Her eyes were open wounds and as she sat there she was forced to consume,
to consume the images of her bleeding heart slowly yet furiously being ripped apart.
She couldn’t look away nor escape,
for the hands participating in this torture
were unique in their ability
to be the very ones to restore her.
He was both her ruination and her salvation, a fate that she has taken without hesitation.
She is at the point of no return and she’d willingly follow him straight to hell
even if it meant that she’d burn.
Apr 28, 2024
Apr 28, 2024 at 2:31 AM UTC
Clutching to your memory
has turned my heart into a ghost town
Vacant and empty
What a shame for a place
that used to be abundant and plenty
For the land is barren
The fruits of my labor
Withered and gone
For the streams have dried up
And my affection withdrawn
It is not your fault and actually anything but
You’re blameless for everything
Other than the crime of stealing the best pieces of my heart, leaving me with only
the most defective parts
But then comes a day
A day I stop searching for it all
A day I stop comparing
I then make my bed
Comfortable
Wrapped in the blankets of absence, loss and…
By the miraculous work of God
I then awoke to a bed stripped bare
And he was firmly standing there
The one man daring enough to make a home in such a lifeless place has now bloomed fields of flowers in his wake.
Apr 18, 2024
Apr 18, 2024 at 6:21 PM UTC
If silence was music
She’d be the sound of a melancholic rain
pattering rhythmically on a widow pane
If silence was music
She’d be the sound of the in sync heartbeat
of two lovers embracing each other
tightly under the covers
As her lonely symphony
reverberates through me
I contemplate and reflect
in the pleasure and peacefulness
of my own company
Consumed in the comforting tune
I then come to the conclusion that
there is no feeling which I am truly immune
And what a wonderful revelation that truly is
Thank you silence, for you and I
have become such great friends…
Mar 30, 2024
Mar 30, 2024 at 6:00 PM UTC
“Are you drunk?”
No, I just feel everything too deeply
Then sometimes not at all
And never discreetly
I am tortured
And
Confused
My own agony is my muse
I view this life through a melancholic lens
And though the world may love to
Numb & Pretend
I’ll be
******
Before I follow such a trend
So please darling
Do not be one to misinterpret
Nor allow this to be a deterrent
I am not drunk
I am simply just
A Poet
Feb 20, 2024
Feb 20, 2024 at 12:33 AM UTC
Find what you love and let it **** you
I’d guess that’s the best way to go
Though we will never know
Love spares none
One would honestly have better chances
Staring into the barrel of a loaded gun
Feb 3, 2024
Feb 3, 2024 at 1:50 PM UTC
I lie awake at night
Recalling the faces of beautiful strangers
Creating scenarios and wondering
how many opportunities I’ve missed
Or
What would happen if fear was cast aside
and our hearts were free to persist
Could we have been lovers?
Or could they have been the thing
from which I never recover?
Was it a missed opportunity?
Or was I saved from
the possible and inevitable cruelties
of unknown yet enticing beauty
Jan 27, 2024
Jan 27, 2024 at 6:17 PM UTC
The pain of this loss is unrelenting
The agony is never ending
My fate forever sealed
How could I ever think I’d heal
When your laugh still echos
And your presence still feels real
Jan 25, 2024
Jan 25, 2024 at 2:15 AM UTC
My heart is a sword in stone
The walls surrounding it are impenetrable
Some would say more difficult to break than bone
Only the rightful will be able to draw my affection
No this is not pretension but only the most selective, honest and true placement of intention
But could that be my affliction
Being so guarded that I’m also blinded to the pure curiosity and interest of another
It makes me wonder
am I the reason I suffer
Eh, could be an option
I don’t think it’s wrong to lead with caution
In other words my heart is not up for auction
As It is just the most
important decision
I must move with only sincere fragility
Which takes much resiliency
For it is the only path
to true intimacy
Only the most patient and worthy
Will be bestowed such a trophy
A gift of the most rare
to be able to show one’s self so bare
Jan 3, 2024
Jan 3, 2024 at 10:26 PM UTC
All of it is my fault
All of it is my doing
If I wasn’t constantly set in the thought that
I’m not worthy
If I wasn’t constantly in a state of fearing
You’d be with me
You’d be mine
Yet instead it’s half past nine
And I’m no longer blind
But I’ve run out of time
Dec 26, 2023
Dec 26, 2023 at 4:04 PM UTC
The memory of that feeling
is nothing but a phantom
Haunted and eerie
Elusive and weary
Always
Looming and creeping
Always
Leaving me weeping
Dec 22, 2023
Dec 22, 2023 at 4:03 PM UTC