Blood.
They trail down the tips of his fingertips to the edges of the tainted plain lace. And it makes her so happy to see his tears flow down from grace. His eyes. They bleed their darkest and retells his desires from Heaven's embrace. The pits of fire welcomes him to its disgrace. How shameful it must be but it makes her happy.
So she's happy with her head dunk down in the well of lost souls and see his eyes wide with happy tears in row.
Happy like the tempest with her knife thrust in your chest and makes your life end in one swift jest.
Her lies resonate in the earliest crest of childhood majesty and her humble jester would lie awake with his eyes open wide, waiting for her to say her ordered string of notes. More and more and everyday he would lie awake waiting for her lips to open and save his mind's clutter from the blood it drips with. But she would lie in her bed of soft petals and curl her fingers up for more, more, more.
More blood.
More suffering.
More him in the silver plate served at supper feast.
And he would cut a piece of his heart and serve it to her well with a grin on his face that says satisfaction. It makes her so fucking happy to see him bleed through his shirt and his hat strewn across the polished marble floor, blood-soaked and torn. His flesh heeded in the wrinkles of weariness and forlorn. But she doesn't care nor does she see through her happiness in seeing him bleed.
For her.
For her.
For her.
His majesty.
His queen.
Labels: jester, love, queen, suicidal, unrequited
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Connected Skins
They were born connected,
Skins stretched and lines adorn,
Their thoughts like a mind of twist,
Their love for each other not for twins,
But for the moon and sun feelings forlorn.
They would continue to play their song,
Even in the midst of blood and tears,
Fingers would sway in tune to the beat,
And the sky would blacken in surrender,
A cursed lullaby for the ears in mourn.
Reflections of night adjourn,
Rays of light rises above the scorned,
Pretty wings unfold and fly away,
Wishes brought to the Heavens,
Wishing they were unrelated.
Let fate sway.
Burden away.
Labels: connected skins, one poem a day, open poetry, poem, poetry
♥ Addy Bee.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Rewind
Why did you talk to me?
I thought you were nice.
Why did we become friends?
I thought you were fun.
Why did you tell me jokes?
You laughed at the silliest ones.
Why did we spend so much time talking?
We used to have a lot to talk about.
Did you know I made songs for you?
You did? I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to hear them.
It made me remember you whenever I sing them.
Does it hurt you? You shouldn't anymore.
I want to.
Why?
I want to tell you.
Why can't you?
I don't want us to stop being like this.
It won't change. I promise.
You told me that before.
I did?
Do you think I'm pretty?
I do... I think.
I laugh because I think you're handsome.
You do? Is it funny?
It makes me smile.
It does?
I'm slowly falling.
Really?
Will you catch me?
I'll think about it.
Do you like me?
Are you worth it?
I wish I never asked.
I wish you never asked.
Are you still there?
I am.
But things changed, didn't they?
Yeah... they did.
Now I wished we never met.
Now I wished those things remained unsaid.
Do you love me?
In reality, I wish we never met.
Labels: love, open poetry, unrequited
♥ Addy Bee.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Rust Feathered Wings
Rust covers their wings,
Steel adorned with future rings,
Feathery strung with wet tears,
Hearts reaches out with deaf ears.
Difference of wishes pass dry lips,
The cold of oblivion creases their skins,
She was open and loved,
And she hungers for his touch,
But he can only love her without heat that radiates.
Without love that can penetrate.
He was cursed eternal,
Like Nicholas in Night Perpetual,
Day by day freedom escapes their grasp,
She would tell him she loved him,
She would wish that moment would forever last.
Hold on to the future and forget the hurtful past.
Heaven and Hell are always apart,
Cries of passion senses their brand new start,
Even as his body disintegrates away into dust,
Their eyes last would meet in a chain of lust.
Cry.
He would say as he takes his last breath away,
And he would be there in her eyes,
Remember what was yesterday,
Tell me what you dream of today.
And we'll love each other in harmony.
Even if I fly with my broken wings far away.
Labels: angels, broken, future, one poem a day, past, poem, poetry, wings
♥ Addy Bee.
Grinds...
