She's a wicked flower that blooms in Elysian fields
Like a crack in a glass that makes you think twice whether to drink the wine or not
She can smell like ten packs of cigarettes but yet still look so innocent
And because of that, all her imperfections makes her beautiful
She sells death in tiny packages
Whenever she hands out a light for your cancer stick
Or make eyes with you across the hallway
and in a blink you can just fall in love with her
In a peculiar way, in a somewhat hopeless way,
In a way that makes you dauntless, but also makes you so vulnerable
And all of that put together, amounts it to be unconditional.
Because love only dies in the hands of those who had given up to see how much longer it can live.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 9:05 AM UTC
Walked pass through the garden gate
Traipsing on the evergreens
I stumbled upon by fate
A wicked flower that resembles your skin
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 9:29 AM UTC
My weary eyes widened when
Your silver tongue slits my pale neck
Thus, I sank my fangs below your ear to
suffice my blood drunk.
As the edge of your dagger trod back and forth on my skinny wrist.
Dead as the night.
Where the moon sheds her aging skin as I peel my own.
We were occupied with such ardor
like a peculiar kind of intimacy.
~
I turned away after that,
Left you with the aftermath
I faced the light to cast a shadow
where you chose to dwell and
might as well make perforations on my back.
She said she loves me
but all I ever felt was antipathy
~
If I can just sew my lips to my inner most thoughts to
obviate myself from forming a lie
But, I can’t.
You said ‘sing to me sweet’, so I sugarcoated every
word that came out from my fraudulent mouth
I was just in it for the thrill.
~
The stars I put up in your sky were fake
Life is nothing but a masquerade and
you didn't fell for a prince charming.
Because the rainbow I showed you was just the smoke from my
Sobranie.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 6:47 AM UTC
I heard the flutter of a thousand feathers above me,
black birds convened at tomorrow’s end
I saw a ****** of crows encircling the sky
rushing downward into a vortex
Clattering straight for my skull
aiming for divvy morsels that fell off my body.
There’s not much left of me,
their blunt bills perforated most of my skin
Unveiling the skeleton inside this closet,
Unraveling the secrets this mouth can’t
In hoping to shut my heavy eyes to rest
and dig me a bed six feet under
so I can tumble to eternal slumber.
The tears running down my eyes diluted
the colors of my blood stained hands
as I wipe them away
Raindrops, tears, and blood
doesn’t differ much from each other
For they’re all just liquid substances that symbolizes pain.
I sight these black birds
sitting by the branches of a dead oak tree,
their claws clenched against the aged wood
Bathing in the ashes that fell like snow.
But I’m just lying perfectly still,
my back flat on solid ground
Facing the bleak sun
remaining numb and frozen
This is how I picture death
like sketching a mausoleum.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 9:39 AM UTC
Your skin was veneered in glitter and glass
That will surely shatter soon
And scatter and spangle across the evergreens
So you can’t lead me down to your garden path
Strip yourself from all your artifice
What are you?
I can see your misleading eyes
Across the dance floor
When this masquerade ball is over
Who will you be?
A fine damsel in distress
Maybe another skeleton in my closet
Or a succubus in my empty bed;
And no longer the monster underneath.
I took the risk and
Kissed your vinaceous lips
And so I got drunk
We entwined like vines on a trellis
The way we intersected unintentionally
But not impossibly
We’re like dangling strings of a violin
The way our melody remained unsung
Until now.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC