Dear ribbons of waterflame,
                       gold, green and blue
                swathes itself around my palms,
                                                            beco­ming
            a ball of radiant waters that floats in
          cupped hands and at the thought of
      love, it buds and curls like a lily's
petal
       and
             the years of hushed times
                  eat at my very soul, nulling
                      deafening me to the music
                             of the mint-dark sky,
                                of the flame-thorn sun
                          of the bone-white stars
                 My feet are kissed by the
            star-studded shores, washing,
       relieving the
  fragments of my shattered
past
I keep the shell of my hope
  shielded
      in my *****, near the heart
        My eyes dancing zultanites
           With my gaze on the horizon
                   rise the clouds of trouble
                    How long will I plan to thrive
                  when I am but a shrinking violet
            cold, iced with scorn
          but
       I am the Mistress of Waterflame
    Daughter of the Mers
and
  Scion of the Dragon Line

     So blood will bend and billow
         like flowers
            So fits the one of the skies and sea
             An expert who delivers in
        the trade of
    death


But the hope in my ***** pulses
      As my bloodlust evulses


                As I dream of the warmth that will soothe my weary

Can you feel it nearing?
The cold spell has been cast.
The energy of life and death
spread its wings.
A silken gossamer web woven.
And dances around, the music
of the wind.
And glancing down, the tranquilty
of the stars.
It waits.
Winter bares its teeth to all.
white and slimy and ready to bite.
Winter coils its frosty tail,
as it coils and sways and lashes about.
Flowers are blanketed and
houses are quilted.
And as the warmth fleets,
it retreats to the fruits.
It is through them
that we stay warm and
aflame.
Bite the peach.
It's sweet and ****.
And tendriled flame
will flutter and
coat.

See me?
Truly see me?
Past my eyes that feign innocence
and past my smile that feign happiness?
Would you see me?
That I decaying in my body.
In my prime, my youth?
See how fear eats away at me.
See how depression has chained me.
See how my white mask falls and
and bare witness to the fact
That I was never okay.

It's difficult to ask someone about their pain,
For them to express what burdens them so
but sharing your own with someone else?
Even harder...

Love is a woven dichotomy

The sweetest of fruits and most merciless of storms

On the heart of each palm, pain-salted tears

we all have, share and hold

Under the and sun-kissed days

and moon-soul nights

We choose to maintain our stories

while fighting against the tyranny of life

and its harsh game of glass chess

For which none of us can truly escape

but play to soon become skilled against

Strife's master

So with scarred skin and wounded hearts,

We trudge through rings of Hell

for the mere test of Heaven on Earth