silently-written

[silently-written]

Concept

When your soul is pure, but hardens over time. Is it strength? Is it bitterness?

There is someone who had once smiled serenely, now reappearing before the people who looked for her, her arms wrapped around a lone figure.

They ask her of her whereabouts. She replies, "With him."

And they turn to this figure. This man radiated danger like an aura, and not as mere weak kindling, but to the likeness of an inferno straight from hell. 

[silently-written]

What more am I to you than shackled in my orange jumpsuit,

Remembering the glow of orange sunsets that live only inside my head,

But doesn’t let me breathe that same freedom?

Orange is the symbol of something meant to burn bright, but not warm.

It reminds me of the entrapment of love.

[silently-written]

"I wouldn't die for you." I would say. And she would look away, out in the sunset, the subtle light glistening against her face, making her look like a glowing angel in a sea of darkness. 

She would look away and say, "I know."

[silently-written]

the monotony of a life barely lived.

buried deep in pages with stories within.

[silently-written]

Starcrossed Lovers Make Supernovas (Asterism)

Strike. 

Strike.

Strike. 

Quick gasp. Jump. A need to run.

The flash of light whizzes almost right next to you, and you hiss a little, heat scorching quickly under your skin like an accidental papercut. 

Pound. 

Shake.

Shwoom. 

The almost pinkish tinge seems to exist as if to blush from your attention. You know better than that, though. It’ll need something cold. You’ll need to be more careful in the future. 

Plop. 

Plop. 

Plopploplopplopplopplopplopplopplop.

It still continues on. Sky overcast with a gloom almost comparable to yours, while maintaining some spark under its depths. 

It is so late. 

Gulp. 

A quick rub for the eyes carrying a heavy load. 

Almost rapid puffs of breath in an almost mocking ha-ha-ha. 

You close your eyes, turning away from the curtain above. 

There are no stars today. 

[silently-written]

A sweet symphony for all of the masses She sings it thus for those tossed as ashes. Softly crooning for their departure She hopes they waste away in the shelves which they sundered.

Revenge she sought and clamoured toward with glee She was Heaven-sent to write cursed poetry.

[silently-written]

moonbeam. 

small and petite. 

shining in splendour. 

so happy with its peace. 

[silently-written]

where the red of dawn meets a glassy river tainting it with hues like ink on a canvas i sew needles and poke threads until insides become out and i'm torn to shreds

coated tongues of slanderous woos coveting slanders and weights ado

i just didn't want to say that everything was true. there is no blindfold for the truth to pursue. i only hope i can forgive what i should not have heard.

i only hope that i pay the price for my own foolish, foolish words.

[silently-written]

my path's going to cost me a lot

my family my friends and my failure of a heart

why is it that in a single moment i am fond to remember the faces and the people in which i dearly love (yet feel like ive already lost)

[silently-written]

in matrimony, we separate

In sickness and in health,

I swear to you, my dear,

that I will love you forever

until the end of my years.

I will take your fragile heart

and cover it with my tears.

My glass is filled with a goblet of your blood

from all of your darkest fears

manifested into a fountain

bringing forth the opposite of laughter and cheer.

Yes, I can swoon for you, 

my dearing, darling lover

because I baked for you

and fed you

and held you like no other.

[silently-written]

what are you running from?

what are you staying for?

these are the questions which I adore

darkness and mayhem 

in that little brain of yours

is all that i live for.

‘cause you don’t know it yet.

you’re so transparent.

and i sure won’t say it yet. 

if you were to ask don’t fault me when i say that

the truth was always there in your head

[silently-written]

I like fantasy but I don't want it anymore.

I don't want ideals or romanticized words.

I want my reality and I want to be real.

[silently-written]

i love you so much it's killing me

i love you

i love you

i love you

like it's a prayer

like it'll give me salvation.

i love you

i love you 

i love you

until the ends of time

until the world finally burns.

i love you

i love you 

i love

how much i can't leave you

how much i will never want to forget you.

i love you

i love you

i love you

and i don't know how i can come back

and i don't know what to fucking do.

i love you

i love you

i love you

let me be by your side

let me love you, even if way too far away.

i love you

i love you 

i love you

which is why my tears want to spill

which is why i don't want to die without you.

i love you

i love you

i love

the freedom loving you has given me

the heart that is allowed to finally fucking thrive.

[silently-written]

i don't want to keep wanting you (can i tell you so you can finally tell me off?)

You drip water like a faucet,

You cling to your hair and twirl it into knots,

Bite your lip and pace like a maniac.

And for what?

For who?

You replay the words in your head as if they were a memory (and not the conjurations of your delicate, fragile mind):

“What if I told you I like you?” “What if I told you that I can’t stop coming back to you?” “What if I told you I’d [do anything] if it means just one night, just one day to hold you?” “God, I don’t want to keep wanting you. So just tell me you don’t like me, tell me you don’t want me, tell me you hate me, tell me I disgusted you, because I can’t-can’t be fragile like this anymore.” “And if I told you I’d be with you?” “...”  Then all the ideas of where things could go wrong will spring in my head. Of all the moments I forcibly pushed, and pushed away, listening and listening about someone else who you'd rather spend your day…  Of being the sole reason we didn’t have time. But I wasn’t ready, so when will I ever be? “Are you in love with me?” “How can I tell if I don’t even have a chance?”

[silently-written]

I'm so scared but so elated on the idea of…

Being in love

Or loving someone

(And caring just that little bit)

Still nervous and I don't know why

But I'll hold my heart and how it strengthens me in my lowest of times 

(Keep beating keep beating keep beating

It's not the end.

Not yet.)

[silently-written]

you remind me of bitter sweetness on my tongue

you surround me and make me want to run

you frighten and capture your hold on me

you bring me down and captivate me into submission

scare me, scare me forever

how i would be destroyed by your hands

walking in circles and never getting out

(like a neverending jolt through my spine, I am paralyzed with fear, with warmth, with a dull, thumping pain resounding, and I know where I go, and I know where I will lay, and I am here, eternally afraid of you)

[silently-written]

Horror. Real or Fictional? And does it matter, when it scares me all the same?

It's bloody, is what it is.

There's blood stains on the carpet and loose quarters in your pockets.

You're wearing denim on denim like it's the mid-2000's.

What's chic if not for the red that adorns your face? Your hair? Your smile?

And I sheepishly confess to the revelation that is knowing I'll never see you smile again.

Because horror upon horror is like block mounting block,

Where hills are too high and all I see you do is-

Well.

I want to hear you scream about all that is red.

And in my dreams, in my head, I can see it, feel it, akin with dread.

You're covered and you've been taken.

You've been slaughtered and maimed.

No amount of justice in the world. No amount of money in this world. None of it can save you.

Yet I wanted to.

BUT THE CRUMBLING ASHES WERE MINE AND MINE ALONE. ETCHED INTO MY MIND A DETERMINATION MADE IN STONE. BURNED IN FIRE LIKE EXCALIBUR, BUT BROUGHT FROM THE ENDLESS EMBERS THAT HELL RECLAIMED. ANGER AND VENGEANCE WOULDN'T EVER HEAL ME FROM THIS PAIN.

When fires die out, so does my breathing too.

It rests in my bones.

I kind of hate it, I do.