He follows me anywhere I go.
Sometimes his smell reaches my nose and burns inside my chest
– I love a ghost –
The torture of seeing him but not being able to touch him is like knives all over my body.
I sleep with a ghost that never leaves me; He sing me to sleep in his arms;
He haunts my dreams;
– I love a ghost –
A person you no longer know becomes a ghost in your memories.
A poem from 2016
Thy vows are all broken
Although mine still remains the same; my feelings don’t need the motivation to live other than itself.
While words remain unspoken
I silently express my feelings as I give my body to you once more, like an offering to chaos.
Soul wrecking pain as the knife is twisted and pulled off of my heart.
All turns cold - angel singing - I see your face in the violet hour;
We’re dancing again in a dream.
Bleeding inwardly while a condemned infestation breaks my being;
A beheaded flower no longer needs water.
True love of mine, remember me when the wind blows stronger
I will remember you when hearing the sound of the leaves under my feet
And I will smile.
A poem I wrote last year
If we meet ourselves in the gardens of despair what shall we do or say?
In thy hands I laid my heart, in your embrace I gave my love, in your body I intertwined my own
Thy kiss so sweet like a drop of honey in the meadow of my soul.
Almost done with the waiting, almost kissing your lips once again
Reach in the depths of my being; Claim revenge upon my body and put an end to the thirst that grew in the time we have waited for this moment
Longing for the quickening of my blood, the quivering of my skin; our eyes meeting in whispering communion
For sweet is the kiss but sour is the aftertaste
The night whisper it's languid melody streaky by the screams muffled by the distance.
I’m panting while I walk through the putrescent streets adorned with decaying corpses
Feast of parasites and carrion birds
The tinkling of the stained glass announces the arrival of Death. It’s scythe touches the delicate glass of the churches, forming a funeral melody that freezes my bones and consumes my mind.
How many times I begged on my knees like a weakling for Death to take me along, how many times I killed to alleviate my sick thirst; waiting, wishing that the punishment of the God they speak of would fall on my cursed existence and remove from me the eternal non-life.
The hot taste of blood still pulse in my mouth
I’m reposting this poem called ”Repulse” but now in English by popular demand 😂 Hope you'll like it, and tell me in the comments what do you think about it! I'm so very sorry for any language issues, I'm a self-taught person in this, so be kind folks
A noite sussurra seu lânguido canto entremeado pelos gritos agora abafados pela distância.
Arquejo enquanto caminho pelas fétidas ruas decoradas com cadáveres em decomposição, festa de vermes e aves carniceiras;
O tintilar dos vitrais anuncia a chegada da morte. Sua foice esbarra no delicado vidro das igrejas formando uma melodia fúnebre que gela meus ossos e consome minha mente.
Quantas vezes implorei de joelhos como um fraco para que me levasse junto, quantas vezes matei para saciar minha sede doentia; esperando, desejando que o castigo do Deus de que falam recaísse sobre minha existência amaldiçoada e retirasse de mim a não-vida eterna.
O gosto quente do sangue ainda pulsa em minha boca
The wind calling my name
An whispering sensation grows inside my veins;
An beheaded flower no longer needs water...
I see your face in the violet hour.
“I’ll be right back” –He said with a voice I could barely hear–
Trembling with the fear he would never return, I felt pain in my chest.
He returned when the sun was setting with a smile in his face. The one I loved the most
“I’ll be right back” –He said and left me with a farewell kiss in my forehead–
I woke up already crying with an agonizing pain in my heart
A poem about a dream and a person from the depths of 2016