Sadness
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Sundering windslift up the flaps,the loose parts of me,those small areasI can no longer see.All I’m viewingis this descent,this long slope,one way down.All I’m hearingare echoes,those from other’scrying voicestelling me,pleading to meto turn back.I want what I want,while I knowit’s not what I need.I’ve built the bridgeI’ve set on fire,never crossing it.I was half-wayto finding
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It has been all she’s chosen. With words, she find assurance. Even if a promise cannot be kept, she’ll return to the shell. She’ll return to where what had been audible was first a whisper. She’ll seek comfort in that. Wide-eyed, curious of mind, and with an appetite to want something that never moves, she’s
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A shadow has been extending from a motionless figure. How long has it been going for? How long has she been seated there, counting leaves that descend due to meeting their time? In the corporeal world, it has been a mere minute. But in her mind, her presence in this position, this stagnation, has been
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Fragile,MournfulOf the snow that takes shapeOf a man’s crumpled hand,With edgesThat carry him down. Weakened,OvertakenOf the breaking mind,Wallowing in sustenanceToo heavy to hold,Though he walks. BleedingSunrise, into the wastesOf burned fields,Sickened moors,Orchards that loose more applesThan ever he did of sin. Will waterQuenched the starved lips,Reminiscent of a kissNever allowed? Will the moonShow its true
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“People’s lives don’t end when they die. It ends when they lose their faith. Will it be death while still holding strong to faith, or a long life gained by renouncing it?” – Hanzo of the Salamander (Naruto)
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“Why else would the Cat Lady amuse herself with a storm of cats? Why else, if not to cover up her loneliness with cats? Obsession is that which one cannot move past from, for depression digs one into a hole, into the ground where one no longer walks, though is a particle of the past.
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Why ever do rightness unto another, when distrust is gathered upon you, blanketed by those I once did love? It is you I love, yet it is they I am forced to resent. It is you I am forced to say is the most important essence. That, to go back to a former time, would
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She holds a smile in her hands, while filming the ocean’s sounds with her heart. Sounds that return to her, upon when the waters lick the shoreline. Sounds that matter only to a world that never responded quick enough, upon when sickness took her beloved. A world that only gave a whisper from a dying
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“How many tears could a man have concealed upon a time when he was hungry, when to soon realize upon his loss that he was only thirsty? A man lives, to drink in what he never felt.” – Modern Romanticism
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Breaking between syllables, this painter is lost in his wreckage. A void for discovery’s sake, to see a face that looks back to his pain, to the absence. As this memory unites with himself, a hollowness begins to become so apparent in its torture. Just a single pang of loneliness, doubt, and uncertainty to keep
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“It is never that a person feels pain for what is present, though rather for what is absent.” – Modern Romanticism
Modern Romanticism 