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ryn Aug 2021
Time rides
but on wings of butterflies.
Hardly noticeable
as they flit by…

From flower to flower.
Underscoring the fragrant,
outlining the beautiful.

Yarrows to daylilies.
Lavender to pansies.
Goldenrods to marigolds.


Supposedly impartial yet,
seemingly bestowing
just a little more
upon those most pleasing.

And the unchosen only watch
with bitter, hungry eyes
that go unnoticed, unslaked
and
          unvisited.
ryn Aug 2021
A parched well
with little use.
A prison.
He’d fallen.

Clamber he must,
up a ladder
that had seen better days.

Each rung whispered
promises of salvation
and absolution.
If only they didn’t concede
to the weight that betrayed
his every step.

•••

He laid broken
and splintered.
Much like the ladder,
whose top rungs mocked
with the same song

but it’s too far,
too faint to hear.


.
“Just one second, and I was left with nothing
Her fragrance still pulsating through damp air
That day came to an end
And she had lost in me her credence”
Demon of the Fall - Opeth
ryn Aug 2021
All hung up
and dried.
But no one knows,
and no one sees…

Me flying.

But only at half-mast.

.
ryn Aug 2021
.
     Our stance strong,
     our conviction -
     unwavering,
     brandishing knives
     with blunt tips.

                           But our hearts fail
                           to acknowledge
                           the shallow
                           and feeble breaths
                           that hide behind
                           cracked ribs.
ryn Aug 2021
We are the authors
of our own stories.

But we have yet
to figure out
how it’d all end.
ryn Jul 2021
Like blood slowly
ballooning into a tiny orb
from a pin *****.

It simply swelled
and bulged…

As it clung precariously
upon the tip of my nib.

A slight tremble,
almost a hesitation -
seemingly afraid to take
the leap of faith.
Afraid to take the plunge,
only to wilfully break
the expanse of blank parchment.
Afraid to taint the whiteness
with the ruthlessness
of indelible black.
ryn Jul 2021
We played with words
and peddled euphemisms,
as we hid behind veils.

We had reality
twisted and bent.
We chided and spat
into the winds
of coercing gales.
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