Sebastien

Sebastien Oct 3

No I ain’t always a tortured poet

with unfinished business, anxious sweat

burning down all regrets

as I casually stare into joyous sunsets.

No I ain’t always a tortured poet

who blossoms with nihilism

listening to these soulless tracks

still, hope lays on my already heavy back.

No I ain’t always a tortured poet

who dares to speak of love

as something beastly, an impediment

It is more than just romantic torments.

No I ain’t always a tortured poet

i don’t fret, i just rest

blind optimism for the weary

for happiness is within my destiny.

Sebastien Oct 3

Love's Grief

have you ever thought
once again
about the one that got away
the one you secretly wished, stayed?

have you ever thought
once again
of his velvet eyes, his petulant smile
melting in sublime kisses at sunrise.

i know you think of him
regaling in his attention
enamored by his blissful skin
within dangerous darkness, you glisten.

have you ever thought
of love’s grief, abandoned destiny?
melancholic tears drying on your now wrinkly face
a lover who’s tired out of life’s incessant race.

Sebastien Aug 18

bluest day

bluest day
when you are lost at bay
stubbornly grey clouds stay
a reminder of the tawdriest May
to grace my existence.

bluest day
as you dissolve like hot clay
love shooting at us with burning ray
yet we exist only in disarray
conditions of our forbearance.

bluest day
when you left me, unresolved
I attempted to touch the sky above
lightning strikes, my eyes aghast
my crystallized tears still remain vast.

Sebastien Aug 18

Criminal

she was strife with boredom
once again, veering towards martyrdom
“is it all it’s meant to be?” alarmed she said
fading into black, praying to the dead.

the past visited her dreams
she remembers everything, even the screams
his eyes craving pure vengeance
her pleadings sounding as sadness’ avalanche.

he was not a terrible man
a year of courtship turned him to a dutiful husband
the babies came and so did his rage
which lead to a crime for all the ages.

she was strife with boredom
she once again veered to martyrdom
blood, so much of it, she cleans it out
as angry tears flood under her morose brow.

— The End —