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673 · Nov 2019
the longest mourning
Ell Street Nov 2019
the sunrise wept,
kissing all four corners of her room.
desperately illustrious,
dragging out the emotions we conceal within.
taken aback by the sheer beauty,
the tears began to lull.
a sudden stillness ; peace,
washing away the grief of that night.

she traced my fingertips,
eyes like moon pools of water.
oh how precariously balanced were her tears,
upon her lashes they sat,
comfortably uncomfortable.

her warmth, her gaze, her breath.
the addictive enticement,
enhancing the tense seconds
ticking by on that old grandfather clock.
as we both sat,
reminiscently replaying.
292 · Nov 2019
Daisy Chains
Ell Street Nov 2019
why must you
consistently
persistently
hurt me?

or is it I
who lacks the ability
to protect myself
from your actions
and thoughts
and impulses?

it’s funny how
(I think anyway)
emotional pain is so unarguably different from physical pain
and yet
they both hurt all the same
or maybe more so, emotionally

you wreak your havoc on my clarity  
playing on my empathy
evoking barrels of sympathy
and yet
none for myself

I sugar coat your words
define your actions with excuses
write off your impulses as faults of my own
but who am I
to excuse you, yourself
so irrevocably at fault

thus
this is goodbye
a farewell to the desperation
and helplessness
and hello to beauty in sunrises
shared with someone who bares no excuses

no sweet covering of words
just independent simplicity
charmingly woven together
elation
made of daisy chains
194 · Nov 2019
White lies.
Ell Street Nov 2019
ignited by her touch,
the purest glow of excitement,
entwined round each other like chords and a melody.
souls afire with need for one another,
embraced.

bracing,
for the agonising reality,
that this is not forever.
infinite in memory, yet so temporarily set in time.
breathe, lock eyes,
white lies as you say you’ll never leave.
white lies as we interlink fingers.

and now we wait,
patience is a virtue,
or so they say.
125 · Nov 2019
Yet.
Ell Street Nov 2019
Illuminations of mystery cloud judgment,
The allure,
The irrational possibility of change.
It’s addictive taste; bitter and delicious,
Enticing the once clear mind,
Capitulating.

Crystal waters streaming with guilt,
A dishonour in the sunlight,
Corrupted ideas brood,
Anticipating,
For the clouds to come anew; timeless.
Translucent memories glimmer and fade,
Diminished.

Deafening tones of reticence,
Invigorate the cool minds,
Whispers of a time long passed; and yet,
So present on the faces of whom we love.
Beautiful tragedy,
Effortlessly continuous and clear,
Yet so difficult to liberate.
118 · Dec 2019
Stone.
Ell Street Dec 2019
rising anger.
that particular intonation that just tips you over,
weakening admittance to the cold disappointment,
that you were not enough.
so unbearable,
yet complacent in its stature,
the niceties removed,
politeness overthrown,
like ugly pebbles next to an oh-so-perfect skipping stone,
smooth and untouched,
undeniable.

maybe one day,
I will write in absence of emotional pain,
passively forgotten,
as easy as the first pebble,
the first pebble so offhandedly selected
for practice, and nothing but,
to hone in on technique and capability.

for now it is embraced,
opening doors and crystal window panes.
an outlet,
for the things soon to pass,
like the ripples on the water surface,
skipping thoughts and skimming time.
115 · Dec 2019
Shop Windows
Ell Street Dec 2019
the kind of passing thought,
as you stumble along,
that makes the toothpick hairs on the back of your neck prickle,
and makes your breath,
get caught on the train tracks scratched into your lungs,
by the runaway sobs,
and stifled cries.

a finale of sorts,
awkward in itself,
oddly concrete in its sound, and yet,
sending me back,
from places i have no wish to be sent back from ; transcendent memories,
flickering in glee.

like candlelit reflections,
in festive shop windows.

— The End —