Forgiveness/Freedom

so she trembles at the candle light, hoping for relief at the sight of the bright beauty it emanates. feeling relentlessly cold at the surface skin shivering at the sight of thoughts, which permeate the soul saturating the aura with holes.

the icy wind howls at the window sill, as if to plead for acceptance and embrace while the rain knocks on the frosted glass. pupils dilated with the darkness encompassing the proximity of the room she built with her heart.

the melancholic sounds waves being spread into the air by the gramophone completes the scene in which she depicts from the depths of her imaginations. colouring the empty spaces with what little dreams she conjures through the chaos of nightmares that has been imposed on her.

she picks up the pencil that has been ridden with bite marks and slowly draws lines. lines which gradually appear to be words. and words slowly put together to form the sentence which bores her skull with passion.

forgiveness, is right where you faltered.

-

she tears the piece of paper and blows it from her palms to watch them gracefully float onto the wooden floor. in this, she sees the enlightenment of herself, and with this she feels the freedom within the solitude.

overwhelming love is only a mark of being humane; and with this, she exhales the hurt and begins to tear. tears filled with loss and hate and frustration.

as dawn in the distance breaks, her face denied of perfection before, is now with seen with closed eyes, and the hint of a smile at her luscious lips. the ice melting on the windows lets in a streak of sunlight. the torn pieces of paper, now together again, read,

you are free.

Bloodlines/Saviour.

so the sketching is incomplete by the artist. she dawdles purposefully, aiding her hope for procrastination, leaving responsibility to linger on into the echo. Gazing upon damaged recollections with slight affection, to console the guilt.

maimed and cursed at for the inadequacy. yet playfully, she toys with their minds fully aware of the power and influence the unfinished product possesses. gracefully, she carves over the previously healed wounds.

blood trickles down her freshly cut wound on her bottom lip. she kisses the blade and slashes the canvas, leaving trails of blood. to no ones' astonishment, it spells out her desire. she lies there like a crumpled heap wearily, the warm taste lingering in her mouth.

despite the overwhelming feeling of loneliness and fear, the self confidence never leaves the realm, where her limitless potential is conjured. as she stands up gaining composure, she grabs the merciless blade; blood visibly dried upon its surface, and plunges it through her palm.

shrills of her voice is heard throughout the spatial volume that surrounds her. and yet she screams not in pain, but to realise that the time for her penance is at an end.

she draws the blade from its flesh encompassed home, and throws it towards the wall where it fastens itself. the blood trails paints the concrete wall leaving lines that represent the now severed veins that gush life. with this, she takes her brush, touching it on the trails, attempts to finish the portrait.

-

plagued by disturbed dreams, she arose as my saviour. while i remain the prince of desolute decadence and decay.

yet she is left in peace not, for she is chained down to prevent my release from my pandemonium of pain. she looks upon me for hope, yet i cannot provide so.

for i have the barriers of many. i tear at my own flesh to seek what i believe i am to possess.

she reaches out to me with ease, yet my hands are weighed down by the weight of millions, of thoughts and desires. i look to redeem myself in her presence, but am prevented by the devil, within me.

release me!

make me re live those moments. await my arrival. i will not leave.

in the rattles of the endless darkness, there is not life, but her.

Take my hand.

and then there was one
who held hands and loved touch
stroked ear lobes to calm
stood shoulder to shoulder

and then there was one
who kissed with pleasure
who touched lips just to feel home
palms on shoulder blades to eliminate proximity

and then there was one
who sat from afar intent on watching
intimidated by the meeting of eyes
sketching a beautiful picture in time

and then there was one
who spoke outwardly, inwardly
studying her feet for an escape
while a musical played in her mind

and then there was one
who moulded into art itself
abstract of a perfectionist in action
yet remained oblivious to the other

and then there was one
whose mirror was imminent and essential
playing to even the little details of self indulgence
and claimed we, and meant i

and then there was her
who killed me with passion
who brought colour and beauty in speech
who loved with no limits
who kissed with love and touched with love
who lay beside me with no qualms
who perfected the art of talking, without words
who bit by bit tore away at my mind
who invaded personal space relentlessly
who guided the light towards me
who perturbs me infinitely

who aided me to transcend

who willingly danced me to euphoria.

now,

take my hand.

Lost.

vile is her exterior
she shows to all
creeping to frighten
yet ever so demure

festing black debris surround her
pale white skin plays down her pretty
countenance of peace she emits
life of disarray and cold

deserted life and alleyway
her sanctuary of absent friends and family
oblivious, but purposefully, she is to the defect
it's obvious nothing is left

cul de sac are her eyes

lost in the serenity of her touch
lost in the song of her lullaby
lost in the calming of her lips
lost in the eternal peace of her desirable mind
lost in the alley, shes created.

lost.

in the alley, that created her.

Absolution.

her hands firmly clasped against it
green stalk signifying the age
the inevitable moment arrives
as her blood trickles down her knuckles

painting the petals with her own
words going astray in time
amused she is with it
as the drops of dew dilute

i cup my hands in exasperation
saving every drop from contamination
they hit my palm a lighter shade
my tears reaching them as they do

it is as if she willfully paints my tears
smiling at my thoughtful frown
offering me existence unto her
inviting my mortal sin, of being

she eases the grasp on the stalk
as she eases her grasp on the sinner
she takes a step backwards as she smiles
and leaves me haunted by her

you stay kneeling on the dry ground
puddle of life in palms of thy hands
lost in the rippling of the moment
painting, once again, the path for another

she will remain timeless

the penance will be brought upon

beg the ground she treads upon,

for absolution.