#mounds
Don't fall in love with an artist.
You'll come to love the way
the beauty of the world
reflects through their eyes
in an awestruck childish glimmer
and you won't remember how to see
when they're gone.
No one will love you like an artist can.
They'll memorise all the tones
of your skin
and perfect the shades
in every mound and valley
and they'll only paint
with black and white
when you're gone.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
These Burial Mounds
Don't reserve spots
It just is what it is
The dead can't speak
Because they died from physical defeat
In the tides of war
Leaving the mental condition sore.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
Our love was like snow.
It was gentle yet cold,
Pieces of the sky,
Pieces of us,
Drifted and fell.
Darling it’s cold out here,
In this winter bound heartbreak.
Kindled firewood,
Bundled up in blankets,
I tried everything to keep the frostbite out.
Slowly you crept back in,
Like frost in the night,
Covering every inch of my eternal sunshine.
My unhinged mind and my papier-mâché heart,
Folded in on one another with every dispute of my soul.
Snow ever falling,
Piling up in inches,
Measuring my heart diminishing.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC