Strings Of Lights And

An icy, hollow bed

Where i lay down to sleep

A coffin as the bedframe

And earth as my sheets

My brother says goodnight to me

My father tucks me in

My mother sings a lullaby

About things that could have been

The world has never looked so gray

Or that is how is seems

As mother whispers in my ear

"Goodnight," she cries, "sweet dreams."

Does the moon feel lonely

When it is all alone

Because nobody is awake

To see it?

The forget-me-nots aren't blooming.

They wither on the sill

No amount of water

Could ressurect them still.

The sunlight shines enough for them,

But all I think to do

Is to let them die right there

Like my relationship with you.

In the shakey moments

Between wake and sleep

I let loose the tears

That I didn’t let you see

They fall upon my pillow

And transform into rust

Reminding me that we

Are nothing more

Than dust

I’ve grown accustomed to the quiet

That lie beyond my door

So it was all the more 

Disquieting

When I heard voices from the floor

I look tenderly at the bluebells

For the first time in a while

I hope they know how well they are doing

How fast they are growing

And how beautiful they've become.

Somewhere deep

In this scaffolding of bones

My heart aches

For love

And the stars

I find that i am tired

Of being tired

And that i am wishing

My wishes would come true

I am constantly praying

That my prayers will be heard

And that i am always writing

About the pain of words

Thoughts on Beauty #4

It is always so beautiful to see a crowd. They are one, made of many. Each person walking to the same rhythm- a heartbeat.

Bum Bum

At first it is quiet. It is the first sign of life, or better yet, a rebirth.

Bum Bum

It has grown louder, echoing through the streets. They are united, they are one.

BUM BUM

It is deafening, the beautiful sound of rebellion and of unity. Many people standing for one purpose, a sign of change.

That is what can change lives, every person rising up for what they believe in, standing tall while they sing. They march to a beat, that heartbeat- now deafening- as a sign of beauty and of something new.

I dreamt of a candle in pale hands

With a crimson flame burning down down down

Wax dripping on soft skin

Too gentle for it's heat

But there was no flinch or falter

Until it melted down to nothing

Leaving only a curl of smoke and scalded flesh

As its legacy

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