Grief
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Love walks. She walks. Or, she had walked, and now she lays. Upon a back with eyes to a ceiling. Her ceiling. Her mind with walls and the drawn-in above. A world of hers, this Lisa, who can smile without sincerity. Radiance makes its way over her skin, masking something more than this. A belief…
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It is initial, that one will be in the stage of denial, while anger will accompany it, soon after. One, in denial, is frustrated that the matter took place, that the loss took place, as such anger will spark tears. One lashes out, because acceptance is so far away from the current tension. In recent…
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Her appearance had been, as it still is, a force of endearment over Anton’s visage, washing his face with her colors. Everything he was witness to, during her life, is again, written even now in every crease to his cheeks and lips. It is this way, while he strains to withhold tears. While he strains…
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It is somewhat often that a man will find himself to be nestled near to silence, as if his arms were wrapped about the form of a woman. Her comfort is brought into that solace, that silence, because she seemingly has nothing to fear. What of Anton? He raises himself, to form steps with the…
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I begged her song to be written for me, in what colors she could pour out, from a throat made of silver. Though, I simply waited while her sigh, the last one, drew out the silver breath from her lungs, against the fiery coldness of winter. Of what I saw, of that silver breath, against…
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Close your fatal wings around me, Once more. Close your bladed arms around me, Once more, For I know you will do so To demand forgiveness. My face is kissed With lips soaked in venom. My childlike face is the maturity of a turnip, Still a seed. Her eyes see the next pain to deal…
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There was once a time when the poetry I wrote possessed much feeling. Now when I write them, the feelings only bleed out, rather than erupt like a geyser. I rarely feel the “chills” I usually get when listening to my favorite songs, nor do I cry like I used to. I enjoyed weeping when…
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From my mouth, bellows howlsTo the moon, from the wretchedness I have become. From my eyes, there come steamAfter many long night in woeful screams. From my eyes, there soars the skiesAnd the creatures that sail upon my backDrink me, the martyr,The one who died for another.She lays floatingUpon a lake, with lifelessness to every…
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Do not cross the manWith suffering where he stands,For he is bound to break youAnd leave with tears you do not seeRoaring down his pallid cheeks. Do not accuse the manWhose smile is never shown,When all you see is the frownWhen he is always downAs the most visible self. His pain has eclipsed his mind,To…
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Where shall I dump my painIf it is from a cloud? Where shall I dump the current loadIf it only sails upstream? The clouds war with the groundAnd bless the daylight with their grief.Just as God would like to have made Man a perfect imageOf His reflection.Life is too crude,Too undoneOf knots meant to hold…
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Send intoMe, when you’ll come to bleedThe song of a mocking siren.Kisses are the texture of velvet upon your mouth,While dreams lay wasted in fields that do not want to runAmok with the seedsFor new beginnings. Life has been a cruel displayOf utter dismay. My desires flee from my parted lips,Like sighs from one burthened…
Modern Romanticism 