The poem as prey, as blood luscious, elusive. The poem as the locked room.
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If To Love Is To Rest Then I Will Perceive Death For You.
If to love is to rest then I will perceive death for you.
For what greater form of rest do we know than to lie in the cold, dark earth forever?
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More Posts from Unlikelyanonymous
You were scared to ruin me
I assured you that you wouldn't
The unsaid truth was this:
I was already ruined
Long before I met you
Long before I knew how to love
And even before you became my home
.
But you left and it felt like death
Everyone said I'd get used to it
The cruel desire was this:
I don't want to get used to you
I don't want time to heal me
I always want you to be
An unbearable ache that kills me
.
My mind is being held hostage by you
And even in grief you feel like home
The maddening question is this:
Will you love the monster in me?
Will you love me at the end of the world?
Will you simply just love me?
If life is a cold, harsh night
You are the moon that makes it bearable
For what other thing would thrive?
Even in the most monstrous forms of dark?
If to love is to rest
Then I will perceive death for you.
For what greater form of rest do we know?
Than to lie in the cold, dark earth forever?
If to long is to grieve
Then I shall make home of a funeral
For what harsher grief it is?
Than to irreversibly lose someone
I fell for you gently as leaves do on a dreary autumn evening.
You continued to bloom delicately as you were the sweetest child of spring.
Unnoticed for years, my world has been touched by you.
In running away from home, I found a home in you.
I fell for you, like hades fell for persephone
And I am falling, like moon falls around the earth still.
I write this with my love, hoping that you might see this too.
I share this with the world, but really it only ever was for you.
Future love
Perhaps one day you'll hold me, once and forever.
Intoxicated we will be, lost in each other.
And then in the dark, you will touch the right parts of me.
In hushed tones I will show you, that you and I were meant to be.
Then slowly I will learn, how to truly love me.
And gently I will heal, like all my grief ceased to exist.
Green eyes
Green eyes more altering than the phases of the moon itself.
Warm green of honeydew when life strikes with kindness.
At crucial times, a poised snake; cautious and still.
A lurid shade of poison ivy, a secret to unveil.
A sea green touch when victorious. A glory to be held.
A lover's touch, an emerald flush. A fondness to be felt.
A steady green of summer leaves, at humour and sheer delight.
Anger darkens them cold and harsh, to the almost black of woods at night.
An endless chase of grief and despair, a helpless shade of teal.
A bleeding heel and olive green. Your eyes they haunt me still.