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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. I think I made you up inside my head. -Sylvia Plath I see no reason to rhyme, but an aching heart, stranded in the midst of nothingness, as quill rests in a nameless coffin, like a trembling corpse. Words woven in tears glisten like rain, amidst rustic pages within a book of bleeding ink. While I, the deep darkness, ponder, would the moon ever grieve for the sun, or will she allow waning stars to abandon her doleful realm? As her face shifts and turns through phases of changes- and her soul like the weary winter, withers into white-washed wounds. I am the hazy mirror to a lunar goddess. There shadows betrayed this cruel conscience, roaming within forlorn vales, swirling through a woeful wind, to nocturnal sonatas. My mind nestles like a raven resting at the treetop, calling your name into frozen oblivion, laced in secluded silence, echoing amidst obsidian fears. What would they know of tainted tales, obscured within the mellifluous sound of splitting rain? I am throned to a fallen sky, drizzling thorns and splinters upon bruised toes. Remember, I love you, through dreams and more, stretching my fingers to your silvery spheres. Now your palette of romance paints a blurred portrait of hallowed misery; dreams forgotten with time. There’s no perfect pigment to correct my insomniac frame but metaphors to lure me back to a colorless castle above satanic seas. I’m dancing with demons; as the pain you’ve fed me, rushes through chained chambers. Tonight, the storms may seem calm, like forests awaiting for a trail of redolent rainbows, to flicker upon mourning meadows. Tomorrow, when I slumber six feet beneath breathing fiction, will you rewrite cruel convictions, that stole my purpose to live? Maybe darkness sparkles upon rich rivulets of rippling regrets, so the cosmos would allow the moon to rise and beam brighter than the selfish sun. Let this poem be the last amulet to sorrowful sagas, as I untangle your vines suffocating my final breath, this is the eternal demise— I’m dying before your dead eyes.
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