Leading Her HomeCrimson waves splash across the bow Endless tugging leading her home Dreams rolling like the open sea Such a peaceful place to beLeading Her Home
Oars flash into the storming seas Salt stings wounds, just like tears Lightning booms on a locked door Mermaids' cries leap and soar
Blackness rolling like the open sea Such a peaceful place to be Pirate ships are behind her now Nothing is left but the shadow Crimson waves splash over the bow Endless despair leading her home
Baby's BreathThe musk of dependency wafted through the room, as the dappled light that flitted and danced across the ceiling came to rest on the gleaming white cot next to the window. Everything was sparkling clean; it had to be, for when she came home. After all, she was all that mattered now. It was always awe-inspiring, seeing all the goodness existing in the universe being encapsulated into such a small body. The quiet stillness of the moment was pierced by a quavering wail that stirred her into action. Lifting the infant out of the cot and cuddling her close to her chest, she stroked her hair and when the child was still again, she placed her back doBaby's Breath
The Picture on the WallA scene of dry, barren lands, stretched between us is all that remains of a never quite forgotten memory.The Picture on the Wall
A young man fleeing from every unrequited love, but those, too, were misperceived. He's trying to bury his secrets before they're uncovered, but he didn't dig deep enough first.
The cemetery for pasts that were buried too shallow. A dark painting, and it's etched into my mind. Too many lives are lost among the epitaphs here.
A little girl with inadequate responses that were never quite enough. With shovel
Child, You Make Her Ophelia Child, she had waited a lifetime to feel the sliver of this pain, and you, you gave it to her as your voice rose above screaming silences. (It’s those silences that kill the hopeful, and maim the worthy). And you just entered on this stage, your eyes set on her, singing of lost skies and fallen dreams. Dreams you could have only wished for, dreams you knew she had, and the impact that you two could have made, but to you, her passion was merely a blanched sunset on a bad day. How could you have led her to see the stars as something more than ugly? Lovely, such were yourChild, You Make Her Ophelia
This ColdShe sits there clawing at her ice-pale skin, rocking back and forth, and in and out of yesterday, whispering, “It never used to be this cold. It never used to get this cold. It never used to know how” to painted pictures on her walls. But that, that was before the springs forgot to come, and when trees still knew how to grow. And she never realized this until she no longer swam through your heart, until she found herself drowning in your screams (their silence, such things are imagined). She draws fresh blood, deeply jaded against shaky nails, “This love is so conditional!” And she needsThis Cold
Back Again
Average
~Orion
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zerflin: [link]
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I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may work through me
2 Corinthians 12:9
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Inside your heart, no ones there, and I don't think I'll ever be, and I don't care.
I am a WeCritique critic.
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=lelekelley
~Orion
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zerflin: [link]
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Kel
If so look here: [link]
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`steal my words and i'll stab u with my pencil
[ .boredom.happens. ]
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If i'm an angel,
paint me with black wings.
x my stock [link]
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"RELIGION, n. A daughter of Hope and Fear, explaining to Ignorance the nature of the Unknowable."
-The Devil's Dictionary
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