Dec 22nd

She slips a pen in her empty pocket, Placing a hand on her empty pocket, Her eyes hold some agony, Her lips refuse to spit out. Her eyes hold some bitterness, Her cheeks refuse to spit out. She holds on to her dreams, Clenching her fore-friend locket. Her dreams are to fade, She has her fears around. Her eyes refuse to let go. She slides out the pen in a while, To write down how she feels, in a while. She clasps her locket, Sliding the pen back in her pocket, As she fears the ink on the page. She throws it off in the embers’ rage. Her dreams do fade, or she makes it look like that. She holds on to her pen, or makes it look like that. Maybe she holds a hold of herself, Far so high, on the top of the shelves. Maybe she thinks the handcuffs are bangles, But whatever she holds onto, Her cheeks hide them with a smile, And her eyes hold the strangles.

Aug 13th

My agony was abrupt, Unclear and unwoven. It wasn’t as bright As the scintillating sun. It was a bouquet of flowers, Flowers of the blue, Ones that weren’t chosen. Thee gazed at them, Sculpting my agony To threads again. Threads that were tangled tense, Unaware of their privileges, Captivating the blue in vein. My hands were numb, But the sun was on my side. The sun—not the world—could see A home where I could reside. Thee was the sun, Blistering my nemesis alive. Thee grasped my hands tight, Weaving my agony An enchanting disguise. The threads turned flaring bright. Perhaps the hold of Thee’s hands on my own Were making the oceans of tides, Tides that weren’t scary anymore. My heart isn’t aching anymore. Maybe I’m residing on the ocean shore, Holding a newly written letter. Life, for me, is what the letter holds— That privilege of my heart As time unfolds.

Aug 1st

I am finally free of the curse, The curse I thought I’d never break through. Tangled by barbed strings That clenched me close to death. My heart hushed, My corpse declining the blue. My hands were numb, Blood dripping off, Clenching my tears In its scarlet gown. It was a torment I thought I’d never break through. For my heart turned privileged, My blood scintillating vintage, That pushed my rotten cadaver Back to life. Now I am close to life, A little privy it is, But I’ve fallen In love with the beauty of life.