A rainstorm into an open field
Soaking my pigments with
Colors nonexistent;
You’re a solar storm,
Irradiating, enriching me
In serenity transcendent.
Otherworldly on my tongue;
You are a forgotten language
Awaiting translation,
Patience and understanding.
Someone to take the time
To comprehend your words
Unspoken and unread.
Trust me to hold you,
To listen and read
With consideration and delicacy.
Know that I’m here for you to
Whisper your unknowns in my ear,
And compose your silent correspondence
On my skin with your lips
Without fear.

A child begins reading a story
Both have never been betrayed
An eternal bond was made
Yet betrayals are left in their wake
A sacrifice decided, all for its sake
The story continues moving forth
Gambling it's own questionable worth
Seeking a burning flame, a friend
One who will bring the abrupt end
To this garrulous, suffering cage
Even though the Ink rewrites the page
Corrupted by ideas of ****** glory

They called my pen tearful.
Like a melancholy dream.

but what they don't know is that


they weren't tears.





They were wounds.










I just drew them in ink.