Fictional Love - Tumblr Posts

Poem: About Moving On

Romantic love, lately,

Has brought thoughts

Of stories and fiction

To my mind; I feel a

New kind of love for

Myself as I realize that

You aren’t the first

Person who comes

To mind anymore.

j.p

grown out

everyday, without fail, she’s here.

everyday. with a book in her hands,

everyday, she reads away beneath my leaves

whether my blossoming flowers slowly

trickle from my branches as the soft wind

hushes them into her perfect hair, causing her to sneeze, making me laugh,

or the strong greens of summer

engulf the sky above her,

shielding her

from quiet warm rains, or

golden leaves, bright oranges, loving reds,

drop upon her words, she picks them up

gently, so careful, as if they’re so precious

to her, as if every part of me is sacred to her,

even after it has abandoned me.

but she never does.

she never abandons me.

reading away at her pages, of love, passion,

kindness and courage, hopes of finding the

one, one day to share her life with,

drowning

in her reading, being absorbed in her life

as someone else, a character who to me

is unknown, as alas, i am unable to read.

i am able to just watch. watch her smile

drain from her face, her hair, scratched away

at my bark, her flawless skin growing paler

and paler everyday as she realizes she’ll

never live the life she lives while she’s under me

reading away, everyday, reading her books

fantasizing about her looks

getting caught onto hooks

until one day she doesn’t come.

she doesn’t read. i don’t know where she is.

has she left me? abandoned me?

she’s usually at my base, in a beautiful dress,

reading away and away everyday

like there’s no tomorrow, but then

tomorrow comes and she comes again too,

only now she’s not here. she isn’t sat where i would usually see her.

instead, others are. standing in her usual place, screaming, crying, desperately dropping

to the ground, on their knees, begging

to be dreaming.

it’s nice her family wishes to have had an imagination as vast as hers.

although one of my branches has been

feeling heavier than usual ever since

deep last night, in the bright

moonlight, when the stars became the leaves

of the sky and i was sat under the tree of the

universe.

they haven’t trimmed me in a while.

i must’ve grown out.

candles

light the candles

watch the flame flicker

don’t get too close

don’t get burned please

feel the warmth

the warmth of my heart

smell the scent

i can’t escape this feeling

Primrose

Everliving and Youthful

Your image that of Beatrice,

Heavenly, resembling of the days gone

But there is no regret up here, my Dear

Our likes sometimes Daft and Daredevil,

Yet Your presence to me never sufficient

As You are my life’s only elixir, my Dear

Death himself walked the Earth today and

Damned us both, my Dear

But I will never let go of You

Place Your faith in me as You pledge to me

The remainder of Your living moments

The Earth is crumbling at our fingertips, My Dear

My life mustn’t go on any further as I can’t

Bear Your absence

So I shall leave You with the kiss of Death,

For now.

May our fantasies end the plague, my Dear

And may You return to me

You always return, in Spring, kindred to

The Primroses that line Eden’s Garden

One Broken Promise

My precious glistening dream

Yes, I know what this is.

The faint breeze between my hairs.

The fragmented shells washed up on shore.

The sand hugging my bare feet.

And as I inhale the scent of the sea,

I know this means goodbye.

Calais

your heart rushes. my eyelashes flutter.

you both love and hate the lace of

my gloves, hugging my fingertips -

undeniable elegance obstructing

your skin from touching

mine. although, you could say the same

for the rest of my attire.

but we both know actions speak

louder than words.

a lustful dose of aquamarine ketamine

white sage valley

where rams come to die and

goats become human

crystal anthems of chrysanthemums

cause shivers in my skin and goosebumps on my bones

pearly tears in the sink

twisted gears, i can’t think

through the years keep me weak

we cut ourselves on piles of ionian sea glass

your infra-red blood on my body paint

just hostility and futility embracing in a whisper

cover me in velvet bruises on my inner thigh

make me in your thyme less soul

opalescent adolescent violence

my wet nymphette scent

accompanying a lavenderection of a coleo rising

my own softness chokes me, a violin side me

lively nightshade in your hair

like nevergreen overgrowth on a grave

the tyrannical terrain decomposes the magnoliar tree

lilac tarmac scorching below you and me

you were sculpted not by the gods but by those who appreciate mortality

make me in your soul

peel away layers of plaster from my sun-kissed skin

and watch the jealousy crumble to the ground

i unfurl like petals when i’m with you

if you weren’t mine, the skin would fall on its own

unloved for eternity away from your gaze

give me

hibiscus kisses below

eucalyptus eclipses

instead

champagneful truths become the lie

candlet go of hoarse remorse

if with you i’ll never die

you broke inside of me and painted it all blue

now dance naked in the ocean of my body under the moon of my mind

i wish you could skinny dip in my lagoon empty of perfume

my soul, reborn in your eyes

a single moth attracted by a flicker

that never vanishes on time

hollow worry

hammer heart

worthless mercy

worlds apart

there's something about the mirror in the hallway

my reflection pours a whine glass wearing a webbed dress made of phantasmas i stare at her in the hallway such a shame, crying on a summer's day i don't understand her demands red excuses speak in different tongues an image of lace underwear haunts my daydream as a honeyed nightmare i'd write about you like a vine the graze of your cotton skin upon mine driving me nowhere i would know naked license plates coax me out of love am i wasting away in place? porcelain tears on an undrawn face laid by a statue's decency the clouds shape the moon's hidden lunacy my portrait of anonymity bedaubed in oil paint and nudity

the psychology behind cutting your hair

my hair is living - like overgrowth on a grave cinnamon wine cleans my eyes foxglove stare the perfume veering wildly in my bedroom the mirror complicates my reflection and reminds me of a necklace in the silver coffer that lays forgotten i'm wearing you around my neck today you're etched into my soul the same overplayed CD i carved your name in each petal of my rose a white rose from adam she drunkenly takes off her top and poses in the mirror devoted to neurosis far too young to live the lamppost that forgets to turn off fresh air trapped between two blades so blunt, so dull she tattoos herself to never go out again barbed wire, northern lights i salivate salvation backing away from the mirror, my feet tremble over the pile of detached hair i am fatally female