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Sylvia Belle Mar 2015
And before the year had ended, and a new one would begin
You had left my ribcage broken, and sagging lids and skin
Before the year had ended, you had professed you thought
You loved me with lights and your palms left my skin to rot
With each touch I melted, and basked in your great light
And then you walked without a word into the quiet of the night
Before the year had ended you built a tower, tall and strong
You used supports of love and trust so that the tower may be standing long
And then at last, after using your last brick,
You pluck each one standing, using your last trick
The tower came crashing from high into the stars,
Brick by brick, it landed, sticking in the tar
The tower sat in shambles, yet still basked in the light
It could not be rebuilt, with any amount of might
And before the year had ended and the tower had been laid
It sat in awful woe in the questioning of the raid
No matter the reason for the fall, what truly matters is this,
The tower was desperately searching for the unending light of bliss
Sylvia Belle Feb 2015
Love changes people
And Hate changes people
But, most importantly and immensely, Pain changes people
Pain rips your rib cage open as the last particle of happiness is whisked away in the wind
It holds your heart like a broken glass bottle, a crystallized art exhibit,
The tattered remains of the day you left, and crushes it, ever so gracefully
With finesse and skill and much practice
Pain can do things no other thing can
It is similar to death in the sense of a reaper,
Hovering over every move
Pain does not discriminate
It does not care if you are black or white
It does care that you are blind, or deaf, or like macaroni as a midnight snack
Pain does not care that you love him
The only thing that can cure this menace is Love
Yes, Pain changes people more than anything else,
But, Love is much stronger.
Sylvia Belle Feb 2015
Because the sun will never kiss your cheeks
His lips will never graze your neck
The warmth will never thaw your heart
Because the sun will never kiss your cheeks,
I feel it is my job

Because the wind will never whisper in your ear
Her hair never tickling your cheek bones
Sweet nothings being told between honey sweet breaths
Because the wind will never whisper in your ear,
I feel it is my job

Because the grass will never welcome you home
It will never greet you with bright flowers in its hair
Dirt far beneath covered by the lush bed
Because the grass will never welcome you home,
I feel it is my job

And when the day has come, when you will lie alone
With no one but the heavens, greeting you bitterly
Nothing to see, no song to hear,
I will be the song, I will sing to you until the dawn breaks
Just like I do through every night

But this song will differ in tune and in lyrics
For it will be the last song you hear
The velvet creeping from my lips
Will grab your hand so softly
It will guide you toward the heavens

And when the day has come, when you will lie alone
I will lie beside you
I feel it is my job
Sylvia Belle Feb 2015
Each flake that falls upon the ground
Carries a sort of air
It falls from heaven, and dances around
It lands upon my hair

Covered now,  in fairy dust
I must sing a new song
Not one of love or lust
But I want you to play along

When the snow has stop falling
I step back inside
I hear the trumpet calling
And know I must abide

I do as it commands
Like the voices in my head.
She knows I’ll understand
She knows I’m hanging by a thread

My body feels numb
But not from the cold
That feeling had never come.
This is a feeling I’d often hold

Each second on the clock seems to take longer
I know my time is coming
I hear it getting stronger,
The sound of distant drumming

The frail hand that keeps my time
Is coming to a close
For I start to hear the chime
An end to all my happiness, but also my sorrow and woes.

— The End —