I've always loved the rain,
but the inconvenience of it
in this very moment
obscures my window.

I do not condone
your pitiful suggestions
for potential partners
that are so dull,
mundane.

If you remove a silver sterling blade
from a sheath of thick leather,
you either make an oath
or make a killing.

You said you would never forget me,
but I'll never forget that lie.

Let oxygen flow,
in and out,
as you release tension,
hatred,
discomfort,
and replace it all
with love.

The chagrin overrides
my attempt to no longer hurt;
the burning sensation in my chest
soars through my body
and has salty, burning tears
stream down my face
like waterfalls.

I'd rather be run through
by the bayonet of a musket,
my body buried in an unmarked grave
and my death holding no meaning,
than stand by your side
only to turn back.

I have acquired messy handwriting
over the years,
so difficult to read,
to comprehend.
Similar to a code,
but definitely not as interesting.
I envy the wispy lines of ink on parchment
that can only belong
to a calligrapher.

It's raining,
it's pouring,
no one is mourning.

It's raining,
it's pouring,
you're finally done dying.

I had never felt
the firm grip of a bow,
the wispy shot of an arrow.

One eye closed in a focused wink,
I targeted the blood-red target,
my fingers pulling the arrow
with unknown precision.

It shot the red eye
the first time,
and it was then I knew
that in my past life,
I was an archer.

You colour your lips
with the essence of blood.
You cover your eyelids
with the ashes of those who have fallen
at your feet.
You cover your skin with powder
that makes you as pale
as the people you've slaughtered.
You, you are so beautiful,
you could steal someone's soul.

I won't forget what we did together,
nothing scandalous,
but always breaking the rules
in good fun.
And even though I may never see you again,
I'll cherish those moments
forever.

The rippling whispers,
as the water flows downstream
jumping across stones.
The sound of the river,
it told me to swim.
It hypnotized me into
numb bliss.

you're far too sweet;
it makes me sick.

It's raining,
it's pouring,
this waiting is boring.

They're crying,
they're mourning,
And now I am dying.

The infectious laugh
of a young man
who brings cheer to all
without notice.

Boring!
How dull,
I need something exciting!
Stimulating!
Challenging!
But please,
have mercy,
nothing boring!

A cuss word,
to swear upon a name;
so sharp,
so bad,
so rebellious;
so thrilling
as it leaves
a ****** taste
in my mouth.

The sun may be bright,
but I've no use for it
for I am no plant,
I needn't photosynthesis.

The harsh bite of the Nordic winds,
how it harmonizes with the moon
to push white waves across the ocean,
it's a true wonder
how the wooden ships drift so raggedly
on sapphire waters.

take me to rome,
let's watch the sun set.

In a game of charades
I am the jack of all trades,
that is, unless,
I were to have my own name.

"Well, my friend, tell me. Am I human?"

"I must offer you my candor and admit that I truly don't know."

You and I,
we are seldom of like mind,
but only together
can we conquer this battle.

You came swooping down
like a blue-winged heron
almost as fast as you came.

I know loss,
and at first it's heartbreaking,
but once your grief has diminished,
you'll realize it was the best thing
for you.

A true poet,
has seen the flame of pain,
or perhaps, they have been burned,
to be capable of writing a poem
so short, yet so wise.

The river lies,
but it is kind.
It will carry you swiftly,
carefully,
peacefully,
before submerging you
into utter chaos.

The ticking of the clock,
rusty and antique,
as though it snaps it's tongue with
every passing second
and torments my everwaiting mind.

It lights up an empty room
effortlessly, casually,
yet I still feel the presence
of darkness, lurking.

It is a constant duel
to ask,
never demand,
the acceptance of our differences.

You don't break a sweat
unless you're running from your problems.
You do not clean
unless you sweep your guilt under the rug.
You do not bathe
unless you procrastinate.
You do not sleep
unless there is too much to bear.

I am the Gatekeeper
to the threshold accompanied by
the unfortunate souls
that were victims of another humans wrath.

To be a sinner
or a saint,
it's a picture
they paint.

They scare us
into submission,
it's not much
of our decision.

It doesn't matter though,
we're all the same,
we are all greedy
and seek riches and fame.

My perspective on the world,
it has become tainted
over the years.
The colours swapped places,
tricking my mind,
it seems psychosomatic.
I open my eyes,
scared of what I might see;
it's not too bad, I suppose.
My iris' are now
windows of stained glass
as I gaze upon the world.

you may have collected my tears
in a cork bottle
but my emotions,
however,
cannot be contained
in a jar
for I have far too many.

The sky was covered by a blanket of violet dusk,
the only illumination coming from the tall, eerie lampposts.
I strolled, slowly, aware of my surroundings.
My feet dragged satisfyingly
on the sidewalk.
It was time that I follow the moon,
she would lead me
to where I need to be.

My heart was shattered
before my very eyes,
each piece tainted
beyond repair.
Thus, I'll use a needle and thread
to sew my heart back together
making a mismatched masterpiece,
like a quilt.

Can I trust you?

No, nevermind,
what an absurd question,
wasn't it?

Of course not.

We're all human here,
right?

Then I obviously cannot!

Humans are greedy,
and always hide something
whether it's yours
or theirs.

if you dare speak ill
of my body and soul,
your opinion will forever remain
incorrect,
in my opinion.

you can look at poetry
with a logical eye,
but you would miss
the message
with lack of wisdom.