We Scroll Past

The roofs shackled deep,

Far below the spires of the churches

That not a soul wanders into

For fear of being seen and accosted.

The roofs shackled deep,

In the pockets of the pictures

That crop up on midnight lights

Every half year or so.

The roofs shackled deep,

And then held out of reach

Because blood is thicker than water

And both are bought to let.

Reap torn bodies with a bare hand

Because we'd all do it if we can,

There are those, and there's me

And then the crop of the land.

Beautiful creature 👽

You definitely are 🖤🖤🖤

The woven silk of

Silence, petals fluttering

A delicate day

And the world is wavering

Between soft kiss and collapse

She rests in the arms

of a man who cannot feel her storm,

while I drown

in the flood she left behind.

I feel like a spider,

strung with longing,

spin webs from torn ribs

to catch the ghost of her smile.

Her laugh...

a blade I swallow each morning,

thanking it

for the pain.

I would tear the stars

from the throat of the heavens

just to watch her eyes

glimmer one more time.

My love is not gentle,

it is blood and bone and burning rope.

It is sleepless nights

stitched with screams

no one hears.

This is love,

where I am the pyre

and she,

the flame

that never stays

but never dies.

-Cyrus K.

And I will kiss every single scar on your body and soul, to remind you that love doesn't

have to hurt.

Ginnie Bale

My mind holds the weight of

Long sleepless nights.

Each night I

Wait there to be taken,

By the space between the blinks,

Into colours i can only

Hope to think

I could imagine,

Where life is more, and

Where sleep is less

Than a reprieve.

2 April, 1937 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov

Everything is about perspective. ~beccawise7 💜🖤