Send a raven, send an owl.
Send a prayer, I ask, how?
She who waltz under the rain,
Also carols amidst the pain.
A song with broken melodies,
rhythm made of remedies.
Makes the closed ears hear,
with the bitter words sound so dear.
Send a raven, send an owl.
She makes a non believer
send a hopeful prayer.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
First among the others.
The blood among the tears.
The salt among the waters.
The sweet among the bitter.
The murderer among the thieves.
Now tell me,
how do you hold a heart?
With a shiv,
or hands with pool of blood?
Now tell me,
how will you leave?
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC
You know you've failed to love a writer when...
you left and she didn't even had the thought to write about you
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
You are back,
yet you have to leave so soon.
You can leave the door open,
I really don't mind.
Just be careful along the road,
mind not,
I will be tired seeking in you in the darkness
so maybe, I will just sit here inside for a while.
But the door is open,
if someone closes that, it won't be me.
But feel free to come back, break the door if you need to.
Just remember, finish the tea before you leave again.
Visit me soon, kay? Ciao
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 6:26 AM UTC
we want to say that we built this house with our hands
with our blood
we built this house and burned it down
we rebuilt this house and burned it down
we rebuilt this house and stayed
i want to tell you that my father builds houses for a living but i have never lived in one
i want to tell you that my mother still asks how you're doing
i want to say that we built this house and it's never abandoned and we are never waiting by the windows
that we always have wood for the fireplace
we never drink alone
i never fall asleep in the shower
in this house our love keeps the lights on
you can feel it through the floorboards like vibrations through a phonograph through the hardwood through your back
we sleep monday through thursday and get paid on weekends to drink whiskey and slow dance in the kitchen
we roll around in bed trying to catch the light
our bodies become curtains or sponges
you soak me up like sunshine and nobody asks where i went
we always finish what we start
i become welcome mat, welcome back, come back,
come home
i turned the basement into a music room
when it rains for you it never floods
we built this house with our hands, with our love, with our blood
there is wood for the fireplace
the flames never spread
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 5:51 PM UTC
*I am not playing the game,
but I am indeed losing.*
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
Have you ever been so broken
that even saying
I miss you,
takes such
a heavy
feeling?
Why?
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
My novel has never ceased on writing itself but
I wonder why it left some pages that should have been filled years ago.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Why all beings have
Their own grasped idea
When they hear
The word love
Why do people
Still pretend
To know its bounds
And what lies behind
Why are they seeking
Definitions and explanations
And ask "will it go too far,
Or just cease with a blur"
Why do others
Get afraid to take again
A step or two
And see a result
Why most people
Hesitate to trust
Thinking they would
Break like fallen glass
Why others do not want
To have this bliss again
Doubtful if they can
Correct the past mistakes
Why some feelings
Were left unspoken
So it would not lead
To ruins of valued things
Why does the mouth
Speaks lies and fiction
Contradicting the rush
Of the flow of the rhyme
Why others perceive
That love can hurt
Yet others believe
It is worth a chance
Why does love
Don't have rules
A set of definite,
Precise expressions
Love may be a whisper
And it indeed varies
Unpredictable
Comes in a surprise
No one can decode
The complexity of it
The only thing you can do
Is to ask "why"
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC