deveril

I write poetry / I’m mute / I’m chronically ill / 👨🏻‍🦽

[deveril]

It's my 11 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[deveril]

Look upon the walls

of this broken heart —

see the name inscribed

into the bleeding flesh;

hear the weakening,

arrhythmic drumbeat —

harken to the voice,

the anguished echo

of a name cried out

into emptiness.

There is no response.

Witness the carnage

wrought by love’s demise:

a man without hope —

a life in ruins.

— deveril

[deveril]

[deveril]

A single heart beats

among the billions,

and it beats for you,

beats for you alone.

It may not matter,

make no difference

to a heart that's closed,

but it beats for you.

In a world of hearts

that you do not love,

a heart bleeds for you,

a heart breaks for you.

A single heart loves

only you, just you,

and it always will,

"til its final beat.

— deveril

[deveril]

Attention is like

water from a spring;

unbidden, it’s pure,

just as love is pure.

But to ask for it

is like drinking from

a poisoned fountain,

a minute’s comfort,

permanent regret.

— deveril

[deveril]

When my mind wanders

it never goes far.

You’re always nearby,

somewhere in my thoughts.

If only you were

so available

in reality

as you are in dreams.

— deveril

[deveril]

Eyes have see too far,

And have seen too much

Of the ceaseless strife

Visited upon

Those who open the

Unarmored portals

Of a stricken soul —

These grieving warriors,

In their minds, go home.

They withdraw, inward;

Build the walls higher,

The redoubt stronger,

Dig the trench deeper.

No more ventures forth —

Cede the battlefield,

Defend the homeland.


Fall back upon the

Sacred parapets

Of the high chambers,

Holy of Holies

Of a fortress heart.

But soon, the walls are

Overcome, crumbling,

The battlements are

Burning, pushed aside.

So easily are

The heart’s defenses

Penetrated, oh

So quickly the heart’s

Sanctuary is

Infiltrated, and

How suddenly its

Lord falls prey, again.

— deveril

[deveril]

Will you think of me

when I am no more,

will you remember me?

When I’m merely dust

and have blown away,

will I still live on

in your memory?

Have my steps left prints

in the sands of your

gold, sunlit beaches?

Or when I am gone,

will it be as though

I was never here,

never lived at all,

and never loved you?

—deveril

[deveril]

He was abandoned

and forgotten by

everyone he knew.

People come and go,

like an autumn wind

bearing the promise

of bitter winter,

the cold solitude

of stark loneliness.

— deveril

[deveril]

Emotions are stronger in the darkness. 
In the light, it’s easier to pretend, 
Easier to distract myself from pain. 
But there is no escaping in the dark, 
When ghosts of the past haunt my wakefulness. 
I am visited by those who are gone; 
I see the disappointment in their eyes, 
And I know I’m unworthy of the gift 
Of life that I have carelessly squandered. 
In this monastic cloister of a life 
My only visitors are those who died, 
I have been forgotten by the living. 
This is my empty life, of vacant chairs 
And photographs of the dead who loved me.

— deveril

[deveril]

A rudderless boat

in the middle of

an endless ocean;

a purposeless life

with no direction,

and nowhere to go.

Fading life, adrift.

Time for reflection

on wasted time and

opportunities.

All of the regrets

of a misspent life

weigh so heavily

upon his conscience

there is nothing left.

He lives in a past

reliving mistakes

he cannot correct.

He could have loved you

the way you needed.

And he could have been

an unselfish man.

He could have learned from

his many mistakes.

Life-changing failures,

and it’s too late now.

And he could have said

how sorry he is,

how much he regrets

each mistake he made.

But who can hear him?

There’s no one around.

He’s alone, adrift,

in the middle of

an endless ocean.

He will die alone,

as so many do;

time waits for no one.

If it’s the last thing

that he ever writes,

that anyone reads,

it is simply this:

Life is transient;

so while you have the

opportunity,

tell them you’re sorry,

tell them you love them,

tell them that you care,

while you have the time.

Tell them with your heart.

— deveril

[deveril]

They’re all transient:

happiness, freedom,

hope for the future.

They can all vanish,

in just a few days;

hours of mere struggle

become a lifetime

of pain, confined in

a broken body

that has betrayed you.

The simplest things,

like walking one step,

are taken away.

How we take these things

for granted until

they’re taken from us.

We don’t cherish them

until it’s too late.

— deveril

[deveril]

Who could love someone

as broken as me?

If only I could

leave myself, I would.

So I do not blame

you for leaving me.

I want you to know

that I finally

understand why you

decided to leave.

The reason was me.

I’m alone because

that’s what I deserve.

— deveril

[deveril]

There was a field in my old town

Where we always played hand in hand

The wind was gently touching the grass

We were so young, so fearless

Then I dreamt o'er and over

Of you holding me tight under the stars

I made a promise to my dear lord

I will love you forever

Time has passed

So much has changed

But the field remains in my heart

Oh, where are you?

I need to tell you I still love you

So I reach out for you

You fly around me like a butterfly

Your voice still echoes in my heart

You are my true love

There was a field in my old town

Where in spring all flowers blossomed wide

We were chasing butterflies

Hand in hand 'til close of day

Your voice still echoes in my heart

[deveril]

[deveril]

Strange is the blood that

courses through these veins;

it carries with it

past experience,

the forge of wisdom.

But time has been cruel,

circumstances have

been unforgiving.

The bloodline runs thin,

extinction draws near,

as I am the last

to carry the name

that had been noble.

— deveril

[deveril]

How many people

will abandon me

and justify it

on the basis that

their decision is

the right thing for me?

Such philanthropists.

My heart has been crushed

by endless silence

and isolation;

these are the gifts your

generosity

has bequeathed to me.

— deveril