Friendship
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A heart takes its journey,Takes its tollTo the beats of a staircaseWith the jog upon its slope,To find you seatedWith blue to the skies of your eyes,While messages are folded in your hands,As Heaven was never warmer. Your smile,An elegance I have awaited.Though you will not trust me,Remaining in my flame,As I am,I adore the
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“Turn to that person who is undergoing sobbing, to the person who holds the noose about their neck. You are their strength, their pillar to lean on, as it cannot be them. In your mind, it should not be the case that they’d suffer, alone.” – Modern Romanticism There is no beauty in development. Of
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“There will never be a heart within a chest if that chest is not meant to be opened. It becomes then a coffin, holding something dead.” – To not Sink a Friend
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“She raises that head, to reveal the streaming face of hers, running as painful flames, as lava, from two eyes like twin suns. As though the fire in her was the only thing to raise the face, revealing the same trickles, the same tendrils, both in tear stains and expression.” – To not Sink a
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It is that our heroism ignites our own flag stabbed in the ground’s hole, that we know how love also feels. Oh, the weakness, the sicknesses that are raised so much like the flag, that it never stands evenly. It motions with the winds that run like treading fear through a less-than-stable mind. Love. That
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I swear To hold the world up. Each tragedy shall fall at my command, Each bitter tear shall drop to never again be seen, Each angle shall turn into a beautiful curve Of your now broken flesh. I want to hold the mirror to your face For us both To notice a smile That does
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Upon when the face of winterStrikes my saddened eyes to shed a tear,Like one misplaced note, upon where a harp sitsOn the Chariot, with a woman and her fingersStriking the strings to play them, aloud,It is here, when I fall into love, once more. She has spoke of the turmoil.One child, one disease upon that
Modern Romanticism 