My darling dearest fled;
Are the cliffs forever cold?
There's so much inside your head.
Do you dream of days of old?
You left so much in your wake,
In your trip to the sea.
Remember to wish that it was fake,
And hope to forget me.
The ocean will treat you well,
As well as you treated the stars.
May you dance in the craters where you dwell
As you did when the moon was ours.
Do not mourn!
We are not dead.
We do not remember you with scorn!
I respect where you've made your bed,
And wish you love forever more.
Loosely inspired by Edgar Allen Poe's Annabel Lee
You heard a door slam!
You know the curtains tore.
You were scared, he was frightened, "It's a ghost!" She swore.
Yet you tucked your children in
(though they were scarred forevermore)
But don't worry,
It's just me, crab walking across your floor
A chest, ornate and dark,
With gold lettering for the brand,
Holds the things that have been said about us without our knowledge.
One day we opened it, and realized that we'd rather have it filled with sea monsters than see it empty ever again,
And that was the day we were born.
It is better to be talked about and to exist without fear than to slip through life quietly.
The sentence looks like someone who's sibling I used to be,
smells like sand and Pepto Bismol.
and is wet and warm and sticky.
As it sounds like a gun shot in an apartment in Virginia,
The sentence whispers to me a time of death.
I despise being the next of kin at a funeral filled with people I do not know
The old woman ran a leathery hand through her cropped hair.
"Yes, you may weep for the fields of green, as they were gorgeous yet thought to be boring."
She rocked back and forth and her wrinkled face contorted into a smile for the first time in the conversation.
"You may always cry for the tulip fields as they were devastatingly beautiful yet loathed."
And yet, as soon as her face had lit up like a thousand suns, it was once again devoid of expression.
"But, nonetheless, reserve your pity for those that loved he or she that burned out,
for every lover of Icarus knows that it is better to be hated than to go unnoticed."
I love mixing styles together in a way that makes me doubt my own skill
The sun dances on her hair,
The brown echoing the colour of both her eyes and her freckles
As she dances through the sunflowers that are taller than her.
The other girl almost starts wondering how long it can last.
But she doesn't because
She promised the other girl that she wouldn't.
She also promised she would not pay attention to the siren or how it is getting very hot,
and very bright,
They're out in the middle of a field for their last few minutes, trying to make happy last forever, which I find I try to do more often than I should.
Eric thought the other boy was beautiful, so he took pictures.
He took his smirk
He took the cliche sparkle from his eyes
He took everything
Until his beautiful boy was gone
And all he had were photos of nothing
I fear that after a while, pictures lose details