The poem as prey, as blood luscious, elusive. The poem as the locked room.
37 posts
If Life Is A Cold, Harsh Night
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
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More Posts from Unlikelyanonymous
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?
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.
Sometimes I want to go back and hug my younger self, and then I remember I’m still her and I’m still deserving of that love
Pic via pinterest

To simply exist in all her devotion.
Dear universe
At 13 I thought that the universe hates me. For it made me tainted and it made me unlovable. Perhaps it was true; or perhaps I was just 13. Now I finally see that there are things that actually love me.
The darkness holds me still and grief kisses my hand. The demons in my head tell me it'll be fine. And hunger kind of always stays along with this unbearable ache. Longing lingers like a lonely child and sinister thoughts eat me up inside. Years of misery and wishing to be dead. Screams of terror and weeps of fate. But dear universe I wont complain. For dear universe I still am loved.