Erase All The LinesI write for you yet you do not existErase All The Lines6 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I reach for you yet I only find a clenched fist
I can only produce a fantasy, only a fragment of desire
Found only in the ashes of this ever consuming fire
I look for a silhouette; A body beyond these pages
Yet it's always lost within these words, mingled with unfamiliar faces
I look for that sparkle; A glimmer of life
A desired effect not plagued by strife.
Were you merely an illusion?
A concoction of hope, envy, and confusion?
Were you the chaos of a tortured mind?
A figment of my imagination? A place for my sanity to hide?
You were my beautiful lie; An envious escape
Yet with this ink; you were unable to take shape
Upon these pages I'll erase every line!
Writing to the spectre that I'll never be able to find
FW: Chilly Night? Hold My HandIan and Clay finally were done studying at the library, Clay decided to walk Ian back to his house together, to make sure he was safe. Ian rubbed his hands together occasionally blowing hot air on them. “It’s really chilly.” Ian shook and moved closer to Clay. He smiled and wrapped an arm around him.FW: Chilly Night? Hold My Hand1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Don’t worry Ian, I’ll keep you warm.” His hands were really warm, which made it a little better. “You forgot your gloves at home didn’t you?” He smirked, Ian pouted with a nod.
“Yea... I was baking last night and left them out, and didn’t grab them this morning...” Clay just smiled at him. “Don’t mock me!”
“I’m not mocking you, Ian, here.” He held out his hand for him to hold instead. Ian grabbed it faster than he’s ever grabbed for cake.
“...Why are they so warm?” His face blushed, he could feel his heart beat in his throat.
“Pocket warmers, and being
A Lump of ClayLife is a lump of clayA Lump of Clay4 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
It yurns for creative hands to shape
Whoever it chooses greatness follows
While others more deserving are left with only the dust
The optimist creates a kitten
playing with a ball of yarn,
The pessimist creates a fallen angel,
Broken and torn,
The cynic creates himself
And nothing else,
While the realist creates a bowl
To help shape the world
But be careful what you create
And how much time you take
For if you linger and don't work your fingers
Your clay will dry away.
Clay to HealI threw some clay on the woundClay to Heal5 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
hope it'd heal and pretty soon
because I don't have time to deal with you
Fire and clay converse of these thingsSitting alone in the night with my jinnFire and clay converse of these things4 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
between three and me
the many painted hours pass and we converse of many things
whose to say who was lying, or who was reading
it is not likely that I could see the burning fire
but I can feel the presence of these beings
here the whispers
feel the blinks
“if only you could see
like the jinn
who know these things”
I have scared her
I have bled many things
if only I was not real
if only I was a dream
“so it is death you wish to comprehend
yet life to you is such a mystery.
I am afraid you are not welcome amongst the burning fire
but do not worry
I have already met thee.
You did not remember
you still do not see
but what you lack in comprehension
you make up in error
Do not fear
this journey will one day be over
and every step you make brings you closer to me.”
and so I ask
“is it true?
That this life's trials are meant to destroy hopes of reality?
Is it wise