Poetry
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It was honest.It wasn’t true,because the light,that one that let usalways thrivehad extinguished.It was potent.It didn’t last,alongside the rushwe felt during timeswe were buriedin the dark.Hope kept us goingwhen eyes were lookingto thinning horizons.Grace kept us upright,as hearts were poundingon fragile reflections.Before it’s timeto let us go,we should decoratethe memories that followwith as little bitterness,as
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You reflectedfor a better chance,to be the one to decidewhere light can hide.You rememberedwhat no one knewabout what you were,within the dark.You thrived to escape,seeking solaceamong fading structure,to teem in isolation.A waste of eternityis what you lived on,for a single second.It’s this ephemeral,evanescent outpourof your glamor.It sank into the sea,for just you to receiveall you
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Among sands,we wrote our names,incorrectly.We drifted apart,leaving the lettersto be smothered.Winds were pullingour trembling arms,towards a setting sun.It was a designationto where we would flee,as our war was over.It entered anticipation,reentering ceremonyfor the depictionof two marble statues,looking at the otherin their disbelief.It enters our memories,when the pain becamewhat we dined over,while our worlds swamin different
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Silence is your golden arrowpiercing me throughthe throat, where words hide,where promises thrive.You know what I let into you,when you thirsted overeverything you had insistedwas of dire importance.It was always your life,never at all the strifeaffecting the perseveranceI was presenting.You are standing there,with arms outstretched.What else will be next,if not to save your breath?You speak
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It’s not like whatlove songs write about,during days too storied,nights too silent.It’s the coldI lend my worrywhen to winter’s white,there is revision,there’s recollection.It’s not like whatpreachers preach about,when love is their muse,their repeated reasoning.It’s the hand,missing from its spotwithin mine.It’s this worldthat swims withoutneeding a breeze.It’s the sicknessthat stirs in warmth -a fever from overhead,a
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It’s not a secret.What we both suffered,it had no flavor,not even the bitternessthat we’d savor.To love, it was ourmost twisted disguise,shaping two facesthat had no choicebut to hide.This downfallof what little we built,this downpourof our sliding teardropshad all seconds to saywe had held onfor a mouthful of decay.To make our own imagefrom these tatters,from the
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Here’s to white-out,to one of our breathless,dreamless storms.Here’s to what’s imagined,highlighted as nothingin this fragile smokescreen.What would our purpose be,if we went on to give morethan what we first had?It’s the anticipationthat we had bled for,exposing aching limbsamong the dirt.It’s the echoing soundsthat gave us comfort,in that space of belongingwe weren’t meant for.All the meadows
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Earthen eyesquake from debristhrown at them.There is nothingto have as salvagefrom a pillaged empire.There is justthese words to repeat,those that aren’t just,being those I mustspeak anyway.For I am reviewingwhat I’ve lost,what I have tossedat a blue skyon delicate knees.It came at a cost,as it ended with lossof much once dreamedto be visible.There’s these scarsdrawn as
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You don’t knowabout this flood,the one,the stagnating onewhere a worldswims backinto memory.I told you that Icould remain afloat.I told you I am strongwhen sadnessis relentless.It was the time that Isaid such words,but it is here,it is right nowI am drowning.Blackness swirlsin this infinite depth.Bitterness churnsamong racing thoughts.I cannot scream,while I am tryingto contain this pain,always
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What’s silent for youhas been loud for me,because I am screamingfor these tearsto reverse their tide,for these yearsto tell me why.You were one more angelevicted from Heaven,sent into the heartof one who called for oneto accept a vow.I have been tempted,seduced from a crythat rolled down armsthat trembled,that were held out.I am shielding whimpers,like I
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It is your lightthat would not leave,even with thick curtainsblocking its approach.You had commandedwhat I could give,even dipping in palmsclasping mere air.I surrenderedalways during secondswhen I rememberedwhat your trialslooked like.I let you live freefrom the circle of stonesI set around me.I was a prisoner,trapped behind a veilthat had begun to forcea kind of kindness.Love is
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This aftermath is milesfrom that first step.Walking over a cliffnever felt this treacherous.I must returnto a unified reflection,burned into memorywith smoke to breathe,with a historyto unsee.I must choke on fumesif that means I can repair,what wasn’t the flare,wasn’t the lightguiding me throughfossilizing nights.I must hear the wordsI had dismemberedfrom a mind,one that had fallenfrom its
Modern Romanticism 