Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Dec 2024 izzn
Vlad Tudor
Your wish is to love me
And mine's to stop.
Cause I've been longing
And it didn't cease one drop.

Build unreal feelings
While I bury my true ones.
And we both look somewhere else
But then we realise:

The night’s majestic,
The stars above shine,
They're pale to the memory
Which flicker much too high.

God, we both exist on Mars,
The war of deaf, the clash of souls.
It's an enticing paradise
Which only the two of us can walk

It's limbo, Dante called it
You run but you don't move.
And again we're chatting
The real meaning is mute.
  Dec 2024 izzn
Emma
The footsteps fall — then fade away —
As silence holds — the breath at bay —
Two hands — in quiet longing — meet,
A tremble — soft — and hearts entreat.

A fever burns — and must be still,
The world outside — they wish to **** —
The rain — it whispers — soft refrain,
Of stories lost — of fear and pain.

The elders' words — like serpents' hiss,
A promise sweet — a bitter kiss —
"Trust me, dear one — for I will save,
Your love — your life — from cruelest grave."

She calms the storm within her mind,
With *****'s balm — a solace blind —
His face is strange — his heart a lie —
But still — she dreams — where no one dies.

The flowers twine — within her hair,
She plays with children unaware —
Of all the rules — the bitter game,
Where whispers wear a nameless shame.

The demons smile — they will not harm,
They cleanse with beads — with prayer's calm charm —
"Forget your name, and curse the night,
The dawn will lift you into light."

But Death — a shadow — cold and near,
Sweeps in — and leaves no room for fear —
The dust — the warmth — no more to chase,
A fleeting dream — an empty place.
  Dec 2024 izzn
Carlo C Gomez
It blew in off the sea

It went out on a limb

And broke the olive branch

Do you hear the wind through the hair of revolution

--black raven hair--

Bone straight and frayed

The split ends of society forging separate paths

Progression at their tips, regression in their roots

It makes a sound akin to the back of an old haunted house settling

It wandered here in due season

It's about to be cut short

It's about to be swept away
Next page