In folded pieces of paper,
Resides illuminating hope like no other.
Hung like a tapestry atop one's cushion,
Swaying to the wind's symphony with resilient passion.
"Thanks for bringing me outside," the little girl said. The nurse smiled, pushing the wheel chair as they strolled around.
"Will I see you tomorrow, Miss?"
The woman nodded, "You'll see me everyday 'til you can finally leave this place. Sounds good, right?"
The girl glanced at the jar of tiny paper cranes she held. Everyday, she would give the nurse a paper crane as a token of gratitude. At times, they would hand it above her bed so she could see the pretty pieces of paper as she lay down. "Remember me," the she said with a smile. "I'll come back to visit you when I'm better!"
She handed the jar to the nurse.
It was the last the little girl gave her.
In a room sat two tired hearts,
Fragile and worn out by all the scars,
One was breaking,
One was dying.
"It's a broken heart."
Curious, she watched him silently try to revive it. "Do you love mending torn souls?" she asked slowly.
"No, only hers," he raised the heart of glass with care.
"She'll let him break her," she reminded.
He smiled, "I know. I don't mind doing this again."
I could've had you, my dear
Maybe in different circumstances, different times, or different lives
But never here
Neither in this time, nor this life.
"I sat here thinking about what went wrongㅡ what I had done wrong. I did everything to make you happy. I sacrificed. You just don't know it," he wiped the tears from his eyes. "And the thought of you drifting apart without me doing anything to push you away kills me"
I realized that I haven't posted in a while. Recently, I got interested in writing letters and sending mail. I found some really nice penpals on Instagram but I would really love to write some poems for someone and read theirs, as well! You know, something to look forward to. This is sort of an unusual place to look for a penpal but do send me a message or comment if ever you're interested!
I'm a nice kiddo
two tired hearts
lay together in silence with each one long gone,
dying as they waited for someone
who would fill the void within themㅡ who would restore their hollow parts.
"You can't fix me" she pointed out. "You're broken too"
Imagine giving life
to what consumes yours,
reviving the pain
that caused devastating wars.
what tears you to pieces,
remembering the broken
and lying kisses.
what completes youㅡ
what makes you whole
yet poisons you from the inside.
what makes you alive.
burn old memories, tear old letters,
forget people and, maybe, survive.
Bury it all.
Erase it all.
Leave what you treasure the most.
Destroy what holds your shattered soul together.
Can you break away
from what binds you to home?
Can you let go
of what you hold on to?
No, you can't.
Because it is in this pain
that you found home.
"Imagine" he began, "and do not forget that it is only a figment of your imagination"
Bonds of paper pressed and folded
Bringing with it such paper planes accurate
Dipped quills, ink splattered across the white ream
Lanterns lighting, defeaning silence of the whispers of the wind's realm.
Entrusting aflame candles, flewn for enlightenment,
Trembling with the breeze's whistling accompaniment,
White as newborn clouds, creased lines across it's edges,
Books pilled up with history and insights, torn pages.
Storms swirling ever so swiftly,
Drifting folding paper dancing to the wind gracefully,
Following the rhythm of the hurricane,
Remaining resilientㅡ free from stabbing pain.
Tint overflowing each ream precisely,
Tainted with dreams crafted so idly,
A little push, realising grip,
A wish fleeting away, once one to keep.