Writing
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I’ve been countingyour breaths, among seconds,lost in this momentwhere a dose of tranquilitykeeps us buried.For your scars,your memoriesto go blank,I must inserta promiseinto your open heart,being as vulnerableas your body.Untying knots,leaving behind what willnot ever be erased.I will returnto greet your ghost,or who you are.We must believethat nighttime is notas divided from its partner,unified with…
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Blinded reception,betraying our vowto a sunrisehighlighting what tearswe let fall from eyeswe let watch.We are descendingin the instinct to flee,leading senselessnessinto clarity.Our home is burningfor ashes, to be collectedin our unclean palms.The laughter we emitdisguises our tragedyin the making.Once, we were lostin its welcomed state,believing it bestto be imprisonedin hearts that were,at that time,not made…
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Relaying a message,receiving failure, once morein its futile attempt.I’ve been waking upto hear your call,screaming in the silence,pacing after the expressionof unmatched violence.What can I wield,if not a torch to illuminateall walls in this heart?A sword will cut downthose shadows that linger,blocking this path,where I wander.Burning through electricalcircuits of a fuming mind,while I tell a…
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To him, all that has manifested in this aftermath might be said to be all he expected. All that destruction of a form, all because he took a different direction. Had he lied to himself at that second? All he wanted was relief. A different place to put his sanity. To whatever was left of…
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Opening windowsfor a storm to come in.I have invited clarityto shelter me,to let me releasethese words,meaning to decreaseall that’s residual.Tell me to topple houses,using wind, with purpose.Tell me to uproot treesif that will ever easethe support of a cemented,deformed history.I will be willingto break these bones,those that lift darknessup to the surface.I cannot see my…
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Contemplative, but notreversing your unkinddirection, back intosalvation’s representation.You wither, while youare nourished from rain,stamping your retreatin countless footprints.Will you ever rephrasehow you’ve demonstratedyour desire to sealall that’s been revealed?You see in one direction,noticing a glimmer, in vanity.You lock your wordsupon deceit’s grave comfort.You’ve smelled the ironcoming from blooming wounds,but nothing keeps youfrom surrendering this disguise.Nothing…
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Wash it down,whatever bitternessis ever left, as it cannotremain when weare better to bejoined like twins.I must knowwhat artisan crafted you,to be this surgeof nighttime glimmer.You are not to beanymore distant thanwhere you stand.I will admirethis elevation of radiancethat I’ve desired,while it bleeds from youinto the setting sun.Under the rising moon,you’ve been burned intothis etched…
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Trace those wordsmaking marks on your lips,in the dust, and alwaysbeing retraced for a funeral’sconstant tolling of a bell.I’ve been living in it,internalizing what’s dreadedin those darker hours.I’ve been inviting it,like a long-lost friendwho gasps, doesn’t speak.I never wanted this,an eclipse of a minddrained into becomingmore of the void,in our universe.Tracing what you’ve said,a mirror…
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Defying it,the feeling of warmthfrom the rising sunmelting residual scornbleeding from eyesyet to be unblinded,yet to be reborn.Underneath this darknessis more darkness, to beburied in its endless,cementing hallways.I bleed upon when Iweep to those sounds,far beyond where Ishelter myself.Laughter sings somewhereoutside of shadows,within this inhabited town,apart from an abandoned,regressive mind.In sickness, I am mergingbruised flesh…
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As deep as this heartcan ever be moved,will be similar toas far back as promisescan be reversed intoa previous life.I cannot peer intoa void, without eyesbeing blinded tobecome nothing butdiamond dust.Why were wealways fleeingfrom each other’ssoothing arms?Why have wetortured our souls,living for nothingbut the pressure?Stopping bleedingwas never to be likehow we stoppedour glowing heartsfrom beating.We…
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You’ve been collectingthorns for withered roses.I have been collectingthoughts for a vase,built from cracked glass.I’ve hoped for growthfor the both of us,though a funeral hasalready been prepared,with one coffin,with not enough roomfor the both of us.Can these tearslift us from our roots?We were once infants,but we were notmeant to leave this earthweeping like howwe entered…
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This final touchto revisit a moment,clouded in memory.I am bringing fragranceto your burned petals,between the ivory.I am bringing what mightraise tears from a fractured,faultless mind.Hand of water, going toa space, littered with ash.We are here to dance,while we rememberwhat we wrote, on ourhearts of silver.Shimmering withina spread of looking-glass,as a flood narrows myattention to your…
Modern Romanticism 