Estamos peleando con el tiempo y me gustaría que tuviéramos otro momento. Deseo que habría besar tus manos una vez mas. Un otro lago para nuestro amor. El mundo nos mira y ríe porque esta pasión no es bastante. Quizás que no nadas en lago como yo, quizás que no estamos buscando para el mismo … More De tiempo roto
If Death is the mother of beauty, we were born motherless. … More you still think of me
His arms cradle my neck, so tightly I think this breath may be my last. I don’t squirm though. The comfort, the security of him by my side, that’s better than life. He runs his hands down my body and I let him. But that’s as far as I’ll let him. Do I really know … More Monophobia
My glass of faith has shattered and I–the prisoner of these walls–fall celled into my destruction. He told me that I must believe and later embrace. He spun my thoughts, my guilt, my lust. And when I needed him he came by my side. He bent down and cradled my body. He raised my broke … More Dusting glass
A conflicted heart Beats for you yet Yearns the affection Of another who holds My arm and protects Me against the chance That you and I May no longer be.
I lay alone at night measuring the seconds between creeks of grown walls and those of old wooden floorboards croaking in pain. My eyes scream open as blood rushes to my head, pounding–throbbing as my face tightens in a heated twist and my ears steam from this paranoia. Has he come for me? This night, my last? … More stranger of night
Is it normal, for it to hurt Your chest in pain from the suffocating jabs of abnormal breaths Your ribs pierce with screams of guilt regret and lost love Does your face cherry-up swollen in fear fear of stopping the knived rivers pounding from your eyes If you stop does the real feeling begin? How do … More aftermath
praying to someone who barely exists … More placeholder
Remember the roses their white wisdom waning our loud hearts deafen amongst heated night rains Remember the roses richly red as life he once gave now set ablaze, under the morning light’s wrath Remember the roses vicious and violent the shade of his blood long resting upon the sun Remember the roses … More petals plunge
She shuffles the cards messily, her maturing fingers still in experience with a small slam on the table, she claims her victory. “That’s not how you play” the elderly woman tells her. Her face reddens and her eyes widen with a frown flashing upon her face “Fine!” She screams as every card flutters through the … More A shuffle
