Ah, the images you send me they pull back the absent sun though it’s nearly witching hour I envy the tree that looks over your shoulder, secretly sharing your secrets. Now I know I must not fear any more strange cold breaths from shadows, it’s just you blowing kisses, across oceans, to land on my poor flaking cheek. I thank the gods for a muse like you. My words need not ever die.
Relentless rain falling softly on mindless stones soak more than surface drain with yourself my stare and the skin I’ve chewed ‘til old, bury us all deep where pain isn’t found let us sleep and rest but miss not to tuck a grain of promise that the sun may find us healed and grown beautifully through rooted scars
Damn you and the way you kiss with barely parted lips planted perfectly on the contours of my trembling pair, each line on your eager mouth a verse my tongue can read though not touching, the yearning feeds rhythmically with your exhale contained, calculated and released without you realising the fire you rage within, curse you and your propriety lost in one thoughtless peck gained back by recalling grace two steps away, away from the hunger down my throat you’ve left, and may all hells take you for braving only that I deserve more than embers you should’ve left me as nought but ash
What have you done to me? A sharp gaze quick as a bolt left me unnerved on the string, quivering shedding all skins that may have sheltered me, fooled anyone for stone that within was hollow for air to frolic in, t’was last night yet the darkness has been infinite haunting me as soft hands with the ghost of your irises, the ocean on a waking day, gray yet its cobalt depths I can barely wait to pierce me once again, and again, and again, and your lips, only but a pear away stood there waiting, with their own eyes on mine, restrained, if only I hadn’t been afraid if only I had claimed their taste if only your face was not miles of memories away still vivid, as I am now, with the light of day, what have you done to me? wrecked so beautifully, within a carcass of flaming rain…
My depression is like the ocean. It comes in waves, but even if I’m not being pulled under and suffocated I’m still struggling to keep my head above water. Each wave takes with it the hope of ever getting out.