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fray narte May 19
and my fingers will trace these scars on your chest — they're no fault lines but darling, i can fall and fall and fold myself into wildflowers on which sunlight unfurls. but this world, it's a battlefield and red roses bloom not from the soil but from the skin and every death feels like the first.

every kiss feels like the last.

and darling, tomorrow, we have all the time to be broken. we have all the time to grow up. but tonight, let me hold you close; my hands are weary of writing elegies. tonight, let me drown in your seastorm eyes; i am tired of looking for temporary ports and for all the wrong shades of blue. tonight, i will read you poems about a girl named helen, who loved despite the war. tonight, the world can crumble down and i can stay right here, safe and sound in the comfort of your sighs, like a girl resting against bruised lilacs. i can stay right here watching you sleep until the earliest hours, forever asking myself how can someone so ******, so broken by this world possess this much softness.

this much gentleness.

this much peace.

regardless, rest your weary bones, my love. morning still is far away.
Tyler Apr 2018
You gasp in shock
In fear
The end is here
You caused this
Your eyes
Burning with guilt
Hands
Shaking with regret
Jaw
Locked with desperation
I had to
You whisper
But there is no one to hear your cries
Just the inky black sky
Ensnaring you in darkness
This is your doing
Little death boy

A serpent
Winding up your arm
Wrapping round your throat
It hisses in your ear
Of fear
And of misery
You’re frozen in place
It’s venom filling your mind
Rendering you useless
Weak
Your lips tremble
Silver eyes hidden
Behind milky hair
why are you hiding?
Little death boy

Is this who I have to be?
Is this all that there is for me?
Just destruction
Just despair
You
Are the bringer
Death paints itself into
Your very being
Into your soul
The serpent slithers it’s way
Into your heart
It’s hold
All powerful
The fear of failure
Taints the back of your throat
Rising like bile
You’re scared of death
You’re scared of survival
There is no place for you
Little death boy

Hold your head high
Do not let them know
You’re fragile
You’re terrified
You’re not the sharp
Cutting man
They believe you to be
You’re nothing
Just a wisp of smoke
Easily ripped apart
By a gentle breeze
The snake winds tighter
There’s no escape for you
No redemption
No saviour
You shall rot
And this,
This is your destiny
Living your whole life
Weary and pale
Waiting for the world
To chew you up
And spit you out
Battered and broken
Blank and listless
Dark and lonesome
This is who you
Were born to be
Bringer of death
Whether you even wanted to be
Does not matter
Never the hero
Never the kind
Never the feeling
Little death boy

— The End —