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Best Poems Written by Aubrey Asylum

Below are the all-time best Aubrey Asylum poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Wine Tears

Gentle fingers traced the firm jaw as she gazes into his eyes

They draw closer to share a breath as their hearts beat as one

His grip on her shoulder is firm, as he strokes her delicate skin

Her eyes are dark and burning, her heart yearning for more.

(Damned)

She has her back against the wall, staring lifelessly at nothing

The smooth mane of black trenches falls across her cheek

As she bends her head to inevitable defeat

Her ivory skin is burning to the touch, she’s thinking of home.

(Gone)

The tears fall red against her pale skin, like blood

She’s plotting revenge, sitting quietly like a porcelain doll

Face stoic and wine tears falling from artic eyes

Trailing down like her bleeding heart.

(Crying)

She holds him, trying to force him to look at her

He closes his eyes, he reminisces as he holds her

He can hear her heart drowning, his shin rests on her head

Before he pushes her back and turns away.

(Screaming)

She watched him through those dark, burning eyes

She’s holding the cool metal against her hot skin, and it don’t feel nice

She’s crying, and screaming, and running and falling, and drowning and burning,

And twin trails of wine tears follow in her wake.

(Fighting)

The tears fall red against her pale skin like blood

She’s plotting her revenge, sitting quietly

As she bends her head to the sudden defeat

Her ivory skin is burning to the touch, she’s thinking of home,

(Leaving)

She watched him through those dark, burning eyes

She’s holding the cool metal against her hot skin, and it don’t feel nice

She’s thinking of a life left behind

She’s gone.

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Fallen

Fallen through the twisted tangled web of lies, we hope to emerge and breath,

though our breath flees us quickly and we suffocate soundlessly in the dark,

and our lives are forever tossed through the green unpredictable hands of fate,

and the clear white hands of time,

and this shallow heart imitates and beat, waiting for this false pulse to be 
released.




And the song remains of a broken past echoes upon the breeze to sing with my 
flute,

my broken flute with gentle falling memories, and a final good-bye;

it fogs my vision as I move to fly forward, and this chain binds my continuously to 
the wall,

this high cornerstone wall that keeps my screams of injustice from being heard,

and the tears from being seen.




Lies keep me from being touched from a gentle caress to a lover’s embrace,

I moan and touch myself; my cheek, my arm, to warm myself against reality’s 
cold, harsh, wind, my eyes glazed over in blindness I fumble through the dark in 
an attempt to feel you next to me,

I have no soul; it was sucked from my body that day, and taken through the wrath 
of hell,

and then only then did I feel warmth.




Last time I dreamed I heard your soft voice beckoning from this hell hole I call 
home,

my blood continues to drip upon the ground, I frown, because I know that the 
same fate will befall me,

and I no longer see as twin trails of crystal tears fall to join crimson,

only the bold sapphire eyes that you have.




Evanesce evening has come again, the thin remains of sunlight descend 
through my window,

And touches my pale skin, and absorbs into the cold shelter of my body, 
surrounded by the cool strange mist, of lies and deceit, the promise of lives 
rotting, they all lay scared, abandoned,
and forgotten....

along with the freedom of my heart.




Never again shall I remain here, I’m yanking at this chain, trying to run from the 
dark fingers stretching out to me, pale and cold…

and the face within the shadows so familiar, I feel so helpless now that I see that 
it is me,

I gently bend down and look at myself, as the cold hand grabs my chain,

Yanking it until I am released, but still brusque of my wings, I stay…

Fallen.

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Headphone Vixen

Music thumps and echoes in her head,

She recognizes the rhythmic style, the harmony, the lyrics echoed upon her walls,

Writing over the countless already written there.

She traces the notes on her thigh, counting the beats, and pausing at the rests,

Her tongue fingers the ring on her bottom lip, and her hand strokes over her 
stomach,

Her prized musician rests between her thighs at her womanhood.

She takes the cord within her mouth, the music pulsing an exuberant beat,

That causes her heart to beat faster,

The euphoria of love-making the music causes,

—Diving below into my naked folds—

she strokes bare flesh, to seduce the seemingly invisible lover upon her bed,

—Touch and play my wanton violin—

erotic swing of hips causes her breast to bounce free of its restraints,

—Louder and louder, the music loves me—

she lets her fair and dangerous lover take her hands away and put his own 
instead

—Beating and pulsing, my sex throbs—

his tongue teased her experienced flesh,

—I’m a whore for letting all these lyrics seduce me—

as his hands began a dance,

—Headphones Vixen, addicted to my many lives; my many lovers, stroke my 
notes, and taste my melodies—

He began to descend her restrained flesh, feel the erotic sways and skilled 
fingers,

—Throbbing, climax, the final notes mark against my thigh again, another lover 
leaves its mark on my body—

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Tempest...Caress...

—Quiet tranquility as the storm passed; releasing physical manacles of the past 
threads, a new one to be spun—

touch upon an innocence, a drop of seduction upon the way,

blood, soft, red, hot, like her-his body,

travel and explore the wide, and untasted regions with a caress, hand, or tongue,

to roll, and run little beads of sweat upon golden skin,

in moving darkness,

upon sheets made of grains of lust, soft and grating, that strokes against the 
skin.

To unbind my hair, and let the breeze have its way, let nature have its course with 
me, and take as much as it dares

—Before I let another have me—

failing to comprehend that we take, to give, to taste and refine the uncouth.

Naivety of my youth,

Intoxicate, with the wine of sensuality—of a new day; knowing I wanted to commit 
a sin—

I shed my clothing and offer myself willingly; is this not a wonderful sacrifice, to 
rise with the dawn, and sleep with the moon,

—To fade back into the sea to rise when the moon and the sun make love—

I swirl around, relishing my freedom.

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Trace

I walk across the rugged and yet smooth jaw line, that becomes a trail in the 
desert,

Smooth, yet under my feet your hair gently touches me, and I giggle at the mere 
touch,

Dare I to compare your straight nose to a bridge that brings me that much closer 
to your eyes,

Thick, and elegant eyebrows that protect and deceive the beauty of your eyes, I 
trace it too,

And then the twin pools of deep, deep ice, cold, but yet it holds so much warmth.

I fall into them, and smile, to remember that I must swim the currents,

And so I do, only to retrace your face time again, with my touch, with my mind,

Yet, I cannot without seeing the other, the face of a sister, a sister that shares 
your eyes,

Your smile,

Your lips.

Your so different, yet I see the similarities and realize that I cannot love you in only 
one way,

Not brokenly, fragmentally…

Only completely, and fully,

So I must travel the face of your twin, a different terrain that is so foreign to me, yet 
so familiar,

I trace and be glad.

The faces are one and the same yet different,

Turn towards me and let me see,

Male and female, I understand,

I trace, trace, the face of smooth skin, of smooth, yet rough jaw line, the fine 
eyebrows, and the deep, deep, ice, cold,

With twins of twins,

I trace.

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Angel of Death's Final Intimacy

I stand here silent there before you…. your tears, they mean nothing to me….



It seems as though you fear me…taking your life…?

Your life is so small and insignificant, it holds no meaning at all….

You soul is so corrupt, I want to cry at the beauty of it….

You have fallen into the despair of anger, and you have murdered someone 
dear….

It sleeps dormant inside me, and as I wake it slows fades and rides away to 
become lost….

Like a lullaby sung long ago it repeats brokenly….

Just like me, it is hollow….

I can’t wait until this suffocating pulse can be released….

And no one remembers your slowly fading memory….

This heart beat imitates life….

They seemed so dark and it held no gleam….

And yet, I had watched you and felt the stinging of water behind my eyes….

And when my lips touch yours slowly….

I realize I want to save you….

So I will slowly raise you up with me, into the cold arms, and warm fingers of my 
heart….

So leave you’re last lullaby behind as you’re good-bye, and watch as I cry….

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Until Reality Intervences

—Excruciating pain causes a jolt of familiarity through my body—

the wild chase of restricted memories, muffled voices, blurred faces,

a lock tumbling to find the significant click of a complex organism

in place; what’s the combination?

—Whisper memories not my own—

until it tugs upon strings of my odd conscience, with a longing,

softly blowing upon inexperienced skin, dripping sweat of want,

—Touch; gently explore a wanton body—

rekindling me with those gentle breaths upon my body,

encircle, my waist with strong, warm tanned arms burying a smile,

in the crook of my neck to inhale

and

imprint my scent in your senses.

—Heat to change my state of matter—

withering in response to ice, to heat, to the fertilizing flower

explore me—every pore, flick of lashes, touch of flesh,

and know me; my body, a vanishing haven for you against

time and the world

until reality intervenes.

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The Tree

‘Tis beautiful, the beauty of such a cursed place,

to see this woman bound here, twisted into the roots of this tree,

her naked form quivering as the roots continue to wrap its way around her body,

as intimate as any lover,

over the tops of her breast, her flat pale stomach, gently caressing her cheeks,

it brushes away the tears that the maiden cries,

and her pale gold hair that swirls around her face.

It takes a moment to savor her essence, her pure innocence, and shakes its 
large golden leafs in acceptance.

The tree of life has accepted the essence of the innocent,

the soul to live,

as it slowly devours her essences, she smiles, and fades away into the tree, to 
watch and grow with the other maidens before her.

Which is the beauty, the maiden, or the sacrifice, I speak of, nay,

It be the tree of life that contains the innocents of every humans’ time.

The large tree that stretches to the sky, plucks the stars, and let the maidens 
ride, to the heavens above.