the-drowned-poet - Tumblr blog

[the-drowned-poet]

19:45 — 15th June 2018

Austin

Snow like skin

Raven hair

If I did not know better

You would be a fairy tale

A gentle kiss

A peck on the cheek

Your arms over my shoulders

As we walked

It is complex, and simple

Though when around you

It all makes sense.

When around you

The stars align

The tides graze across each other

With a wave of the moon's hand.

They say fairy tales aren't real.

Though if they are not real, why can I feel them. Why can I see that wonder in your eyes, in your smile.

Why do I feel such compassion?

[the-drowned-poet]

17:24 — 13th June 2018

Things

I don't care about the lonely guitar in the corner, awaiting the time my sorrows form a gentle melody.

I do not care for the camera, waiting to capture my memories. Waiting to keep the good ones safe.

I do not care about the consoles, that wait to entertain. For hours on end they fulfil their purpose. Though now they go untouched.

I do not care about these things.

For things, is all they are.

You talk of respect, and yet you do not give it. You call me overdramatic. You say that I lie. Though when a mere few minutes have passed, you pretend I did not speak.

If I am the liar, if I hold no truth, then why do you pretend.

These things, they are taken when you pretend.

I wonder, am I one of these?

Am I just a thing you can throw about, and toy with endlessly. Am I nothing but what they are, meaningless objects made to entertain.

You make excuses.

You call me a liar.

You say I am wrong.

Your actions show me otherwise.

In your eyes, I am just a thing after all.

[the-drowned-poet]

17:12 — 13th June 2018

Blemish

My thoughts are tainted.

Everything you've done,

I'm reminded of it all.

With a simple common phrase

Twisted to suite your needs,

I remember.

The pain still haunts me

Memories come in waves

Weaving through my body

Like a poisoned needle.

These webs you formed over time

They trap me.

In a hold I may never escape

It is the mask that I wear

You crafted it yourself

For you were the one that taught me.

With a single blow

And a few damned words

I am broken.

I am tainted like my thoughts.

I remember everything.

[the-drowned-poet]

18:04 — 8th June 2018

Expression

Those lips

The lips that drove my passion

That spoke when it was asked of them

They whispered words of summer days filled with ripe fruit and scenic views into my skin.

Slightly torn from an anxious mind

When focused they would fold

When your eyes caught my own

They would slip to the side,

Both your lips and your eyes.

Oh your eyes

I could gaze into those eyes until the sun scorched the earth

Though I avoid them

For fear of a creased brow

When my mind wanders.

Those lips

Those eyes

It is a passion I wish to control

Yet I have lost the power to try.

[the-drowned-poet]

17:28 — 6th June 2018

The Thorns that Grow

When I was but a babe, the ground would prick my skin with it’s green thorns. As would all children unaware of their surroundings, I screamed. They would then lose their grip on my frail structure, and henceforth I would be placed into the care of a familiar lap.

Even so, as I grew so did those thorns. Becoming soft as the wind ran through them, like my feet would carry me in the late spring. They were no longer the protruding spikes that I had once known them to be, but where I would learn to find my solace.

No, the uncomfortable prickling was nothing compared with the barrier I had unknowingly formed over time. The cage that when my inner chest were to rupture in the slightest, it would cause my heart to tear.

As I grew in stature and wisdom, the cage grew fond of my organ. The wires became closer and in doing so were constricting.

My heart had, of course, tried to wonder. It would reach out to it’s findings. This meant that the protruding spikes had seeped their way in.

The cage had begun to rip layer by layer off of the muscle she now held in her palm, and I became content with my own misery.

[the-drowned-poet]

17:22 — 6th June 2018

Bloody nightmare

They say that fresh blood is hot.

As hot as a thousand suns.

But when I felt it trickle down her body, the only heat detectable was a spec of warmth. It was but a simple spec, that dragged along her skin.

It took with it all our memories together, as it descended.

I heard a cry, a scream, ripple through the thick air around us.

A siren.

Muffled gunfire.

This wasn't how it was meant to end.

[the-drowned-poet]

17:09 — 6th June 2018

A pit

It is a pit, filled with the jagged rock that is my thoughts.

With each fall they carve their own holes.

Like a knife through flesh.

Some days I am on the edge, peering at the abyss.

Some days I am decorated by their holes.

[the-drowned-poet]

19:09 — 20th May 2018

Fixed luminous points

To lay in a field of grass

Feel it on my skin

Through my clothes

Your hand laying next to mine

Our fingers laced

Gazing at the night sky

I stare at the stars for a time

And am reminded of your eyes

The way you would gaze at me

I would tell you to count the stars

You would say that it would waste our time

I would laugh and agree

Left for a while, I would speak again

"Simply look at the stars, if you will not count them"

Turning your head you peak once more

I would whisper into your ear

"These stars hold the hope I have for us"

You would face me again and reply

"It is the same hope I see in your eyes when you look at me"

My view is replaced by you

Just you

For you are all that is just

In my thoughts, all I ask is that I find someone I can share the stars with.

[the-drowned-poet]

18:56 — 20th May 2018

Bladed Barrage

Physical damage starts as a bruise on your arm, but eventually it finds its way to your heart. However as it gets there you break it down, slowly, to get rid of the pain.

It's different with words. They pierce you straight through the chest. It's like being stabbed with a blade, and the harsher the words, the longer the blade is.

When you get stabbed you have to walk around with it, feel it twisting inside you. The longer you ignore it, the more it hurts.

You get to a point where you have to pull it out or else you will die. When that time comes, you feel the blade dragging through your insides.

It becomes so tiring, but you have to keep pulling.

Each time you pull, you bleed out. So sometimes you let the blade sink back in.

For some, they let themselves be stabbed. In the end it can become too painful. For others, they keep pulling.

My blades have been removed. Though now, new ones are taking form.