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 Feb 2015 BellonasBride
effaced
confusion has its hold on me
im confused if i even want to breathe
im confused if i even want him
im confused if ill ever make it out alive
cause if theres a god, he knows how hard i strive to stay alive.
The feather stirs,
She lives!
Howl, she does not,
If she did her breath would mist the stone.

My poor fool,
Hang'd.
Look on her,
Her lips,
Look on her lips.

How pathetic a mirror and a feather
and an old king seem now.
She was Christ-like,
Angelic,
Look on her lips.
The Fool,
Hang'd.

Do you see this?
No breath mists the stone,
No feather stirs,
Look on her,
Look there, look there.

You men have hearts of stone.
The heartbreaking ending of King Lear. Had to adapt it in some way since it was so beautiful!
 Feb 2015 BellonasBride
Thomas EG
You think you're so cool...
Bad boy, detached.
Nobody knows you
like you know yourself.
Leather jacket, crooked grin.
Only few deserve it.
Pocket-watch, single hoop earring.
Vintage, vintage...
How did you get so great?
Perhaps you stole the lost souls
of fragile beauties.
Perhaps you aren't so great after all.
Perhaps...
Or maybe
you just got so sick of hating yourself,
that you decided
to hate everyone else instead.
Maybe...
Or it's possible
that you lost your own soul
in the eyes of a fragile beauty...
And it's possible
that you're too far gone
to be saved.
Literally just wrote this on the spot. I don't know.
 Feb 2015 BellonasBride
Thomas EG
Things just don't fit together like they used to. I knew I had lost many of my pieces along the way, but I was painfully unaware of the full extent of my loss.
I slip and my cards fall in slow motion from my hands. I have lost my queen of hearts and I wonder if I will ever find her. My jigsaw gets smaller and I wonder what my fascination with puzzles was ever even about.
Youth misleads our clumsy fingers until adolescence can guide them more clearly, but how is adolescence to know the right direction? What is our destination anyway? Where are we going? What are we trying to find?
I reach under the couch and find a joker... Wait, he was joking? It shocks me like a jack in a box. How could I have been so naive? Of course his actions were insincere. They always are. They always will be.
I am looking for my queen of hearts. Her jigsaw pieces slot perfectly into mine. She is not so much of a queen as a princess, but she certainly possesses many a gullible heart. She possesses my gullible, frail heart.
I yearn for her crumpled, dog-eared kisses as she floats to the floor with the certain elegance of a queen. She snapped my heart, spit on the pieces and dealt me out a new hand. She does not understand... The only hand I wish to have is hers in mine.
She may have gone fishing for a challenge, but there will always be too many riddles for her to answer... I lost my queen of hearts. I am puzzled. I am too afraid to gamble my love away on any other card.
Once upon a time, she bet that I would give in, give up and fold her up. No, I will not fold until I have won... I will win her heart. I will win the game.
Feeling creative tonight... So many puns in this poem. Puns are great. Poems are great.
 Feb 2015 BellonasBride
Thomas EG
Uncertainty fills the air
And suddenly I'm not so sure.
Nostalgia begins to decay
But why?
Heavy, heavier...
I inhale and sigh with, what, exasperation?
Creation?
These are all mere distractions
To prevent myself from colliding
With myself,
With how I feel.
Emotional trauma, Part I -
Coming soon to a childhood near you!
We laugh it off
But it does not leave us.
Nothing can leave us
As easily as you walked away
That night.
I will not forget what I saw.
Engraved in my brain
Causing me to crumble
Tumble, tumble...
**Crash.
The road behind bares us a backdrop, too many nights find us fractured in our thoughts and the dreamers we once were are far from the two people who stand today.

We're broken, mere splinters of our shipwreck past, driftwood on a shore that drowns every time the ocean breathes.
The path is littered with slaughtered dreams that didn't bleed.

As time and tide wait for no man shall we find it a tragic scene?
simply erased with the sunsets demise?
No one gets away without a scar and mine speak a road map to chaos
and a found hello to you.

Mine own scars are fingertips
gouged into the sand and faded
but salted by tears of the ocean, inerasable by the tide.
A soul washed up upon the shore, a road map etched delicately into fine bones.
You can trace where I'd been before. All roads lead to your hello.

In broken lines and have uttered phrases and one too many empty night.
Backdrop of chaos does paint in the darkest colors you could ever imagine .

How does it gets so flawed by our own creations and vices my dear?
Does it still ring ever so true?

The bell rings true whispering distant voices
Empty nights are just bottles lined up as dead soldiers
We contemplated our own truths and fell victim to our own vices
The backdrop is black, no colour beneath skin.
Honestly? Where does our downfall begin?

Two ships underneath the nightscape past the spark once understood the flame and nothing more .
In empty alleys, like cats to prowl, we find our moments, and then bury our thoughts to lay for no others to see.

half written papers and half heard conversation the keys of the piano haunt the silence as myself shadows that still remain.

Nothing is but a thought and those are like dead flowers laid to waste a reflection of far better times

The night crawls to meet the day as it has so many times before.

The thought of the minds bottle lay empty upon the table.
A fond farewell is but a sugar coated goodbye.
And I seldom have minced my words to mask their sting.

The page forever bleeds.

Pages that lay scattered on a ***** floor
Bleeding ink into cracks
that will forever more
hide the spirit of our souls.
This co write was a true honor and something I feel was way over due .
Helen honestly deserves far more credit than myself on this for her lines in this truly are brilliant.

I give her all the credit in the world cause co writing with me I know is far from easy but this write was truly a pleasure and I look forward to this being the first of many writes with her .

Cheers Helen
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