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Ian Moonsy Sep 2016
She was never yours to keep, yet
You think you want to love someone,
The moment you're feeling down,
The moment you see her smile and weep;

Dress her in red, I'd tell you,
Red like her lips, red as her mouth.
Your heart beats ever faster,
That's something that you could never ever doubt.

There are sayings you couldn't veer away from
Like a rudder gone pointless because of a storm.
The waves will trash, blunt and torment you,
Until your resolve has been steel formed.

Two strokes to midnight, gone she has been.
Too far from your reach, crossing no lines in between
Her head and your heart;
This was a pointless fight but a deadly thing.

Alcohol shouldn't have drowned you in a stupor,
Nor would the fumes of gas sticks dangling on the lip.
It should have been her bright eyes, her perfume
Or the little things she had let you keep.

She should have been there,
In your worst and in your best.
She could have still been the same one
Who carried the demons you ripped from your chest.

Your dark eyes cloud even more over,
Even if your face is calm and serene.
Then you simply watched her drift away
As you let yourself fade from the scene.

You are in love, I know it plain as day.
But who are you to change someone's mind,
If you were never even a part of it,
If she never even let you have a say?

I'll tell you again, dress her in red,
In the color your heart rages in,
The color of danger you revel and been
The color that makes you want to sin.

Dress her in red,
Like blood smeared on a white wall.
It would be the same color you'd take
If you stepped off and lead yourself to a fall.

Innocence will soon turn into dust -
Because in this game, we all have to pass.
Fail and lose, or win and take,
We never could be sure if it would last.

These last two questions
Now baffles me to the core.
If you read this, then I'm sorry,
I couldn't have said it before.

But what am I to you,
If I seem to be the one you turn to
When I'm not her,
When I could never be her.

Dress her in red, a color you'd always remember;
Something, everything that gives you a zest.
But please don't always let me pick up your ****** pieces
And take them back to the dark recesses of your chest.

Your gaze holds me back in fervor,
And I'll still want you to be okay.
Don't you dare dress me in red,
If she's the one you want to stay.
Ian Moonsy Jul 2016
To stop or not to,
When you have a connection,
It always remain.
Ian Moonsy Jul 2016
Dark, grey, quietly
Opened eyes to no one,
Everyday alone.
Ian Moonsy Jul 2016
There's only a way
to live and to love as much;
Unconditional.
Ian Moonsy Jul 2016
I am not my mistakes,
no matter how much they showed about me,
about my thoughts,
about my words,
about my actions,
goals.
I am labeled,
by them,
by you.
And I want to strive to be better.
Yet you do not give me a chance.
Not one at all.
If there will be one more good thing to do,
I will ignore you,
and go on my own way.
It's my life after all,
so you tell me everyday.
I will do this.
I will live my life the way I want it to,
with no boundaries,
and no apologies
about what I love.
Or who I love.
I will.
If there will be any chance that you will read this one day, then you will know that my life was never yours to shape. I will live it however I want it to, and I will not let you put me down to what you only think I will be. I will surpass you, and be more than you ever thought me to be.
Ian Moonsy Jul 2015
You knew I had fallen from grace.
You knew I had given up from the chase.
And yet you picked me up and held me,
and wiped the tears away from my face.

I told you I was a bad idea,
I told you I was born that way.
I practically did everything,
to make you go away.

"No," you said. "I'm staying here,"
"With you", I remember still.
And you signed your name in blood,
with my feather you used as a quill.

Little by little, you took me outer space,
And I thought I've never seen such a beautiful place.
You took me to see two of a thousand sights,
and each step we took, we left a trace.

We waded in liquid gold,
bathed in starlight and treasures untold;
melted the ice that was achingly-cold,
watched the rain and the bow unfold.

We did a million things together,
no matter how tight the situation was, however,
we did things that were labeled as the 'Never',
And I did, truly, think it would last forever.

Otherwise, you were so good to me
I thought I would cry.
No one was really like that to me;
and you've taught me how to fly.

But, oh! This wings of mine,
they are black as the night,
treacherous to burn
even in the light.

Chaos resides in my chest,
there is Wrath and Fury, dueling forever on my crest.
There are Evils I could not have said;
and if I did, I was sure you would have fled.

What else could I say,
now that we are a ruined mess?
I did try to tell you
the first time we met.

Now, this is like Beauty and the Beast,
although you now know who the monstrous one is.
I told you that you couldn't love me;
How could you love a monster, to ask the least?

There is a thing though, I must confess,
I am the one who brought you this mess,
Devils and Demons brought me wayward,
from the road we have together blessed.

But still, you are so unfair, my darling,
stealing my heart and ripping it in two.
I did try to give it back to you, mended and looking new,
now pieces of it are fluttering in the wind as it blew.

I fell back to the void as you ascended Heaven;
that was a large space between us, a lifetime so far.
There were times I tried to reach you,
but what I just saw was a large unblinking star.

Then the Demons asked and told me,
"How did you love that being so pure?"
"You knew she was poison
and you went without a cure."

The Gods shielded you true,
but then I tasted your tears in the rain.
You thought I didn't know,
but I guessed I was giving you more pain.

I retreated, shamed and isolated myself.
Now, coming back, I realized I don't need you.
The darkness has welcomed me back;
you're free to do whatever you choose.

Let me remind you once more, my love,
You knew what I was, and capable of.
Storms and tempests you could never solve,
always breaking things I dearly hold.

This may be the last time,
that I am ever honest to the core.
Darling, I loved, love and will love you,
but you better love me no more.
Ian Moonsy Jul 2015
Monsieur, Madame, buy a memory?
Of someone blue and cold,
whose heart beats on flame,
and dances on papers old?

Or someone who once smiled,
as they danced on golden leaf,
covered in silver linings,
not knowing it will be brief?

Or you'd want something worthwhile?
A silver pendant or a silver blade,
both too beautiful -
enough not to behave?

See here, if none suits,
maybe you'd want the one with a somber black suit?
Standing near a slab of stone,
as he bit into the unholy truth?

Or a dance, one summer's eve,
Yellow lace, blue lace, green and red,
Chatter and sweet nothings said, or
Satins soft enough for your bed?

Pure, ****** white,
or glass slippers and ballgowns,
galas and masquerades,
entranced by your delight?

Or so I've learned what you'd all like,
easy, soft, vulnerable,
one with the sweetest core,
One that never asked for more?

How about this other one,
so full of tempests, untamed and wild,
bred in the worst of nightmares
and broken dreams of a child?

Lovely Madame, gallant Monsieur,
oh, but let me remind you this,
all is not blissful and happy,
or innocent and sweet.

I've had the memories who swam in too deep,
who drowned in their sleep,
who slipped on the ***** too steep -
and all they ever done was weep.

I've got the memories who were shattered like glass,
bright beating hearts who were never meant to last,
residing in Chaos for the pain to pass,
un-mendable, no matter how many spells were cast.

I've acquired
memories too roughly hewn,
too badly bent,
too badly burnt.

I've picked up memories long lost and forgotten,
thrown out and fallen,
put aside as soon as begotten,
cast down and trodden.

But there are... I think,
though I hope not all are taken,
the ones treasured and loved,
the ones held gently like a dove.

A smile of loyalty,
a breath as soft as a feather,
a sigh to signify they've gone so far,
but with much more good moments and a lot of blunder.

A memory of a light,
bright in the darkness, pure and clean;
a helping hand,
who proved not all was Sin.

Mine? Oh, no, dear madame, good monsieur,
I have neither owned a memory in my life,
nor held one so dear
as I said: they are bought;

By good deeds,
shared with neither malice nor greed nor wrath nor fury,
although we all have had to bleed,
just for equality and love; hand-in-hand, freed.

You'll see, you'll see!
It's not really bad or will be,
if you bought a memory from me,
the girl who sold Memories.
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