#epistle
The words engraved on white marble,
with lilies around,
feel almost meaningless.
They miss the lines of the epistle,
burnt
that carried a grief
with no sound left in it.
They miss the dead of night
surrounded by darkness,
alone,
and so afraid of life.
They miss the shaking hands
that tried to hold on
to what could not be held.
The quiet breaking
no one ever heard.
They miss the countless deaths
he died.
They miss the fear of failure
that wounded his life.
They miss the dream he carried as a child.
They miss the pieces of his soul
he buried, part by part,
while still breathing still alive.
They miss
the only part of him
that ever truly lived.
Beneath the earthen quilt,
within the slow rot of flesh and bone,
a dearth of fear and guilt
as if even remorse
had long withdrawn.
And still,
the words engraved on white marble,
with lilies around,
remain beautiful
yet almost meaningless
_______Violetta
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 1:33 AM UTC
Nadoush,
In every name I ever whispered to God,
your face was there.
I gave you my youth,
my laughter,
the strength in my hands.
Now I have nothing left to offer
but the wreckage.
The rot that hums quietly inside me.
The kind of silence that aches.
I am what is left after the storm
a wound that learned how to walk,
a prayer that forgot its words,
an anchor afraid of water.
My faith is a habit now,
a muscle that twitches out of memory.
My prayers
they turn to smoke before they reach the sky.
What could these hands hold for you anymore?
Only sleeplessness,
and a disbelief that tastes like rust.
Every morning, nausea comes to greet me
like a disciple who never lost faith.
All I own is a fate
spinning like a coin in the devil’s palm.
I have loved you
a thousand and one times,
each time believing it would be the last.
And because of that
please
stay away from me.
Stay away from the fire
I built to keep from freezing,
from the smoke that calls your name
long after midnight.
In this world, I possess nothing.
Nothing but your eyes,
your scent in my memory,
and the sorrow that keeps me breathing.
They are my relics.
My small, ruined kingdom.
My undoing.
I kiss them both every night
the sorrow,
and the memory of you
and I call that prayer.
Nov 3, 2025
Nov 3, 2025 at 8:07 PM UTC
To the emotionally estranged,
I’ve never known what was good for me All I’ve ever known was how to tie my shoes and binge eat captain crunch You place your finger tips all over my stomach Padding each piece of lymph Do you ever want to curl like those little pillbugs? It seems like I haven’t seen one of those since you watched me eat dirt, and grass, and I’ve perhaps tried a dandelion But I don’t think you knew I’ve tied your shoes before My big tooth fell out on the driveway We searched for a minute, maybe two I tasted blood in my mouth for the first time It was like the early smell of gasoline I appreciated it And I said so I walked down the steps and turned the corner Your eyes lit up to see the seven year old wearing tights, long socks, a dress underneath a sweater and a thrifted vest, as well as a lost fedora found in the attic I pulled down the decrepit stairs and you heard the whine of bothered steps yelling up the stairs “what are you doing” Feathered Fedora shall be lost again The school’s Saint Patricks leprechaun stole it Or so you say to avoid the bi polar of it all The hospital was a new thing for me You took me, I sat silent in the passenger seat We played the radio (we never played the radio) I didn’t know if I should’ve apologized or something for having premarital *** But I don’t think it would’ve bothered you too much You’d be glad a boy liked me! Well, he didn’t like me like that I don’t know why he chose me that ***** ****** night You bought me a sweater from Michaels afterwards, it said something like “I believe in unicorns and Santa” It was on sale since it was January I won’t let you hold me, and how it needles you Wake I sang at her wake An Adele original I did it for me And you But also me Everyone’s tears dried by the time we reached the restaurant I wonder how they fixed the smash in her head while eating eggplant parm Mortisions are magical Some crimes I’ll never forget Asked why I don’t talk to him or text or call or like We will sit in this diner and recline in the giant booth that’s too big for the fragility of your body You pray for me Stop praying for me I take up much time I don't have the right virtues for all that Don’t overindulge in god Track me home at two am Make sure I’m safe I’ll keep tying your shoes, at the graduation, at the barbeque, at the talent show anywhere I’d fly home to tie your shoes if you asked me to if you wanted me to if you'd let me-
With a sort of deteriorating eternal love,
Angel
Sep 4, 2024
Sep 4, 2024 at 2:39 AM UTC
Wombed Dawn ascends /
Yearning to cascade /
Upon Treasured a gaian sphere, /
She is our earthly matriarch; /
O, Her aeonian epidermis /
Thirsts for aetherial droplets of dew /
That crash & quench in sonic frequencies, /
Under radiant, adamantine moonbeams, /
& Galvanic blue-hot lightning. /
The Melodious Winds beckon me /
As each susurrant breeze /
Brushes against my hair follicles /
Awakening the vagabond in me. /
Although I glean naught a zephyr /
I fathom the celestial compass of her travels, /
She spirits me away /
To surging airborne streams /
A sanctuary of life & lovelight. /
Rouse within me /
The somnolent Moonbeams /
That can only be seen /
As I glisten in the night; O, the liminal throes of twilight. /
Believe in me, /
Fathom my presence, /
Even when /
My corporeal vessel can no longer be seen, /
Be observed, in eyes bound by mortality. /
Trust in the stellar element /
Inhabiting your existence /
Upon this realm: /
You are a luminary, /
A beacon, /
A lodestar. /
Awaken to the fatidic foreordinance: /
A nascent constellation you've augured /
Upon your Beloved Creator's Mind's Sky. /
Shine, /
Shine, /
Desiderata, /
Shine, /
Shine, /
Materialista, /
Shine, /
Shine, /
Transcendentalista. /
(—Se' lah)
Oct 10, 2021
Oct 10, 2021 at 11:06 PM UTC
At Once
by Michael R. Burch
Though she was fair,
though she sent me the epistle of her love at once
and inscribed therein love’s antique prayer,
I did not love her at once.
Though she would dare
pain’s pale, clinging shadows, to approach me at once,
the dark, haggard keeper of the lair,
I did not love her at once.
Though she would share
the all of her being, to heal me at once,
yet more than her touch I was unable bear.
I did not love her at once.
And yet she would care,
and pour out her essence ...
and yet—there was more!
I awoke from long darkness,
and yet—she was there.
I loved her the longer;
I loved her the more
because I did not love her at once.
Published by The Lyric, Romantics Quarterly and Grassroots Poetry. Keywords/Tags: Epistle, love, antique, prayer, pain, shadows, lair, touch, heal, healing, share, sharing, companionship
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 11:38 PM UTC
dear home,
i’m sorry. for everything. wholeheartedly. i’m sorry for leaving you with empty space i felt uneasy filling. for doubting you were my scripted setting. for losing faith that you could fully foster me. for getting too comfortable, falling victim to fickle feelings. for getting caught in the hypnosis of distance. for taking your endless roads for granted when they cradled me along. i’m sorry i didn’t listen when they said light is crucial to grow. and not the artificial kind i’ve come to know. i don’t love what i left you for like i thought i would. now i’m slowly learning a lesson in choosing rash choices. you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. some cliches are that way for a reason. but best believe i’m drenched in the karma of leaving you in the embers. i’m burning too but in other worse ways. you see, consequence caught up to me. it’s coarsened my skin and forces fake smiles. it lodges pits in my guts and steals lustre from thoughts. i’ve suffered. i deserve it. but make it not for nothing. because i miss your aura. i miss your seas. i miss the way we moved with ease. i don’t know a god, but i pray to the sky, that you haven’t forgotten those paramount nights. where we made memoirs out of nothing more than time. the moments we drank each other in. i soaked in your sun, and you in my skin. dear, dear home, please take me back. if you haven’t filled my space with a more steady heart, we can rework our tempos or just restart. it’s a tough sell, i know, but i’m ready to evolve. be my sunstone. be my backbone. be a part of me in any way. i’ll turn my insides to clay to be what you need. whatever it is just please, please, please.
love,
a misplaced migrant
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 12:44 AM UTC
My Dearest; Darkest Devotion,
Ah, but what a long time it's been!
And now, it is with a slender paled sliver of hope this letter finds you before I arrive at your chamber, for I must solicit your heart with the contents of mine.
This night I ponder upward to the twinklings amid the void and my thoughts do turn to that time we first met, before I knew you, and how you let me know you, and eventually I let you know...me.
Having learned the truth of my true vampyric nature, your reaction was not as open a reception as I would have it. I concede I have not been the same sense you drove that plank through my chest and deep into my very still heart. There stayed I until, alas...
A hapless young wanderer, a splendid morsel of a group of people on a retreat from the town, rummaging through nature to find kindling for a bonfire, took grasp of the parcel of wood that protruded from the shallow earth where I was left forsaken, and in his misfortune did un-stake me.
I assure you, at this very moment, I feel quite quenched of my thirst.
My hunger for the sweetmeats of revenge have yet to be satiated, however, I will see you very soon, My Pitch Blackness. And you. too, shall see me.
Eternally yours,
Vladimir Tepes.
P.S. Happy Halloween.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 11:59 PM UTC
i'm writing to you because of circumstances beyond our control. the universe just decided to make me scribble down this epistle. my head rains, or perhaps it's hailing. regardless of what it is, it never snows.
i have jumbled, broken, fragmented consciousness, full of drawing advice and some stupid youtube video about a cat playing the keyboard, looped on repeat for eternity.
i was at the arcade the other day when it occurred to me that the world was a blank piece of lined paper and i was the pencil. but have you ever actually had to write from your mind alone? words flee you, coming and going and not sticking to paper.
during that trip i talked to strangers as they crowded around the cabinets, despite my mama's advice to be careful in the world. some looked at me with an awkward smile. maybe there i did write something, the prose of yesterday.
only the rain in my head never becomes a storm, i suppose. just bring an umbrella.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
I drive past a sign every day that reads
DRUG FREE SCHOOL ZONE
And every day I think about how that sign
Is dumb
Because what drug user would stop
Just because that sign told them to
Drugs are illegal anyway isn’t
Every zone supposed to be
DRUG FREE
What a stupid sign
Every day I pull into your driveway
And I look at that telephone pole that
Everyone backs into and I think about
How you are not dumb
But how so many people treat you like you are
Your brain works like a
Beautiful ball of thought yarn that
spins super cool knitted thought scarves
and you never lost your
child mind
Please remember that they
Are not better than you
That your mind weighs no
Less than anyone else’s
That your nicotine fingers are just
As worthy of a handshake
Please know that you are good enough
Know that you are not a stupid sign and
DRUG FREE SCHOOL ZONE
To be frank,
Sounds like a really bad time.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
You left me here alone and cold.
I miss you like you could never believe.
I doubted my faith every day,
And changed my mind again and again
Because if there was a god in this forsaken world
It wouldn’t want to take you away from me.
He is leaving me here alone and cold
I am missing him like the dead flowers on my windowsill
I doubt my faith every day now
And change my mind over and over
Because the god I chose to believe in,
Took you away from this forsaken world.
She is leaving me here alone and cold.
I miss her already like the grass in the winter.
I still doubt my faith everyday.
I will always change my mind when
Looking for something to truly believe in
Because every god I look to for help in this forsaken world,
Will still take her away from me.
I am leaving you cold and alone.
I hope you miss me like no other.
I hope you doubt your faith every ****** day,
And change your mind again and again
Because if there were a god in this forsaken world
I would have found a better way to save you.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
You’re snoring lightly, your jaw unhinged slightly, the little dipper of freckles on your shoulder peeking out from behind your sheets. The constellation I used to connect the dots to before you woke up. You’d throw the pen at my face, trying to keep your frown firm, but you’d crack and jump on my back as I ran from you down the hall. Merlin licking his paws, scrutinizing us from the doorway. As your legs wrapped themselves comfortably around my waist, twisting to my front I’d kiss your neck and you’d make that sound like warm whiskey.
I wish I could be with you when you wake up tomorrow. But your mother says its bad luck.
Just promise me you’ll still walk down the aisle if you wake up with my handy work on your shoulder.
I love you,
David
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 2:50 AM UTC
*Supreme Love,
Through a land of barren fields, leads to a nourishing tree, that rhythms in the wind like a heart of bleeding green.
There, you will find me, prostrating in its lingering boughs, gazing into your sky with smiles of Eros.
A nightgown of innocence awaits you in the lotus, falling amongst the constellations of my parallel.*
©Copyright 2007 Written and Edited by Racquel Davis
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC