Stuck to an icy
   history of thought,
   the habitual web caught
the Fly in its enticing
   display of verbs
      that match the pattern:
      language is the matter,
   betraying ourselves with words.
   A tongue to its Work tied
      might make the spider
      think twice before biting;
   those venomous lies
we tell our Selves about
   helplessness and somedays
   victimization and blame,
empowering our self-doubt;

                    ∴

Devouring our might as writers,
    we have nothing if not pride;
      We take flight to the deepest parts
        of the universe of literature.
Neither nihilistic nor cynical,
    our linguistic is made of visuals.
      Verily we write with studious care,
        veracity a common trait we share:
We are an orchestra,
    a symphony of synchronised melody.
      Epiphanies emphasize tragedies
        that consume us repeatedly --
We seek to
    link our verses
      and feel deep connections
        when engulfed by depression

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

Even though you made me feel low.
My persona & image radiants & glows.
Until after today,
Come what may.
You wish with you I would've stayed.
Are you certain?
No way!
I wasn't molded from clay.
I am straight not gay
What did you say?
Oh, well....okay!
Not the truth I can tell.
Nice try.
I threw a penny down a wishing well.
Are these cookies stale?
Did I get any mail?
My search for romance came to a halt.
You just enjoy misery, pain, & assault.
My broken heart was all your fault.
You say you fell from grace.
You tell me to carry my pepper spray mace.
Just in case anyone tries to get in my face.
Your lies can not be erased.
You never call to touch base.
Waiting for you was such a waste.
Do you like dress & my car?
I have good taste.
I wished for them on a star.
My Heart & Soul was bared.
But you never cared
Tempers flared.
Cheaters were paired.
Broken hearts snared.
I am credible & your incredible.
I don't consider meat edible.
A treasure to appraise & measure.
A rare pleeasure, don't say never.
Is forever something you could swallow?
A heart you should follow.
I get the picture, I am not part of the mixture.
I know the things that are & the things that were.
It is over of that I am sure.
For being single there is no cure.
Thoughts of mine are pure.
It was suppose to be just us two. So few know what I knew. Graves is where death rots. .

© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved,