An unwritten epistle,
                            now an epitaph...

Ask of the dagger I hurled at the beast across the room
Its wicked howl vibrating about my being
as it buried its fangs in its own dull heart
Ask of the white stained carcass wrapped in charcoal blood

I could talk of the glorious cliff and the reluctant child
seduced by the oblivion of the world below
But that’s hardly the tragedy I wish
to engrave on the stone made soley for my love's corpse

What of the silent repression of the inevitable sea;
its claws in your throat, its chains pulling you under
The only thing to come out: mere remnants of bubbles
embodying the muffled screams of the dead

I could talk of a caged bird
fantasising the sky being pure definition of freedom
What of its heartless darks that see and unsee the starving stars
What of the sadist winds separating
sons from mothers from daughters from fathers;
hearing and unhearing their pleas

Ask of the endless nights of my quiet talks with the moon
Its wicked words reeking with hope,
blooming and wilting around the night
Ask of the hollow flaw left untouched in the middle of the sky
Light extends her arms and creeps in,
she asks for help but we’re all asleep

I could talk of sleepless nights and lazy days—
vivid afternoons curling up way too fast in the dusk—
but that’s hardly a tragedy you’d like to hear
Ask of the dagger I hurled across the void
hoping to rip open another hole in the sky
so the moon would not be lonely when I finally went to sleep
but it never was lonely, no thanks to my blade

What of the silver blade
He shot for the sky but but fell in love with the moon
kissing open her jagged lips- and banishing away
moonlight bleeds out the scarred crescent
Ask for I'll tell you the stories composed with finest of runes

Like when the girl befriended the beast
not for its arousing shine that felt like velvet on the cobblestone dark
but the scars that she, so lovingly, drew on its body
matching every curve - every bruise - to her own
so painful yet hardly at all, so visible yet not in the least
It was the most beautiful tragedy I had ever seen

The sand shifts beneath your feet,
Your heart relaxes to a quiet beat,
The waters seem to breathe day and night,
Close your eyes take it in do not fight,
The wind satisfies your soul,
Just relax now you've played your role,
Touch the sand now scoop it up,
Hold it in your hands and form a cup,
Now let it seep through towards the sandy ground,
Your soul was lost but now its found,
The weather you desire will come your way,
Just stand closer to the bay,
Soon life will be eternal for you and me,
Look beyond the ocean and tell me what you see.
                          -open heart poetry

could be a typo
Could be a meanto

Hurling words at me
Words you could have kept
Let me get a broom
To clean up
All the mess
You thought you
Could hurt me
With each word
You wrote
You only hurt yourself
Cuz now your
Left behind
to pick up
After