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The wise woman said
I should take a moment
to look at the birds
singing around me
and stay in that moment.

Yet my soul wanted to fly.

The wise woman said
I should take a break
and look at the flowers
growing colourful
and focus on that moment.

Yet my soul wanted to bloom.

The wise woman said
I should be more aware
of the small things and moments
that live all around me
and focus on the little joys.

Yet my soul wanted to express its immensity.

The wise woman said
I should be smaller,
think in moments,
and find sufficient
all the little things
she's willing to let fall.

Yet my soul hungers for a place at the table.
I look across the street
at the woman walking by.

Her slender form
in bright reds dressed,
a beating crimson heart
against the exsanguinated grey
of dry asphalt.

I look across the street
and dare not move.

Because my mother
raised me undeserving
of the time of someone
whom bleeds life into
an exsanguinated day.

I look across the street
and nothing more.

As my father taught me
to live unremarkable
and let all songbids
fade away from memory...

I could not walk with her.

I lay here
on ashen asphalt
and wait for the red
to bleed out of sight.

I look across the street
and exsanguinate
any hope of lasting love.
add a little bit of salt to the exsanguination
Ander Stone May 21
if I was the wind
I would cover you
in summer's warm embrace
and give your lungs
the cleanest mountain air
to take into yourself.

if I was the dirt
beneath your feet
I would shelter you
from the storms
and the turbulent ways
life shakes you.
I would hold fast
and hold you close
to my core
safe from the prying eyes
of the cold midnight sky.

if I was the river
I would wash away
thine sorrows and pains
and give your lips
the cool touch of
flowing water.
I would engulf you
within my essence
and clothe your body
in ocean waves.

if I was the flame
I would warm your hearth
and fill your chambers
with the golden light
of my all-devouring love.
Ander Stone Apr 27
Starlight, you are my starlight,
when you shine I remember the world,
when you don't I forget myself.

Starlight of my dreams,
you light up my hopes and heart.

Starlight, you are the only light
that breaks through the darkness
when oblivion descends.

Starlight, you are all I need,
you make the world silvery.
Rörenüviél, e mi rörenüviél,
cuindo astaï mi huimë Ain'an,
cuindo ti nac lethe mìs.
Rörenüviél o mi äiswye,
illsear mi òchas é craidha.
Rörenüviél, e mi eulhà nüviél
so briseare trahés dorchal'an
cuindo lethene ànandri
Rörenüviél, e yn mi soin,
ti aireaia Ain'an elléinén.
Ander Stone Apr 12
give me pleasure
and I will give you pain.

share with me your water
and my cold hands
will rip away
at your tender thighs...
you are nothing but prey
in the harsh sands,
awaiting the slaughter.

share with me you breath
and my dead heart
will drain the heat
from your lovely bones.
watch me as I eat,
as your eyes dart
away from your death...

offer me your light, sweetheart,
let that which shines
be forgotten and broken
under my dripping claws.
fade away unspoken
letting go of all whines
until your suffering will restart.

promise me your soul,
as I drink up your brine,
yet never let the ache diminish
while I wait to dry your tears.
from start to finish
remember that you are mine,
as I devour you whole.

give me pleasure
and I will give you pain.
Ander Stone Apr 3
She would paint on a solemn face
to walk undisturbing into your world
of silver towers and streets of marble white,
yet in mine she could wear a clean sight.

She would file down her fangs
to whisper sweetness within your halls
of opulence and feigned delight,
yet in mine she'd bare them in starlight.

She would shut close her lilac eyes
to fool herself into seeing just the veneer
and not the rot beneath your noble court,
yet in mine she'd see the beauty in the dirt.

She would smother herself in lace
to blend in with the specters that lurk
within you entourage of pomp and nightmare,
yet in mine she could run naked without care.

She would drown her voice in vile liquor
to hold her soul from flying away in spite
from all that you've done in her name,
yet with me she would drink in the sky-flame.

She would be loved.
Her voice would soar.
No paint on her face.
No more.
Ander Stone Jan 4
I dream of you
when I close my eyes
and run through the golden fields
naked of all fear
and covered in the sunlight
of whom I hold most dear
taking in the yield
of passion's highs
as I rush to you.

I dream of you
when I open my eyes
and walk through the grey streets
veiled in mundane dismay
and covered in the soot
of machination gone astray
from the golden wheat
of desire's lies
as I stride to you.

I dream of you
endlessly.

And I dream
that you dream
of me
even fleetingly.
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