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I wrote your name
In the condensation
that we created when
We made love in my car.
It's faded now,
But I can still see the
Faint outline

It fills me with dread,
to think of washing it off
As if it will somehow
falsify us
fray narte Sep 11
Some days, the emptiness isn't even obvious. You're brushing your teeth or putting on your favorite denim jacket or adjusting your wristwatch and it's there, lurking and you don't mind at all. It almost feels normal. Right, even.

But there are days and nights — mostly nights, when it feels colossal, you can't ignore it. There are times when it stares back, it's impossible to pretend it's not there. There are times when it feels out of place and you just sort of wanna dig for what's dead inside, or claw through your ribcages, or crack your chest open — anything, just to get it out of you.
fray narte Sep 10
sometimes, she resembles artemis
taking midnight walks
in a sea of moon glint;
her laughter, pale and silvery
as if they are made
of the moonlight itself.
they say that ohio is for lovers
so tonight, she will leave languid kisses
on sadness' flesh and bones;
they are made of all the seas
and all the beds
she has ever drowned in.
but tonight,
she will walk with the moonglades
dancing on the waters of cincinnati,
hand in hand and coming undone,
as the moon rises
from the ghost towns in her mind.

she goes on — treading waters,
and somewhere in the background is her silhouette,
a flickering shadow of the candle fire,
slowly melting,
the darker half of the moon,
setting in the west,
drowning in the tides.
and somewhere in the background is her silhouette,
slowly crumbling
to a heap of mess.
and somewhere in the background is her silhouette,
pallid and gray —

sinking
and sinking
beneath the waves.
They say
Their morning glories have bloomed
With the rise of the sun

The look of a flower that will stay blossomed
The fullness of the flower
Looks to never
Lose that form

A continuation of sweet flavors
and validation
Now asleep
Only asleep
With the rest of the town

Now
With the moon lit
Mine must have
Fallen back asleep

But now there is nothing
No blooming
No whispers of kind comments
nor ear for reciprocation

The space now looking an awful lot
Like when the morning glory was just planted
Like the morning glory was never planted

Was there even a flower to begin with?
I simply don't believe so.

I'd promise to not anticipate it's bloom tomorrow
But I cannot make that promise
- Is it all in my head or is this truly the cycle of this disappointing plant
I try to live my life the best that I can without my true love being here hope my tears will eventually dry
truly missing
her
Two years on since she's
been gone that day the light went out my life a light that once burned so bight never to burn that way
again
The pain of loss cuts me to bone for she was my life and
I never thought the possilbily of having to live the rest
of my
life
without her and miss her so
and wish the tears the pain will be no more forever
I miss her my broken
heart will never
mend
Eliza Prasai Sep 6
The unavoidable void


A hole in the heart
An unavoidable void
You are always afraid of it
It is endless, you thrive to fill it
By luck sometimes and by your skill
The need to fill this void
Makes you so desperate
You forget that,
It's absence is your existence
And much more than thousand words
Speaks your loud silence.
fray narte Sep 4
it had taken bones,
reshuffled and pounded to pieces
fingertips,
scorched
from molding cast irons,
worn, from unsewing and re-sewing heartbeats
and wrists,
white from scarring,
for me not to break
at the slightest touch.
fray narte Sep 4
who's to say she was a girl trapped in her storms —
or a storm trapped in a girl?

nonetheless,
she had been waiting
for the calm to settle after the storm
only to see
it left nothing unscathed.
fray narte Sep 4
there is
the calm
before
and after
and
in-between that
is my mind,
caught
in a
n e v e r - e n d i n g
storm.
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