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Hello Paper, I'm Pen…

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Poetry

Mirrors

Terrifyingly effective at showing us the monsters within.

Pens

You are just another never,

Always to be remembered,

Never to be replaced.

Grace

For others have found grace in silence,
Solace in solitude,
And understanding through observance.

It is the human condition to be weak,
To be human,
To seek the experience of experience.

It is our way to love selfishly,
Live selfishly,
And obliterate all that is true and pure.

It is our nature to challenge that which cannot be changed,
Bend the world to break to our will,
To desire the undesirable.

It is our way to be forgetful;
Doubtful and skeptical of all that we cannot modify.
We forget those before us,
Who have found grace— in silence,
Solace in solitude,
And understanding through observance.

 

Desire

I dream of a love so pure only heaven could have sent it,

Crave passion so raw gods would envy it.

I desire love in its truest form,

Love born from our destinies—written in the stars.

Adulthood

Mother never warned me of the perils of adulthood.
I suppose I’ve had the pleasure of discovering them by myself.

Wicked

I often fantasize of your lips–
oh, what wicked deeds they do.

Sideburner Love Stories

They never tell you how it really feels,
Just how it’s supposed to.
Never how you quake in shame from the sidelines,
knowing you will never be the chosen.
Never to be loved….never to feel love.They never tell you of sadness,
A sadness so deep it rips through the blighted currents of your very core.
They never tell you:
Your unending wait will always be just that….unending.They’ll never tell you:
Love won’t ever come your way.
Never pity your unending wait.
You sad-sad little bird,
You hope–
Too much.

Enemy of Old (Loosely based on Kresley Cole’s Lothaire)

An enemy of old, or would you much prefer a new one?
My endless wrath will rain upon you without mercy.
I feel not, I feign no feeling,
My ruthless reign  unparalleled.
I am the enemy of old, or would you much prefer a new one?

A formidable opponent lies before you,
Unquenchable lust belies quenchable thirst.
A thirst for the most blissful of desires.
I will love you harder than any other, sear your lustful body with unforgettable kisses.
Your temple, marked for me, my eyes only.
My passion for you burns hotter than the planes of ten thousand suns.
I dare you to err it.
An enemy of old, or would you much prefer a new one?

***Recently I read Kresley Cole’s paranormal romance: Lothaire,  I believe it is book number 12 in the Immortals After Dark series. Needless to say the main character made quite the impression on me. After I finished reading the novel I was compelled to write a poem loosely based on it. I have not been writing a lot lately, and by no means am I poetic (fiction writing is sort of my thing). Well I hope you enjoyed what I had to offer. Feedback is always welcome.***

And If I May Ask

If I kissed you with my eyes open, would it be less than a kiss?
If I loved you with my eyes open, could I still call it unconditional love?

Save Your Tears

A past love once told me:
“Save your tears, nobody has time for them”
I suppose I haven’t learned anything at all from those words:
I’ve cried for one person since.

Heaven In Your Eyes

I used to see heaven in your eyes.

Today I see hell,
I see a reflection–myself,
The ghost of a girl who once had faith in herself,
Naive–
I see myself,
Flaws and all–you fail to recognize them,
Cannot comprehend them–
Heaven has lost it’s splendor.
Yet I stand transfixed –yearning for another glimpse.

Life After the Death of Love

A flower cannot bloom without the gentle warmth of sunshine,
A maestro cannot be master without his instrument,
You and I cannot self-sustain without heartbeats unified–we are one.

We were one since the day we laid eyes on each other,
One, the very first time I stepped into your arms—enchantment, your embrace—
One, the very first time we traded ” you are mine and I am yours.”

You and I were destined to be—
Destined to be love,
Destined to be loved,
Destined to create love—
It was not written in the stars,
Our destiny much greater— ‘twas written by our hearts,
One.

My dear sweet love,
How do I exist without you?
Support—
moral,
Emotional,
Life—support,
How?

You lie there,
Your very being dwindles before me,
As I breathe you slowly leave—
Punishment, eternal punishment.

You leave me,
You leave us.

You leave every hope,
Every dream—that we’ve ever shared,
You leave it all with your last breath—
You leave me to hope,
Dream it—all alone.

As you leave me in a hopeless place,
I am gripped by fear,
Anger and grief,
These emotions I feel–all for you,
Will you understand?
Understand that life after the death of love—your love is unimaginable?
The pain unbearable?
The loss irreparable?
I am left broken.
Left knowing the missing piece of my heart’s puzzle is gone—
Gone forever.

Perhaps in another place—in another time,
Unbound by the limits of life— you will understand my love,
You are life,
My life.

Dash

And just like that my last bit of everything slipped through the cracks.

The Sweetest Nothings Never Whispered

The sweetest nothings never whispered are the ones the heart yearns for.
Not the I love you’s, but the I love you for you
All that you are,
Your every imperfection,
Your every scar.

The sweetest nothings never whispered,
The appeal lies not within the sex appeal–the appeal for sex,
A deep unyielding attraction to my intellect is what I desire.

“You are beautiful”,
Words–shallow,
I desire: “I am hypnotized by you–caught by your personality,
Entranced by your outlook,
Outlook –life,
Beyond life,
A look at and into life,
Life from a different angle,
The angle often overlooked–
Life from your perspective”.

The sweetest nothings never whispered,
I want to know you,
Need to know you,
The real you–
The delicate you,
The part of you locked away from a world so cold,
So heartless,
The part of you that my love should nurture–help mature.

I want to be all that you need,
All that you require,
The full-filler of your every whim–your heart’s desire,
I want to– will be the fruition of all the sweetest words ever whispered–to you.
I want to be yours.
Mind,
Body,
Soul,
Forever.

Traces

Trembling fingers trace along a delicate “barely there” line– passion.
My unstable thoughts, sordid reminders of my yesterday.

I had a dream,
I dreamt I had a heart –yesterday.
Today I am still lost– barely here,
I lost my passion.
Lost my zest for passion,
I am lost.

Maybe i’ll recover traces of my heart tomorrow,
Maybe i’ll recover traces of my dreams today– or maybe just someday,
Maybe  one day…. just maybe, i’ll recover traces–traces of my former self.

To “You”– whoever you are

I miss you–but you don’t miss me the same.
I love you–but you didn’t love me the same.
My thoughts are consumed by you.

I remember the moments,
The intimate,
Laughter filled,
Love struck moments.

The camaraderie,
The trust,
The delicate fleeting touches,
Intimacy,
I miss you– but you don’t miss me the same.
I love you but you never loved me the same.

We needed a chance to make it right,
To iron out the wrinkles in our young chaotic love,
But the silence– so loud,
It was deafening,
The silence widened the gap,
The gap that had already formed in the midst of our special place,
The silence hurt,
It still hurts.

I wonder why you couldn’t love me,
Didn’t try to work at loving me,
I gave my heart,
I love you.

The difference between you and I is: you chose to let our love turn to ” loved”,
choose to hold to the feeling, hoping that one day I will be given equal parts love and equal parts commitment.

Until then,
Whoever “you” are ,
I miss you–but you don’t miss me the same.
Until then,
Whoever “you” are ,
I love you but you don’t love me the same.

 

Indigo

Twisted fairy tales,
Happily never afters,
Myths of contentment,
We have all come to resent them–
Shades of uncertainty.

While we search for completion,
Other halves,
The “love” not within ourselves,
The one we desire from “other halves”,
We fail to see the complexity of our inner worlds,
Splattered in shades of indigo.

Darkened shades of bleeding hearts,
Hearts that no longer bleed red–they bleed the most intense shades of indigo.

For the ones who only feel blue now,
For the ones who only feel in complex shades of blue,
It is the sole representation of everything battered,bruised and abused.
Egos,
Hearts,
Minds,
Souls,
All part of the complex beauty,
The complex yet beautiful shades of indigo.
It is a shade, yet it is not a shade. It is instead a representation of life– of feelings darker than we know what to do with–yet subtle enough to repress.

The passive heart dreams in indigo,
Lives– exists in it’s shades,
A natural state of complexity– even though just a shade.

Late Night Torture

I lie awake

Nude
Thoughts askew
Late night torture.

The subconscious fascinates me–just not mine
My subconscious suffocates me
I lie awake, alive –but barely breathing
My thoughts
My subconscious suffocates me.

I am weary my –body sore
Yet my subconscious won’t allow me the peace I yearn for

I’ve given my subconscious a name
A quite fitting name
We’re on personal terms
He and I
His name is Snake
Yes it’s a him not a her.

We’re on personal terms
But the truth is–I don’t like Snake
Snake’s sole pleasure is derived from my sorrow
My angst
The fruition of my deepest fears
My fears
Or
Whatever he sees fit to use in his unyielding attempts break me
To break my spirit.

He’s a tricky one– my subconscious
He slyly waits until I’m at the point of exhaustion
Till I can’t fight the thoughts
Till I can’t fend off his cruel advance.

He’s here now
Waiting
Just waiting for me to drift
Drift into a fitful slumber
But I’ve found a way to outsmart him–the power lies within my pen.

He doesn’t know it
He need not know it
He’ll never know it
He’s not interested in what I do–
Just in me
And in finding new ways to break me
Yet another another swift twist of his vengeful blade
Adding to the agony of my late night torture.

Reflection

She gazed keenly into the hazy reflection of herself
Embedded so deeply within the reflection of her self
A complete stranger
How odd—to know that she’s become a stranger to herself
What an odd reflection.

It diffracts— the reflection
Momentarily lost
She blinks twice—the reflection—gone
Gone without a trace
An illusion? Was it?
Was her reflection ever a reflection of herself?
Did she ever truly exist?

Free

We willfully surrender our hearts to love,
We trust without a second thought,
We feel because feeling is our most natural state,
We fall because we are destined to rise again.

We have nothing to fear but fear itself,
If we willfully open our minds,
Our hearts,
Our souls– to even the slightest touch of love,
We will be free.

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