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Platinum capped peak-
the snow's sweet pheromones
linger on my nose-
you toy with my mind

You took me by surprise-
that first bump.
God. Help me.
I keep coming back.

I must form a sial,
for my curiosity of
your virtuosity
ails me.

My mind is on you island
while my body floats out to sea
You've opened up a
hole
new world.
I love you - but I don't.
I want you - but I can't.
Because of the remorse.

So I hate you - when I don't.
So I leave you - when I can't.
Because of the yearning.

Let it be done!
Finish what had begun!

-please don't-

I can't want this anymore.
Copyright (c) Sibastien
Black, Empty Space.
White light; so short, so sudden.
We all return to:
Black, Empty Space.

Picture after picture,
Face after face,
Rest upon the mantle, in
Black, Empty Space.

Their white light,
Lives on
Above the fire,
Through the Black, Empty Space.

The white light dims,
After each generation,
Until resting in
Black, Blank Space.
A poem about our short lives on this earth.

Copyright 2017 © Sibastien
Love was black,
and love was white.
I though I knew -
or was I told? -
the meaning.

Told.
Told, with a rigidness.
Told, with a consequence.
Because if it's not black,
and it's not white,
it's worthless.

But then that pure white,
darkened.
But then that pious black,
lightened.
Until it was the perfect
shade of gray.

And now I forget,
The deepness of that black
And the gleam of that white,
For gray is all I know.
Through the light of day,
I see over the mountains,
I see the rich colours around me,
I see the vibrancy,
I see the light of day itself.

Is it really that pure?

So instead I wait for night.

I can’t see past the mountains, but why look?
Empty colours surround me.
I don’t see the filter; the alleged purity.

Overwhelmed, the context assaults me.
Darkness lances into me.
I yell. I writhe -

in my bleeding innocence, await salvation. “Saviour!” He escapes me.

“The light of day will save.”

I see the purity ****** itself down in beams.
I see the warmth on my body.
I see the good people.
But still, I see no succour.

I decide not to see, but to look.

I look for the humanity in purity, only blemishes are forthcoming.

Humanity, you have failed me.
Copyright © Sibastien

Often, we see the world from a falsified, optimistic perspective opposed to her true colours, and when we do finally see them, they're quite scary.

— The End —