the moonlight slides into the room
i carve your name with it onto my skin
on my eyelids so i only see you as with every blink
onto my tongue so all of my words are always for you
it rained razors, a torrent of rusted blades, he sat in a field, bared to the storm, rivulets of blood running down his smiling face, serenity flowing in waves, no sign of the agony he must feel
i spun a needle with your voice
piercing my eardrums with your lilting tones
your smile a crimson and ivory brand
in which i forever seal my lips on yours
lightning struck the pane of glass, a whirlwind of glass enveloped the room, shredding and tearing all in it’s wake, she sat on the floor amidst the chaos untouched as the room around her was destroyed
Is there a thing called high fantasy poetry fatigue? Your writing pieces are just so so good that my brain some times is incapable of digesting one after another brilliancy.
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what an absolutely lovely comment.
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This is utterly beautiful.
You have no fear with your poetry, my favorite kind of poet
“It’s arduous to love a poet, but how can you not”
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thank you. same sees same
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