Leftinblasphemy - Fₗₒwₑᵣ

She was a careful soul

that no one really took

and her hands wanted more

than just happiness behind

a dark frame ;

incapable of speaking

she lets the waves

kiss her skin ,

and trap her inside her veins ;

till she feels colder ,

lower , damaged ,

till her eyes no longer flicker. .

-t.f.s.

The Poet Beyond

I’m sorry I’m not a poet

Though I masquerade; I flow it

My pen moves too often when it is not my hand.

Indeed it is my fingers, but those lines were not my land.

There is a writer, beyond my view.

And they supply me with poems that are new.

I wish to pen, wish to spill

But my mind sits empty, despite my will.

And in moments as such, when I have the need, but not the ink

The Poet beyond my eyes offers me his drink.

And so he lets me steal from him a rhyme or two

In hopes it unlocks one of mine, in time, or a few.

But often I walk away with the whole work, and he knows it.

Because though I may want to be, I’m sorry, I’m not a poet.

Part of me liked part of you

just because there was nobody

to like you like that too.

-t.f.s.

This deserves appreciation.♡

The fluency at which my mind thinks is blinding.

It's not surprising that tears form in the droop of my eyelids.

Every thought leads to another thats more detrimental than the last and it fuels the idea that my life's in a crisis.

Deep breaths. Leave stress behind and seek comfort in the warmth of the light.

What light?

The light that was shined in my face by my faith till it burnt my retinas and I felt like a slave?

Or the light that is promised when you behave and obey your time away and still end up laying in waste?

Say grace.

hold on, my love, and i will hold onto you - n.l

I wouldn't waste my time if It wasn't you. But my mind is a rage I'm using to destruct every part of people skin and cut their words that come from their mouths. And I hope they don't know I ate their thoughts for lunch.

-t.f.s.

Senryū IV

In the meadow field

love is outermost to call ,

distant in time's truce .

-t.f.s.

" I'd balance your body

Like holding a guitar,

And I'd gently play on strings

Just like I gently caress your skin. "

-t.f.s.

“I can’t change where I come from or what I’ve been through, so why should I be ashamed of what makes me, me?”

— Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

Will is not broken

Even through darkness

Through hallways of death,

Through rage and pain,

Sickness in vain ,

It is easier to open a door

rather than unleash fears.

-t.f.s.