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Thera Lance Aug 1
When you run your fingers through his hair,
They burn as hot as the orange strands
That streak through the red of his locks
Which are too warm these fall nights.

You’re not sure when you realized that
He wasn’t like you,
Human and soft enough to be pricked by the knife’s edge
That he playfully dragged across his tongue
While looking at you with eyes that refracted the amber light of his soul.

He’s not sure when he realized that he’d stay,
Far past the summer when you met
On the sandy banks of the lake that swallowed light
Until it was the same deep blue of your eyes,
Binding him to your side long after the sun set
And the rays upon the bed’s sheets had faded
Into a warm glow in the dark.

When he runs his hands over your toes,
Cooled by the coming winter
That wraps you up in wool sweaters
And leaves you huffing as he walks by in only jeans,
He realizes that he dare not leave
You to grow cold these coming nights.
A few years ago, I did not think I would be writing paranormal/fantasy romance poems.
James Study Jul 29
I saw the shadow on the wall
nobody here at all
I heard the music in the air
nobody anywhere
I heard my name spoke out so clear
nobody around here
I heard the steps upon the floor
nobody here no more
Somebody trying to get ahold of me
I truly do
I do believe
somebody trying to get ahold of me
ThoughT Apr 22
I dated a ghost once, and after ghosting me for months she wound up getting really possessive.  I could see right through her and felt her intentions were oppressive.  Definitely a freak in the sheet and would promptly wake me from my sleep in the morning at three.  Sometimes raging she would throw so many things and blame it on me.  Not often responsive, she'd let me know where she was through a series of banging. Felt like I'd be talking to myself and going all types of crazy.  She once entered my dream and tried getting violent with me because I was with another lady.  That's when I knew it was time for saging.  Had to have an ancestor guide my pen In the breakup letter because my hands were shaky.   In this moment,finally, from that relationship I'm free.  Next time, maybe a dating site, and not the ******* Ouija.
madeline Jan 8
i overshadow everyone around me.
i wail and moan and drag my chains of self pity.
people try to communicate
"are you ok?" they ask.
i try to move the planchette to no,
to tell them that i am far from ok
but it effortlessly slides to yes.
i'm sick of this haunting,
this spectral sadness
but i guess you can't wish to be dead when you already are.
i've always been obsessed with the paranormal, and one day when deep in my depressive thoughts i sort of started comparing myself to a ghost, and then this happened. Feel free to leave constructive criticism!!!
Sarah Doughty Oct 2018
The mural, it was of myself
Amongst lycanthropic flowers
I was in the Balkins
And 6am was the hour

I saw this in a psych ward
The strangest thing it was
To see a portrait of myself
It seemed as if I was in Hell
Strange experience I had at a psych ward in Texas. Feel free to ask me more about it.
Madeline Harper Aug 2018
A ******* affair is common here
In a cemetery of sorts
We share a commonality of fear
Under siege of this final court

Where ash is finer than honey
And blood is a finer wine
And blood moons are just as sunny;
For where you die, there you dine

If pumpkins are a fable
And black cats are a muse,
Then we remain unstable
With none left to abuse

As darkness is a scary friend
I have never known a kinder foe
This void preaches a bitter end
And will follow wherever you go

There is a madness along this bend
And when it’s half passed dark
If you hear our drums: prepare for the end
Prepare for your embark.
I know it’s august but gosh **** it I want Halloween
Obey the everlasting voices.
Those that beg you do,
They'll be here until you die,
The only ones that will never leave you,
Not even at night,
Like a soul mate - they'll be here when you cry.

Obey them young child,
You must learn to sacrifice your lust,
There's light and then there's darkness,
Although, here there's only you,
You wonder where you are.

Keep walking in the shadows,
Be careful you don't stumble and trip
In the land of murkiness.
They await around corners,
Unrevealed; out of sight for most,
But never out of your mind.

What's wrong with her?
She must be hysterical; psychotic; certifiable.
No one sees things the way she does,
No one sees them at all:
The shadows in the corners of the room,
The nails - or was that claws - against the windows.

They don't feel
The panic
Like she does.

They'll creep into your room at night,
You scream, trying to tell them goodbye,
Except they never leave,
You beg please
And they lock you in the cellar.

Months go by and it takes,
Half a year to notice,
You haven't been seen outside.
It takes them months for you to find yourself screaming at the walls,
****** clothes on the floor,
Because you want to get rid of yourself,
Before they **** you.
This is different from my usual type of themes, I hope it doesn't **** too badly.
storm siren Apr 2018
"They never made a proper term to describe us."

She began.

The candle light
In the warm
May breeze

She swirled the liquid in her cup,
She said it was wine.
It looked more like gold.

"But, still, they tried..."

Her lips curved around the word,
It made sense her name was



But, when she placed her glass down, she stared up at the moon, her amber eyes glistening, almost bright yellow.


I don't remember the rest of the night,
But I know it was filled with kindness I've never known,
And it smelled
Like jasmine
And gardenias.
Despair Apr 2018
Devour My Memories, I Utter My Thanks

The faintest heartbeat, beating incessently within the womb of the accursed
A plague, a toxin, a parasite adorned in rozen love...
How despair will foster you as its own soon.
Despair that dusts blue skies to crimson.
Painting the earth with the despair you, so courteously, gifted...

A life she was meant to live, and a life she was almost denied.
Who was it that almost cried when she died?
Not the mother,
nor the father.
Not the god that wouldn't bother...

But the one whom those pointed and screamed

Adorn thee with strength, needed to breathe
Adorn thee with love, needed to grieve
As an infant, our adoring spirits you teethed...
Our child, concieved with love...

Father adorned your body in gallant, red petals...
Sprouting purple fruit, that blossomed upon your beautiful body.
Mother, saw nothing, for the sugar in her eyes...
Nullified her to the girl that slowly died.

Your brother we had, whom we ensured held your hand...
Overcome with corruption, he mangled those porcelain bones,
It needed to be planned.
to dust they turned, hollowing them from the inside
until the walking world grew barren, and your canvas lost its color.

They covered their eyes to the “us” that they saw...
And you, who wanted to live, wished to know why their spirits died.
You asked of us, begged as a young soul, to not be blind
So HE painted your canvas with color.
Distorted blacks, containing every hue that even a treasure of a species only saw...
You saw, for one simple reason,

We loved you.
We showed you that the conceptual distortion you felt...
That solidified pain...

It, too could become a comfort. And I became your comfort,

the only comfort that you need.
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