Our Failed Sails
We spent late nights, with the journey of conversation. Spilling our thoughts to wild fantasies of our imagination. Casting ideas of beings beyond our earth, thoughts that stars are stories yet to be told. We felt our hearts beat in synchronicity with each kiss, each moment.
Our eyes, flared to the wonders of our souls. Gems we called them, as they glimmered in the reflection of our smiles. Our lips caressed each other, concealing our skin the admiration of loving intoxication. We found ourselves lost in the bliss of each other’s spirit. Like addicts to drugs, we could never get enough. Always wanting more, but never, greedy in the need of the other.
Our fingers laced, waltzing in the dust of the midnight sky. Wandering the late streets, making silly faces beneath the lights of First AVE. Summers were our best, adventure was found at every turn. Seeking the breath taking, views that leaves one grateful for the mere ability to see.
We would embrace each other in the taking of the moment, the view. Holding hands as the sun settled just behind the towering mountains. So small we felt, yet so strong in our love as we looked at the artistry of nature.
Our love was magic, it thrilled us through every second, every hour, every day. Though we had our arguments, we would find peace in the entwining of our arms; holding each other till our tears faded. We were passed the idea of attraction, we were mesmerized. Captured in each other’s heart like blood in our veins, flowing with devotion.
Perfect were we, were you. Music is what you were to me. Never could I truly explain how you made me feel. You had the touch that would melt my heart, leaving me eased in my worries. Always did you know how to lift me when the anchors of my hell would deaden my mind. Each link of the chain, you would be by my side, and I the same.
Your laugh still echoes as I stand at the edge of our favorite place. Our spot, where we looked to the stars, exposing our hearts, our stories, our scars, our smiles, and our dreams. Vulnerable did we become; yet shielded in the love of ourselves and each other.
We were pure, foolproof I say, but somewhere we went wrong. Somewhere a storm took us, and our sails ripped. Losing ourselves to the fog of our minds and falling short to the swimming of our shores. Though this be a tragedy of love, it is our tragedy, and I shall pin it, to the sleeve of my heart.
Thank you for reading! What love still sits in your heart?
There is much more of my words to be read, in the enthralling short stories of,
Like poetry? Or want to contact me?
Popular posts from this blog
A Wanderers Inn I have been traveling for thirty days. My horses are weak and I thirst dearly for water. My belly aches as hunger constricts my gut. I am fearful of death in such an unsuitable way. I have always seen myself dying in daring act of life. Be it in war or the saving of a child. Or maybe, even in the defeat of a dragon as I get one last blow with my blade before it strikes me down and it falls to its death beside me. Feeling its last breath of heat roll over my body as our eyes see only our fading souls. I have always thought my death would be glorious. Yet here I am, traveling alone with no more rations, nor water. My horses no longer walk with fervor but lackadaisical steps. And so I pray to find shelter before the cold takes us. Before the empty plains of barren trees and darkness finds us. I wish not to be detritus before my days. Decaying slowly to the maggots as my body lays helpless upon the earth. Becoming a gruesome vision of what lies inside. B
The Blameful Two The world broke as their hearts bled the shadows of their misery. Seeping upon the world, flooding with the scars of agony. Their eyes trembling beneath the moonlight as their blood stained hands shimmer. Their lips sewn as each is caught in a lie. Both bare, exposed to their duality. Their curtains drawn thus unmasks the bodies they have slain. The skeletons of truth dragged through the spoils of deceit. Each, unwilling to speak. Their cheeks flush in rose petals. Their skin taut to the anxiety of their arrest. They are now the victims of themselves and each the other. Two hell's preached in the underbelly of their weakness. The fraudulent thought in avoidance of pain. And now they stand as nude as the beginning of life, Adam and Eve. Shaking, they are without words. Silent, bearing only tears that fall to the blood soaked floors. The dark whirlpools of hypocrisy. Neither is without sin and neither is without murder. Their souls weep dearly a
The Moles Never Learn I found myself walking in the snow, my head aching with a sharp pain. I feel the back of my head, there is something crusted upon the rear of my skull. I dig my nail carefully into it. I can feel the crust collect beneath my nail like dirt. As my feet trudge through the sixteen inches of snow I look to my nail and there in my nail is blood. Dried cells of my body. Upon seeing this I become confused with worry. I place my hand once again upon my bloodied skull and began to examine it. I slide my index finger like the bristle of a broom, back and forth trying to see what wound had allowed such blood upon me. But after several seconds of feeling about, I find nothing. No scratches, no lacerations, nothing. My worried confusion musters down to mere confusion. I rub my eyes as I am strangely held with a slight daze. As if I have been interrupted from a deep sleep. And the evening air is not helping my situation. I am comfortably wrapped for a day tr