcement calls,sympathizing with tormentthat dulls itselfto a soothed hum,a whisper in myformless heart.I am nowhere nearwhat I hope to be,lingering with tragedyas this life’songoing blight.There is somethingto hold, with much morewith withhold,drawing remembered,dismantled facesin the dustfrom an hourglass.I continue with lightdying for itself,under the breathof profanity.I move onwardwith a fractured frame,capturing a depictionof this heating
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For terror to incur,for fire to surrender for,you are tumblingwith weeds at your kneeswhere you are kneeling.The sun is risingat a horizonyou are unable to see,walking with iron,with strengthleaking from veins.You look backto see the developing,enveloping fogthat surrounds sceneryyou need to abandon.There’s nothing there,besides the great emptinessyou’ve held on for.Will you ever retracewhere your harboring
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A year, forwardwith painted lettersdissolved into smears,laced with tears.All of them, delicatein their storied approachinto the next yearwhere details are similar.I face the folds,trace the secondsback to their epiphany.I am naked where I go,holding on, while it snowsa shower from the gray.There are pacesbeing memorized,as there are pagesnever to be rewritten,when surroundingsare this frozen.It has
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It was meant asone last teardropleft to let go,to discard false smilesthat let us get pastthe silent storms.Under the rain,we sheltered our fire,bringing its heatinto our hearts.It was enoughfor hope to stayas our leading flame,our treasured name.But it wasn’t enoughto see Hell awayfrom those spaceswe kneeled to pray.It wasn’t enoughto have what we wanted,with kisses
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I find myselffitting in,falling in with it -this surroundingcircumstance,one that adds pressureto a heart, alreadyseeking escape.In fear, I circulate,while I also hope tofind some wayto get away.There will bewhat puddles I leaveto adorn the trail,before I set sailfar from winter’sconcealed edge.I want to findemerging serenityin this disappearance,holding hands witha smoother extremity.Wide-eyed,being petrified,having lost lines atjagged
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A path for the lostcan remain as one’ssole dedication,can limit redemption,while twists are keptto the windsthat lead them.To search for a cureto a solace, embeddedin sheer darkness,one must dig uptheir darkened heartto bring it to an oceanfor the long swim.Though, to not sink,that same heartmust sing with its rhythmthat keeps life alive.It must embracethe surge,
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A leaf must beseparated from the herd,parted from the restthat fell from the same tree,got lost from the sameoutstretched arm.You’ve alwayscounted up to one,deciding that numberis better than none.You are alwaysreviewing the seasonswithin chaos,where its changeremains your name.You are alwaysunaware of what follows,melted into a shadowstaying as a feverto coat your cheeksin their redness.You last
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It has sudden snowto paint your worldinto a blank slate,while not ever trulycovered up.You’re just quickto revisit a fate,turning your clockbackwards,constantly.Your faceechoes continuityin all the musclesthat lose tensiononly when the snowturns to rain.Go aheadto walk it off,until the moon arrivesto drive you under.Wake up decayinglike when you fellinto another slumber,fading beneath starswhile treasuringyour banquet of
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On that dotted line,unwrite the namethat’s given you blame,that’s not allowed youan able opportunityto ever revise.When will yourefrain yourselffrom compellingthe rain to fallfrom the inside?Storms don’t chaseafter your streams,colored in black.You are the onewho forever runsfor the clouds.Straining your songwith your pleas,with your bargaining.It’ll remain aroundif it helps youto coincide.You’ve misused your voice,dissolved yourself of
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Misted windowwhere eyes are metwith a dim reflection,that is whereyou have foundyour lair,your lie.If those echoesfrom your screamscome back,returns to you,what will you do?What could you doonce it is firethat has given youthe means to seewhere you’re wounded,temporarily?This isn’t eternitythat you see,because this is notwhere spacereserved roomfor your grace.If you want,I could drag it out,just
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Spill from your eyesthe sequences,the sympathyfor what you knowI will do.You reflectfrom within tears,the strangenessin all that circumventsthe true poisonthat circulates.It instigates,as you anticipatethe added fractureto an old woundthat never mends,until it is youwho doesn’t pretendthis isn’t for show.Others have giventheir dose of concern,others have addedtheir color to the patternwhere pain ripples,where peace fadesinto stardust.You’ve
Modern Romanticism 