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ryn Aug 2021
A palette blessed
with every possible shade
and hue there is…

But somehow,
the colours are all wrong
the moment
they meet the canvas.
ryn Aug 2021
Looking for
the words
and meaning…

To fill the void,

that feels like
lost breath.
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.
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