UntitledThis man, Which makes a mistress of you, Goes by me as silver, Which, though once mirrored,Untitled
Does cloud and tarnish, Under courser time.
Against, my diamond, Brightest still as the cutting-day.
Though its beauty stays hid, As your beauty draws me.
I am in love with you, Though flourished in darkness, And must give instead,
Eternal time and created hope, Can blood, though being false, ever become love.
Dancing on a Leaf in a StreamThe Boy Dancing on a Leaf In A StreamDancing on a Leaf in a Stream
Dancing on a leaf in a stream, Which strange entrances, And glows on the silver water, To jump and fall.
For conscious meaning, has happened, And lacked. At once is nothing, Beauty and craft. So we are lost for words, To see this once, Whose youth made music, To play as he plays.
This mirror thread, Which flies this gentle pleasure, And though he dances still -
Not for me.
The Old Men Of The ForestThe Old Men Of The ForestThe Old Men Of The Forest
Three men once stood here,
Now, I am alone, With the Old Men Of The Forest, Wise and feeble. They shrink to us,
And hold the gates of nature, Against the ram of humanity.
For gift and service, we bring fire, The sythe upon the neck of beauty, In sadistic joy, we play at pain. But, The Old Men Of The Forest stand, Triumph is loss, Breatness id doom, Hold your life and you will surely die. So perish we withall.
Three men once stood here, Now, I am alone.
Love's NameAs rise and fall, the winter's dancing wind, From mounted height, and dropped in deepest dark, These deaths have suffered of friendly content sure, Where chances fade more quick than unkept fire, But grows for him, to hold the unjust love, If named by love, this gross facade decieves. Outshine his lies, outlive this false pretense, This Sun burns out, and takes this earth all with't.Love's Name
You are loved in truth, a heart of mine.
My PianoAn unremarkable object in the corner of the room, Polished wood gleaming in the soft lighting.My Piano
I’m drawn towards it.
Lifting the lid I sit down on the stool, Cushion sighing gently welcoming me back.
Closing my eyes I gather my thoughts… My feelings… My entire being….
I raise my hands in front of me, Placing my fingertips on the smooth keys Feeling the emotions welling up
Growing…
Growing…
Growing…
Until it spills over and flows out of me Fingers danci
Grave.I used to find grave yards so interesting The fact that, each carved name. Has aGrave.
history. Had past. A life.
I used to wonder, try to imagine what their lives were like. Peice their past back together again.
I've never been a stranger to a graveyard. My grans been taking me since i was small. To visit family memebers i never actualy knew alive.
I feel at home there almost. Strange as it may sound. Its so peaceful there. No one
to shout at you. Or judge everything you do.
Funny. How i was so interessted in graveyards. When now, just loo
Tell Him“Tell him!” they shout, “Tell him!”Tell Him
They gather around me
Eyes and language full of good intentions Yet I can’t, No matter how much my mind shouts along with them
How can I tell him? He won’t want me…..will he?
“You won’t know if you don’t ask”, they say
But yet that single seed of self doubt is enough, Its taken root now Long vines bursting forth from the ground, Ensnaring me
I can’t tell him I can’t……can I?
With that thought a beam of light a
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Ahoy!
I love you.
Now let's go drink rum and look at my gallery.
thankyou for the favourite
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Love Is The Slowest Form Of Suicide.
Hi, it's Bex.
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I'll be there for you through it all.
Even if saving you sends me to heaven.
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