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Suffering in the rain, while dancing under the stars. I know light will break through; that light will cast a shadow, but shadows give shade on a hot summer day, so I'll stand in that light and let the shadows fall. Love in the light and love in the dark, knowing both will come and go. The little stars twinkling in the sky, reminding me how alone we are in this cold, vast ocean makes love harder in darkness and light, knowing forever isn't coming and now is all we have—now is everything we have, and in the presence of now, I don't feel so alone. Rain pours and stars shine, as Now wraps a scarf around my neck, and in the midst of suffering, we dance on together.

red burning stars and sentinel trees a dance to the night; a desperate plea datura flowers and mycellium surround the altar of love, perched on the ground an open heart weeps beneath bloody moon come find your end here, not one moment too soon the deep velvet night is the bedchamber of peace- I come here to love; I come here to sleep

i. we dance on the corpses of yesterday like scavenger birds, picking the bloodied morsels and tearing the pain of the past out of them. ii. you told me. that. my darkness is beautiful my scattered moods, my black soul and my starless heart I wanted to hungrily drink the words from your lips like I drink liquid spine of my witchborn gods. iii. cloudy shade above us sparkly night in our veins like made of black diamonds and dripping briars. iv. how often i climb on this mountain to see my sins under its feet and you, ignoring them, seeing only the glossy peak. v. I called for spring; lush and dangerous with storms washing my spirit with healing waves it really came, like pleasure from millions strokes applied where I feel most.

A sorry caution "Sorry" can be overused, lose its meaning. Be abused. Not said with real and true intention. As if just mumbled in passing mention. Not honestly felt and with heart. When excuse-invention, is the art. Yet a sorrow show of regret and meaningful apology, can also sound and receive like marvellous melody. Ease the pain and not in vain. Make close again friends, and make amends. It is in that sense like a flame or flare, caution, please: handle with care. Updated, Edited and written by Piezometric Poetry on 09-06-2023 Poem artwork

She carries her heart like a house with too many doors, each one breathing softly when she passes.   Some rooms are filled with light that hurts her eyes, others are locked with names she no longer speaks aloud.   Her thoughts move like water on glass— never still, never choosing a direction, always slipping away from her hands.   She tells herself to be calm, but the words fall apart before they reach her chest, like instructions written in smoke.   At night, she listens to her own silence, heavy, crowded, unfinished, and wonders which feeling is truly hers and which one has simply learned her shape.

I thought I loved only to realize, I haven't hated, until I did. Then, it was all the same to me. Love and hate. Actually, I would've preferred it if you sincerely hated me. At least in one way, I would've been sure how sincere the feelings were. With love, you just never know...the amount, strength, durability. Hate, however, is timeless, endless, once you start hating on something, someone, it never truly goes away. You either hate them, that, all the time or you swallow the hate and turn a bit more bitter each time you do so. Each time, you become a bit worse of a person than you used to be, than you remember yourself to be. Eventually, by hating them and that, you start hating yourself. After that, no amount of love, from them and that can help you. Not even your love can help you, your love towards the world and yourself. You're ruined. So, when you ask me, again and if you do ask me, what's stronger, love or hate, know that once I've loved every creation of this world only to get

I was born with a silver tongue, Copper eyes and a gold heart. A grain of salt in my head and skin of obsidian. The silver has tarnished, But it stays slick with lies told , And untold. And retold. My lips seem bruised and discolored, poisoned by the silver within. The copper has oxidized, Turning blues and greens under the force of the salt water of my tears. And all the strife they have seen. The golden heart starts soft and pure Shining in the sunlight. But it is soft. Malleable All too soon it is dented. And pieces taken. It is better known as Fool's Gold, When it glints in the light to attract another. The grain of salt becomes a pearl that is my brain. Over time it shall mold Rolled within my cavity, an irritant until it is beholden as some fantastic beauty of nature. My skin is obsidian. Beautiful and Smooth Shattering off with any amount of force, Sharply cutting to those that try to touch me wrong. I am a treasure trove, Of precious metals and beautiful things. I may

I'm no one now. I found myself after being awful enough, after leaving enough messages to beg, after making sure they had found my body - I'm no one now. I found myself after being burned and set alight, after not eating enough, after being hit by a truck. I found myself, stepping out and facing a world I never wanted to see. with some comfort in my heart they asked me what I wanted to do, and I said I want to feel in a world I was never meant for. I want to be the one to put myself in their shoes, to look through their eyes - the cold that this life leaves us is an empty bookshelf I never wanted to see. having been broken, after not looking at the shape of the hole in me, I found myself - spinning in my own blood, feeling alone on a street. the music finally left as I tried to make sense of what was happening, and I found myself in a room full of ashes, being put back together without them, and recognizing that I was never alone when I should have

Every day it feels like I learn something new about writing a delicate art that I might never master in its entirety or become as proficient at as the skilled wordsmiths— who have forever laid down their tools of expression or who even now bring ideas alive through various mediums I have heard of the need to polish written words as if it each line were rough minerals found in the earth then tempered into a shimmery sheen by tumbler methods (a beautiful metaphoric vision) but from my experience the process it is also like trimming awkward branches from enormous trees for healthier results and greater growth The words need to flow like a forest stream trickling along with enough ease for readers to follow and have many scenic spots at

Faded shades of wilted light, never to be those things dreamt or seen. Without a cause, night descends into a mist meant   to confuse and break. Alone, the dark begins to tremble in fear. Not said, but is known in an odd way. A symbol   recorded and held up high, to be some divinity. What fate awaits the bonsai? Surely some affinity   to that gloomy hand must take all away in their due time. Yet, so many words are fake, and where gold shines, just a dime   lies. Without the stars, none sing on. For all things wilt and end by that flame of crystal spring daring never to be. Bend   or break, what becomes your heart only you make. Part with tide to ride the line. Descartes said, I think, therefore, I lied.

Memories long past hiding between pages of a heart, words written in dust and patchouli. Faded shadows beckon the light A truth shined upon all things done in privy which sought out the cracks; and like the rain, seeped in flowing with gravity's pull... flooding the path most surely to be taken ( If not for the light. ) ill natured specimen springing forth of the ground petrichor scented hidden of all malice within its sweet perfume; O beautiful flower always (meant) to be Strangling on the weeds of your true identity. Facades labyrinth floral le ciel the opaque beauty of an artificial flower

I did all the things a Mother should do I listened and walked the path of patience and understanding I faced my fears against all odds while stretching myself thin for the sake of my child and I would do it all over again But one thing I can't do again is pretend to be someone I am not within your chapel A chapel that never accepted me for who I was in the first place --- You can take away what you don't understand but don't presume to think I will be forgotten

flowers painted white ghastly faces looking at us from the depths of the darkened room witnesses of your betrayal petals fighting for breath, under thick pallid cobwebs spiders under your skin, feeding on your deception blood in the walls wails, tattered drapes whisper your name your eyes like shattered mirrors gushing with salty water - pools of poison and bitter wine you drown in the sea of white flowers suffocated by thorns, swallowed by hungry angels

I'm so sorry I'm a monster I never intended to be But it's either this or that And I can't take that It'd eat me up and force me to see It tear into my ribcage and turn it inside out Its screams would be so deafeningly fierce My brain would seep out of my ears I'd be left barely alive but just about To be consumed by what I couldn't dare to keep And drowned in the water I'm in way too deep That comes from the light Sight of which leaves me blind But this comes from the dark And the dark doesn't hurt my eyes That would kill me But this wouldn't It'd kill everything but myself It'll drive everyone else away To save them from the freezing hole that held All that was left of my once fresh heart This knows how to handle a heartbreak So a person can survive awake A human can survive anything And it'd do anything to survive Even be the monster that rips out their own heart It'd do anything Anything to survive

I loved your story which helped me when life got rough— thanks for writing it

She only finds it In the darkest hour, The one that came before The one that comes before The dawn. It is quiet, And still, rabbit to her hare. Fox to the wolf. She has to catch it Quickly, she has to bribe it Steadily, gentle-long rain. She and it are a pair of contradictions That have chased each other for ten years And only now does she see it, New as it is Every time. She is gracious as she pulls back her sheets, Invites it in. Even as it slobbers over her pillow She gives it warm milk And tucks it in.