Writing
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She is that, within herself and behind her tears. She holds the moon for her solace, with the sun for her shame. A life so wrenched, with idle strands before her forehead. She beads the tension to the surface of porcelain skin. A woman, who so wants to be held, without slipping free. A little…
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I curl around A form, that steps around The rocks, that shelter Her beginning to be hidden. Love leaves soft trails On the path so unspoken Beneath her sighing lips. I want to say That the world was without you, Though, you came Without pain. Could you kiss? Could you melt Like candles that have…
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Without me, in arms, I bleed only reflection. The memory of a forsaken vow To the embodiment of now. The world has deceit Rising in reverse Angles, made to mangle Our eyes, to our very feet. Love is a triangle, An emotion without circles. Blood rises, to then fall Down to the distant call. I…
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Can you choose Which part of your heart To lose Upon the path, the lonely road That takes a dive Into the plummet of Hell? I seem to have forsaken myself, For the gift to another. Her eyes, bead back disgrace, In tears that drop from weather’s face. Storms siphon humanity From the melting pot,…
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She stands so Hellish. She would move so Hellish. Lisa whites out her flame, her spark for a dream, before a sleep ever began. She stands in a fire, and walks in the inferno, for she likes the burn to touch her. She looks at herself around the flame’s tendrils, like its form can be…
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“We are lonely of the heart, not of the form, when we have lost what the form will collapse, without.” – “To not Sink a Friend”
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Lean out your life, Broken, into the next page. The messenger With his scribbles Is so often, the hastily-written note. Let the tyrant fall From your heart, For he has eclipsed enough stars. Will you pledge your safety In my arms? Holding nails to the cross, While your wrists bleed a trail. We can drink…
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How could all Discover where I call? I am merely two inches buried in my grave, In my Hell, In my storm. There is abounding scenery Displaced from this world, Of bones, Crosses, Fields lined with dead mice. She left a teardrop to my empty hand, Drawing herself away From my distant mind. Now when…
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It is that My eyes have only ever cried For you Under the haze of a dying sun’s Weathering flame. The sadness Will show me gladness, Will lead me straight Into your fragile hold That I can match myself. We are two broken figures Finding balance With our feet upon the snow. We are cripples…
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She knelt in the fog, Hoping for elsewhere To take her somewhere, Anywhere, But here. Her curls lifted From the surrounded shade About her forehead, Auburn in each strand, Loosened by each tress. She fled, While she bled, Soon as she lifted Herself, to see the moon. All of love Deprived, from her, From the…
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He heals pain, Wallows in their shame, Wants to conceal the cracks within life, Wants to hold the world upright. He turns it silver, As his tears in the moonlight. He holds a candle to the dim barrage Of a halo above it, To the moon, at its summit. He holds the empty pages For…
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Can you see? Oh, God, Can you see How the waters travel from people’s eyes? They curl against walls, Against the passersby shadows, To make rivers from their snaking movements. Rivers run To the ends of roads, Reddest in the sun, Blackest beneath the moon.
Modern Romanticism 