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O, it is December,
A brumal, solemn,
Algid December;
I do fall
And I do quiver, in
Reminiscence
For it is December.

A throne
Worn, earthen-millefleur recliner
And I
Vestured in dereliction,
Crowned in
The Diadem of Loveless Blight:

Your utterances resound in
The dense sense of the past tense;
Ineffable magistry,
Where our
Scintillations and propagations might emblazon
The Luminous Seeds of the Stars.

Your soul
Waxeth Messianic,
In those
Pithy moments
Of our ethereal communion.

        Your porcelain epidermis
                                                And azure irides
                                    Quaked mine senses
                                                          ­ Until every sight was
                                                 ∞Arcadian∞

O, Where
                        Have you gone
            Glaceaen Arcadia?

     O, Is the
            Fulgurant Vista
     You sparked in
Mine Mind’s Sky
              Now twilit, a starless Aether?

Breathe me
            Anew, that the Auric Chalice of Amour might pour
Me into thee, set me free, let me be
                              Yours and yours
                                        Alone (∞).
            

O, it is December,
A brumal, solemn,
Algid December;
I shall transcend
And I shall remember
Your infinite arms,
For it is December.
Timur Shamatov Nov 2018
Succumbing to ghosts of lustful past
Knowing that my soul will be the price
Falling further into beauty of our chaos

Baby, I love the way you take it slow
You are the angel at my door and
The devil within me, taking all control

We both know how this will end
Yet, we push on; falling victim to our past
Lonely ghosts reappearing on algid night.
Sometimes even knowing that it’s bad for you, we still push on because it’s familiar.
Nyx
I am wrapped in her algid arms.
I am lost in her evocative glare.
I stand, environed by the Keres,
Those dilapidated demons.

Azrael, my craven shadow, clings
To me as a vulture stalks its prey.
Thanatos does each step possess
Forward into this acidulous air.

Fissured masks release languid screams
That fall upon pallid faces that have
Long since wilted in her Stygian womb.
Enervated laughs drone in mangy ears.

I stand on the periphery of this
Asphyxiating cistern. I ambulate
Across this sable field that shall
Become the executioner’s blade.
Jesse stillwater Dec 2018
In a distance an emptiness echoes,
another lonesome dove's sigh
is carried away with the leaves

silence annulled by tempest gusts
as late autumn winds
belatedly lay bare the trees;

the sad song in the wind
repined for golden days
bowing sun ripened amber fields
dancing with the moment's sway

now windswept wild feathers  
chase after the waning sunlight
bucking prevailing headwinds
just beneath heaven's glow

sail away! — sail away!
way up on high!
O' birds of a feather
sail away!

begone — bygones — begone
homeward bound
from north and south
on  an algid heavenward flight


Jesse Stillwater ... winter solstice ... 2018
PrttyBrd Oct 2015
Souls reaching out
Passing in the night unseen
Wrapping each other in love
Warming the algid distance
I feel you course through me
It brings me peace
While my presence brings you comfort
In the lives we lead alone,
We are but half of who we could be
Less than what we should be
A piece of you is here with me
As my heart resides in you
Half a life
Barely connected to each day
Both lost and found within one another
There is no joy not tempered with pain
The only pure emotion, our love
'Tis all that sustains us
As we die breathing stagnant air
In the absence of ourselves
103815
Dying a little more
Each breath I take without you
Miss Jade Murder Sep 2013
As I lay dying from across the room, bleeding from across my heart.
I said I swear, I hope to die.
Didn't know you'd consummate my request.
With strained, staring eyes and with my last will I reach to you.
Back demolished, lungs collapsed, brow furrowed, hand imbrue with my A positive evolutionary force.
Drip.
And drip.
Hand, now algid, now violaceous.
Can't. Engage. Muscle memory. Rigidity.
My limbs are limp, my last sacrifice for you.
I never told you that I can see your soul, your aura.
In this very second, as I lay fixated on your glaring portals, your broken windows, I am the one who procures this victory.
Because even though my mortal being is becoming nullified at the expense of your hand...
It was me who broke your heart.
It was my touch that pirated your soul and you will die.
Your energy will never be able to speak another's name again.
Alex E Morris Dec 2010
A chilling breeze touches your face
Eye's blinded by the dusty powder

Your heart beats at an un-even pace
As if affected by the abstruse silence

Louder and louder it gets
warmth from your person exerts into the air around you
Chills run through gashes in your clothing, distinctly smelling of cigarettes
In the distace, echos of chattering and shivering
bounce back from the white, icy layers askew

A toe, Then a heel
The ghost of heat that surrounds the body is gone
Gusts of algid nothingness blow in your face by a small pinwheel
Darting pupils reveal scintillating lights,
Appearing one second and vanishing with the dawn

Something embeded in the mind, forever dormate throughout seasons,
The silence, the serenity, the solace of winter
Algid aether whisked over
pure white translucence;
under twilight’s luminescence
her enchanting eidolon-hovering
afloat, screams off her plight,
sprouting orbs of delight,
it was love at first fright.
Love is intangible. You can only sense its presence.
Mike Essig Nov 2015
First gelid dawn
of the dying year.

A crescent moon
shivers above
achromatic frost.

Four crows perch
like fluffy black
lumps of ice
on taut power lines.

Hungry sparrows peck
the severe ground.

The old poet
fears the cold.

Chilled eyes notice
bare ruined trees
and windshields
waiting to be scraped.

The earth has pulled
the covers up
around its neck,
wakes stiff and slow,
but stays in bed.

Cold's bony fingers
probe the old house
like burglars seeking
points of entry.

Still, the chill roads
point toward the
inevitable return
of warmth;
                  spring sits
silent as a cat waiting
for a door to open,
bidding its time
to counterattack.

Even on the most
algid morning
hope slumbers,
but never dies.

  ~mce
Odd Odyssey Poet Jun 2022
Galloping,—
a harras of silhouette in the night’s shade.
Prancing swiftly as carelessly as winds in their mane.
Grey smoke blows out of their muzzle;
like hot ash subduing the algid night air.

A hill covered in a dark following,
a caliginous beauty site,—
In the uncut grass, trampled by costless hooves.
I was the ground crunched by a night’s dream.

My eyes shut; nervous by the shaking lips,
and cold sweats. It was beautiful,—
it was dark. It was wild; yet felt so freeing.
I was it’s witness, and conjecture.
I was in awe by beauty, but left breathless by
it’s haunting perception.

So was it a ghastly dream, or an alluring nightmare?
Jack Nov 2014
~

“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”

Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes

“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”

Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin ******* excite at the touch, firming
Mouths meet across milky shoulders

“Chilly coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”

Reaching behind delicate fingers guide, slowly
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sticky, sweet
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite

“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”

Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment

“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”

My name, loudly called, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap

“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”

Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world

*“As our love provides winter’s perfect heat”
Hey, it is cold...just trying to stay warm.  :)
Nikki Longmuir Jul 2013
I was as young as air is fresh on the first spring day
I roamed around my tired, empty house,
With only the crackling of the radiator for conversation
A combination of boredom and thirst
Motivates me as I waltzed into the kitchen

Purple faded headphones blasted
A spice girls song from around my neck
I stretched my arm out as far as I could
to **** open the refrigerator
The last water bottle in front of me
I took without a second thought

Eager for the cool comfort of crisp consolation
I tilted my head back, allowing a delicate stream to enter
In a brief, abrupt moment, a cigarette
**** meets the tip of my tongue
Immediately I spat out the uninvited guest
my knees embraced the ground
With weak knees and glistening eyes
I begged my toothbrush for alleviation

my teeth were clean, yet the taste evidently remained
It lingered like chalky autumn air
Tasting like rain soaked leaves
It was building a home on the back of my tongue

Desperate I lunged for the freezer
and greedily snatched an ice pop
My trembling hands fumbled with the wrapper,
As smooth saliva slithered down my chin
The first chilling bite sent me into a
cloudburst of algid winter bliss

the foul taste in my mouth
began to tenderly dissolve
Knowing limited time was left,
it clung as if my tongue was a cliff
my hero overpowered the chalky bitterness,
just like that it was gone
I joyfully squealed as the corners of my lips
met my flushed cheeks
the rest of my hours were spent eating Popsicles,
Ecstatic with freedom from a terrible villain
And although it was cold outside,
I felt like a warm summer night
Blooden'd tears fall upon
Thy tender cheek.
A hollow chime is laid
Bare on swollen ears.

The blank canvas of thy
Body lies still like a mirror'd
Pool in aspect of night's
Algid face of innocence.

Under evocative, tragic skies,
In the fields of summer bright,
Lost in lamentation's hue
Thy death as sweet as roses' bloom.
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
Dried-out sweat, tired-out eyes
Placards coated in reds and blacks
Hair strands wet, vermillion skies
Whiteout sneakers underneath slacks

Chipping bricks adorned with dusk's glow
Soft thuds drown in bustling sidewalks
Concrete walls enrobed in guised woes
Like calls of Cincinnati clocks

Down the path's lead, an alley lies
Only known by a few handful
An easy shortcut for the wise
A definite route for the fool

Empty blocks pampered in ruins
Grow dahlia shrubs in feeble soil
Yet cherished by passing humans
As they perceive in gleeful toil

Click, clack. Tip, tap.
Echoing the narrow pathway
Click, clack. Tip, tap. Click, clack. Tip, tap.
Reverberating the walkway

Gush of summer coldness trickles
Playing with thin skin's hair to stand
Along evening's hazy drizzles
Until lips' beam's closed by a hand

Frozen. Motionless. Absolute.
Pulsating ears, vibrating fears
I, the troubled, straightaway mute
Searching for comfort in fresh tears

Frigid, sharp blade graze flesh through clothes
Algid, rough palms tightened their grip
With trembling mouth, whimpers in lows
Time's ticking, closer to the tip

"How dare you go against!?" he yells
His voice falling on deaf pavements
Alike encaging prison cells
Beneath wretched, worn-out basements

Writhed free from his desperate hold
Unclasped myself, away I go
Yet burly hands grab my shirt's fold
On my side, planting the grand blow

The night weakens, the knife deepens
Meeting downcast eyes as I stare
Remorseless, the demon wakens
No plans—this petty soul—to spare

Deafening shrieks still ring my ears
The masses' cries of unjustness
Voices crystal clear amid tears
Demur of headstrong robustness

Earlier's protest fresh in mind
Echoing as I reminisced
Realized the shrills' suit unfeigned
Are screams from my own throat's abyss

Away from the hustling streetscape
For anyone to hear my plea
In desperate crawls to escape
He lifts the wood in counts of three

Bashed head meet placards to shatter
Jagged splinters abrade my face
Entwined with rain's pitter-patter
To finish me off, just in case

Each and every breath nears to none
Boulevard of dreams come broken
The mist douse this limp body done
I take my last, eyes wide open

Dried-out life, tired-out cries
Pebbles coated in reds and blacks
****** palms rife, obsidian skies
Lone witnessed—mum dahlias on cracks.
Day 5 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. This woke me up all night, and definitely not regretting. Yes, I love dahlias.
Jason Oct 2021

There's something amiss in my desperate laugh,
A misty, wistful wish, an algid disparate draft,
Finest thread of dread winding its way throughout,
Vines, verdant, spread, binding my hope to doubt,
Booming drum shaking foundations made of sand,
Tinkling of breaking glass creations out of hand,
Spilling out and over, released lest the dam burst,
Consuming as if lover, heedless of best-verse-worst,
Best nightmares, worst dreams, in the end, it's all the same,
Unheard cares and thoughts mean, play the grandest games.

10/26/21 Jason R Michie All Rights Reserved
Kellin Oct 2013
Jaded heart
          Damaged soul
lost love
        Algid heart
deceptive tongue
         Empty eyes

long ago
      He stood-
Blissful sunrise
         Temperate heart

long ago
         I dreamed-
Decalscent heart
            Animate soul

then
      We encountered-
face to face
  Then we afforted-
               Heart to heart

now
        We're alive
made whole

now  
        We're together
Made Definite
Elena Feb 2012
The footsteps of one voice, impressions made
Upon the crown of worlds we are and not
Familiar. A voice asphyxiated now
By God’s eternal rest, the steps scrubed,
All evidence of past existence void.
The algid night warmed by sunset’s palette.
Coastland is cast aside in the gloom and cold,
Of winters bite and scratch that seeps inside.
The sands of Time and Shore joined silent by
Invisible mortar, like by magnets choice.
Frost sways and rocks above the muted town,
Then turns descending swift as kites retreat.
The waves verbosely lap along the shore,
Companion’s creased hand pulses mine with life.
My poignant awareness of being paused,
By sight of the delicate form of a
Butterfly lying in the sand so still.
Beholding her, the small shell of one life,
Whose wings so perfect, eerie and intact.
My pulsing hand held the laconic frame
Of life whose soul had fled to greater heights.
So great its beauty and so great my awe,
That felt I a vivid urge to lift mine eyes
To sky so vast, to heaven far away.
Please comment! I would love to hear feedback both positive and critical.
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Timothy H Dec 2015
I have yet
to write
a single
poem

certainly I can
rhyme and meter
compose a verse
haiku
limerick
and build cadence
yet
it’s
withheld
refrained
restrained
it does not allow nor admit
in fact
it’s fraudulent
a paean sin of omission
omitting truth
vulnerability and
humanity!
why not weep of wide
open
limpid lucidity?
why not the magic of
heartfelt disclosure?
each ****** feature fearlessly
presented with palpable pretensionless
petals that the sun skips
over skin through
sky of algid air as
each lung
animates
all admissions
tumbling down
in the merriment
that transports
grace
eternal, primal
screams
ancient
songs
that release grudges
from muscles
the mysterious immersed magnificence that
confronts a chartreuse day as an
unimaginable
gift
through the lens of immediate
freedom
with burdens and cares
falling away to
a purely peaceful
poise
not a song, sonnet nor
a single sentence
rather the grasping of
a fresh infusing of
divine pleasure
Copyright 2015 Timothy A. H.
Emmanuel Oct 2016
Everyday,
I've gazed upon your enchanting visage.
Not the most beautiful of 'em all,
but there's something spellbinding
about you.
Like an iridescent pearl inside of an oyster.

Everyday,
I chant magnificent lyrics,
hoping that you could hear
harmonious melodies
that you've bestowed
unto my heart.
Beating --- slowly ---
at the march of your drum.
As if our hearts
are tethered as one;
intertwining our fate.

One hollows eve,
you've seen something special in me,
so you took a pair of scissors,
and cut my stem
from this rambunctious thicket.

I loved the feeling of your hand.
Warm, tender, yet firm.
It contrasts the bitter air
that latches onto your skin,
making its hairs stand on its end.
I could've made you feel cozy,
but sadly,
I didn't.

You took me to places
that makes my eyes water
every time I reminisce
about
us.

Do you still remember
when we went to the beach
with white sands
that feels like soft powder
on your skin?
A sunset that looks like
a vast canvass
watercolored with intricate brush strokes
of saturated rose quartz',
lilacs, and oranges.
Palm trees lined up for miles.
We've Imbibed on ardent spirits
while looking at the ravishing scenery.
How I've ached for this moment
to last
for more than one's own sweet time.

We headed off to your apartment.
After we've entered,
we took our jackets and scarves off
before heading to your kitchen.
You made hot cocoa
with tiny bits of marshmallows for you,
and iced americano for me.
We looked at each others iris'
as we talked for hours on end,
about life's devious plots.

Those eyes---
It's gentle, but at the same time,
you could see a great inferno
burning inside those scintillating garnets.
I know that it's a little unnerving,
but I'm having a hard time
resisting this unquenchable urge
to stare at it.

After our extensive heartfelt conversation,
silence filled the room.
Silence so sharp and numbing,
it could shatter glass.
In a heartbeat,
you've extended your hand,
so I held it.
Casted me a bewitching gaze
that made my heart skip a wallop.
Your cheeks turned into a florid tone,
and the nipping air
started to seem tranquil.
I could only feel this longing desire
of lovingly interweaving with your threads,
and so did you.

Stumbling about,
you dragged me into your balcony garden,
took a final look at my dilating visors,
before you started to inch towards my face, and clasped your cold, tender lips against mine.
My mind turned crepuscular,
as I held your waist tightly,
pressed my weight against yours,
and fervently kissed you
between this ragged concrete wall.

We slipped out of our clothes
like snakes shedding out of its skin,
and sprawled it all over the algid floor.
I carefully laid you on the sofa,
and gently nipped your delicate,
fragrant neck.
You dug your nails passionately
on my shoulder blades,
as I necked you from a gentle
to a rough pace.
Maybe I went too hard,
hence the noticeable congelation.
My lips slowly traced her neck,
down to her navel.
I could feel pain crossed with pleasure,
as you harshly tugged on my mane
while I gorged on your grand banquet.
We sat up and tightly embraced.
You enlaced your legs on my waist,
as I've cautiously entered your temple.
My love, we're one at last.
I could hear your gentle moans
as we heaved and weaved
through this concupiscent atmosphere
that we've invoked.
The longer this lasts, the more I could feel our bond growing stronger.

Two suns
finally reached its eminent zenith.
We laid on our backs,
desperately catching our breath
while laying on a puddle of perspiration.
We've gazed at each others' eyes,
and let out fits of giggling.

If only I knew that this would be
our final jocund moment together,
I would've savored it more.

Woke up with a note
stating that there's breakfast on the table.
Runny sunny side eggs, buttered toast,
and pan seared cherry tomatoes.
I would've ate
if you blessed me with you presence,
but I don't have the appetite
to break my fast at this instance.

I dressed myself, and grabbed my jacket
before I left.

Dusk turned into dawn,
and there's no sign of you.
I keep texting and ringing you up,
but to no avail.
I ended up falling asleep,
while looking at our pictures on my phone.

At my favorite café,
I was enjoying my morning brew,
but my vision turned blue,
when I saw you holding another rose.
Hastily, I ran up to you.
I was expecting a warm welcome,
but all I got was a cold shoulder.
You pretended that I was just another
blockhead rambling about.
After you brushed me off
and went your way,
my chest ached and my aqueducts opened to let excess tears gush out.

Every 3:00AM I wake up
to my heart thundering
and cold sweats;
turning breathing into a herculean task.
Memories starts to flood in.
I'm at my wit's end,
clinging onto the last fibers
of my sanity.

Gradually, my petals started to wilt.
Petal by petal
they fall off,
swaying in the air's gentle cradle,
before landing on autumn leaves.

Everything about you torments me,
but I'd rather stay,
than live without you.

What kind of monster are you?
You gave my world color,
when everything was monotone.
Left me without admonishment
about my cruel predicament.
Left me on the sidewalk,
feeling like trash.

Now everyday, I think about you.

Everyday, I long for you.

Everyday, I love you.

Everyday--- I'm dying slowly.
Mike Essig Apr 2015
The frozen meadow
is a hard, white
**** carpet.
Seven wild turkeys
arrayed in a
gobbling skirmish line
pick their way
carefully across it.
I stand silently
on the frozen deck
in my bare feet
and watch.
The algid world
contains us all,
no exceptions.
Strutting fowl,
the flaneur
who watches,
no one escapes
this brumal vista.
The God of heaven
is simultaneously
the God of phenomena.
Skepsis slips away
when your toes
are cold.
  - mce
Tennessee winter
Linux Jul 2018
We swing emptily like mannequins,
As the algid wind starts to harass our skins.
The ****** behind my oldfangled clothing,
Begins to define you, as my everything.

Our ears were fed by the gloomy sonata,
That finally heals my dreary nostalgia.
My shoulder became the bed for your head,
That had dozed your eyes, away from dread.

And you commenced a euphonious hum,
Mimicking the melody of the viola and drum
"I love you" I uttered with sophistication,
And our lips collided, without hesitation.

Until the midnight music stopped,
And my world had ceased in an abrupt
You had slowly faded from my senses,
Realizing that our moments are just contrivances.

The gloomy midnight sonata is just a song,
From a movie I had watched for so long.
It brings back pain, it brings back blue.
Everytime I hear the melody, it reminds me of you.
Mike Essig Jan 2016
Eyes open to terror
in the algid morning.
Creeping matutinal
dementia; What
world is this?
Less recognizable
each silent morning.
Ghosts flit and fade.
Dawn's rosy fingers
clutch your throat.
So difficult to
rouse in this world
devoid of desire.
Why are there
no flamingoes?
What happened to
the exaltation
of singing birds?
Where have all
the women gone?
Each day a lesser
version of the last.
Each morning a tomb.
Be patient. Hope
the stones are rolled
away. Hope to emerge
into light. Life is
light; life uncertain;
the future not
what it used to be.
It is so hard
to wake up and
create creation
when you are
not a god.
Pretend divinity.
Pretense is where
old men go to die
and the only
way they manage
to live. Make coffee,
make images, make do.
Something or nothing
awaits.

  ~mce
Jamie L Cantore Mar 2017
Ah! if my youth were a perdurable
trance! My reality not roused till a
sun's expanse; where an aeon could prompt the first blush. Perhaps, though
those extended dreams were flush
with futile grieving, yet better than
algid facts of Existence, & relieving
kindled verve, to whose heart just
is, and always has since birth; still
within the pleasing earth, a snarl
of longing rage from her surge.

But should it come to pass--that
vagary unceasingly continuing--
as trances have always passed
in my youth--could it be this
winnowing revelled in the sky
in dreams in their bright truth
found lost within a great lie
in dreams of happier times?
I shall slumber a bit longer,
to seek out the scatterings of
Life's little difficult answers:
but I age all the while I sleep on
hopes and wake I still anchored.
Aqueous bombs descend from these eyes /
As I wonder beneath nightfall. /
Seeing, hearing the kaleidoscopic dream /
As it unravels, unfurls through me /
Heightens my perceptivities. /

I am luminous, I am luminous /
As I glisten upon the dreamscape. /
I am a cosmic reverberation, /
An ethereal resonation /
Luminosity, blue-hot./

Self-sovereignty: /
I am a freedom all my own, /
Lows (algid), /
Highs (empyreal, pyroclastic); /
I am astral. /
Estelle Dec 2018
Icicles line the town
The gelid air wrapping at the window
Darkness twinkles with the moon
Stairs creak with every footstep

The sitting room twinkles, a halcyon feeling settles
Will I see Santa tonight?
His cookies sat patiently, the opposite of algid, having just been made
The milk, cold and awaiting, the jolly man's arrival.

I perch myself down behind a stiff stair
hoping to see the crimson, chipper fellow
Who appears and disappears too quickly

Situated, lingering for hours waiting,
I soon drifted off to the luminous lights hung all around
I suppose he is eternally a mystery.

Light bells abruptly fill the open air,
I slowly stir, apparent of the noise,
T'was only a second, a dream seemingly so realistic

A red outlined figure came in and slowly hurried back out.
Rubbing my eyes, quickly, I dash forward
but to my dismay, nothing was there but glistening presents
and a bare plate and glass.

Christmas wonder, filled my conscious
whether a dream or not, this Christmas is mine
Quintessence, my secret.
the Nov 2017
you are here with me on the risque night
i feel the warmth of a youthful twain
but you are algid, like a broken statue
i see the scars drawn on your arms
don't worry, i got them too

your arms hold as many scars as mine
ah, what a match we'd make!

altogether, we are going to infirmary
we hold each other tight, like a rope
but it takes the courage to tell you
how beautiful you look in the rain
with water-soaked tears, it won't pass

i persuade this is one last time
but i've had too many "last times"

and sometimes, i fear it will be my last
i don't care what they say, i don't care
speak clauses with your fissured eyes
and move mountains with your smile
wake me up and lay with me in bed for hours

but don't tell me you love me
this isn't a love poem

i'll hold my time, i will stay strong
patient, oh what a virtue that is!
hopelessly hopeful i tire and bore myself
to reach unknown roads to your heart
but i get nowhere, it's been forever

i see the truth, your eyes are for him
they won't see mine but i can wait this out
wait for something to spark and fade
put away your blank pages that coat your face
you're so beautiful that it hurts sometimes

i'm taking these trips to the hospital alone
and don't tell me you love me, i don't care
because this was never a love poem
this was never a love letter, it's nothing
but just the reality

ah, you said we had years ahead of us
but you said we'd feel better soon
i wish i had slit your throat
to bleed ceaselessly for me
but you don't feel a ******* thing anymore
Brenna Gracely Nov 2017
Blue-eyed girl, why is it that you cry your soft tears?

I cry when the darkness consumes me
Its tenebrous mouth devours my glimmering being
With spindly hands immersing my heart in a well that travels down down down too far.
A maze of rotting algid bowels benumb me,
Paralyzed by its poison sludge
That clogs my breath and silences the drum that pounds inside me.
If I could flee
I would.
But instead I am bound by the caustic chains of fear.

Oh blue-eyed girl, does that make you weep?

I weep, I sob
in a tumultuous wave of agonizing gratitude
When a pure and beaming body sets ablaze the darkness and climbs in with me.
I only weep when illuminated.
I save my heaviest tears for the light.

— The End —