There's a body, Or what might be, Or what might have been; Broken, Twisted, In some impossible Caricature of life - Macabre puppet Who lost his strings; Fur matted and patchy, Trailing miserably In the stagnant water Of his choosing; Hidden, Or mostly, By the grate - The bars - The cage. Protected? Isolated. I try to reach, I try to glimpse A sign of life, A tiny Spark of joy; I hold my breath and listen For a word, But he is gone, Or cannot hear me, Or was never even there.
She was a star
his guiding light
and he chased her glowing blindly,
Every night
he sat in darkness
with his eyes fixed on her radiance,
convinced
the day had nothing to compare
So when she left
his night was lightless
and the dark expanse eternal,
and he lit himself some candles
but their flicker couldn't last,
Each one he snuffed
to turn
and face his star's remains.
But then day found him
and the sunbeams came
to kiss his shrunken frame,
And for moments
bathed in daylight
they stood tall and hand in hand,
and he grew
and almost found a glow his own.
But he couldn't see the sky
for the stardust in his eyes,
Every night he ground it in
in h
When our love was young
it grew tall and strong
like a fruit tree
And I rosy and fat
from its fruit
When the autumn came
and our fruits
were cast
to rot
upon the ground
I gathered them
Buried them deep
Sealed their casket
and refused
to look inside
Through the winter
I barely knew
of their existence
but for
the pain
of their festering
But over time
their fermenting
matured their sweetness
into wine
Which I draw up now
to enjoy
what still remains
The pain has passed
and I can taste
the mellowed memory
of our summer
Come join me in this new year
Sit
Sip from our story
Drink of our love.
It's not the thrill of passion.
It's not the chill of fear.
But it is thrilling,
It is chilling
As it courses down my spine,
It is lightning,
And I'm frozen
And fixated on a cheek,
But then he turns
And I can breathe
As I can see
That it's not you,
So I don't need
To find my feet
And be electrifying too.
sometimes you’re not here
and that’s okay
there’s just that little bit more bed
that little bit more darkness
that little bit more silence
it’s not that i’m dependent
it’s just
have i always been this weary?
it’s just
sleep is a companion of sorts
my room is a dimly lit womb
of blue light and distractions
a loaf of bread rests on your pillow
a poor substitute
the darkness weighs on my shoulders
draws me down to rest
then tells me i am lazy
the darkness clamours for solitude
draws me from the noise
then tells me i am lonely
it’s not that i am drowning
as the blackness oozes
it's just
i am re
dark nights and darker heart by JenOfAllTrades94, literature
Literature
dark nights and darker heart
It's 1am and you're not here.
I'm clinging to your tshirt
with your secrets locked away
and I'm waiting for a text
that you won't send.
It's 2am and I can't sleep.
The sheets are cold,
my pillow's damp
and my mascara's all on pages
where I wrote my revelations.
It's 3am and I can't breathe.
My arms are wrapped around me,
trying to hold it all together
but only your arms
will do.
It's 4am and I just need you to tell me
I've been wrong and it's just me
you want beside you
and when you look in my eyes
it's not her you want to see.
It's 5am and I can't keep crying.
My pain is slowly turning into anger
and I just want you
to see me
and
Deck the Dark in Garlands by JenOfAllTrades94, literature
Literature
Deck the Dark in Garlands
Smiles
and crushing
heartache
Entwined so smooth
and tightly
It's like they never were
apart
And so the blackness
bears a grin
As I deck the dark
in garlands
And my grief
sounds
just like
joy.
I still recall, with perfect clarity,
your blazing eyes on mine
and your tongue's
lazy stroll
over my undulant lips.
Each time I think of it a torch is lit
beneath my ribs
And God knows what would have happened if it hadn't been for timing.
I wasn't in love with a person,
I was falling
for moments
for brief thoughts that were swallowed each time
by doubts and fears,
and disappeared,
but God, they happened.
I've thought about it time and again and have decided this isn't denial.
It is a lengthy process,
a slow burn,
a simmer,
a storing-up
of moments, until finally you can doubt it no longer
and I wasn't finished, but you were
finished.
your work is outstanding! (mainly focusing on poetry) You have your own dark, yet beautiful style and I find it intriguing! would you mind if I borrow your dark night darker hearts poem to put in one of my stories? I will mention you in the "Credits".