Poetry
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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
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It’s been the waitleaving the both of usas plain as daylight,with dawn’s washto turn our fleshinto vapor,observing eyesinto mist.We’re here to no longercount the starsfor the infinite tears,present our hopesup on high,because it’s howwe will be soaringto reach Heaven,before its gates.Our tides have turned,catching us startled,making us breathless.Yours is a shape to want,a form that
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It’s been enthrallingto review your ruins,dug in, withoutlimits on the rain,falling in through holes,filling in no cracks.There’s space,as there’s long tracesto backtrack, to findwhat’s been awaitingyourself, in silence,in remembranceof what’s old.You keep condemningthe little slivers,those thin raysof hope, to marvel after,revealing a garden risingfrom a bed of ashes.To give in, to live withinthe infinite colorsupon
Modern Romanticism 