hey

most likely just typed out gibberish, but oh well.

[reeefeee]

sooo... yeah, I'm just gonna be dumping a whole lotta nonsense over here on this account out of boredom, pretty much. Either way, I hope some of y'all enjoy these poems and such that I'll be spitting out (... somehow.) I am no professional, after all.

(Oh yeah, expect the themes to be all over the place with most, or every poem.)

And before anybody asks, yes, it's a bird. No more questions.

[reeefeee]

Heya, just a little note before this next one,

This is gonna be my last post/poem for...an indefinite amount of time. I don't know really, I just can't seem to get anything outta me for the time being, so this'll be the last you'll hear from me for a bit (which probably isn't much of a big deal, anyway, heh).

Anyway, Merry Christmas to everyone, and a Happy New Year to follow!

-Quench.-

"One can only change their past,

If their future tells them otherwise."

The last little line I could come up with,

For the longest of whiles, in this measly mind.

I've already forgotten the message I wanted to give,

But I doubt that anyone would even care.

My conscience, imagination, curiosity,

Nor my drive that's long been out of my hair.

So I'll use what's left of it here.

Thus, this will be the last of it too.

Until it returns itself, the thief of the night it is,

I'll question whether or not to hope it comes through.

In one fell swoop, or piece by piece,

To my joyful surprise, or indifferent despair.

With redundant lessons that we often forget,

Or newfound wisdom that can't be compared.

I myself am not sure if this is right,

But we all can eventually regret in the end.

It's all a guessing game for this little world of mine,

That I don't know how, or if I even can mend.

With this, my journey will come to an end,

Although not my final destination.

While you go on your way without me,

Without the slightest humiliation.

Before I go and think to myself,

That we've only gone back to where we started.

Instead of branching our own ways moving forward,

Where we began was where we parted.

Tonight is when I bid goodbye.

Today, I hope not in good riddance.

Even though it will last indefinitely long,

You couldn't have felt any more distant.

So I'll be the one to wake myself up,

From this fruitless dream I've never dreamt.

The one that I yielded nothing from,

With all the hours for it I've spent.

I'd like to think of something clever instead,

But I'm too far gone, as you are likewise.

Farewell, my spark. Though we part again for long,

I'll remember how your flames burned as quickly as they died.

[reeefeee]

-Caprice.-

Every hour, by the hour,

Any season, different reasons.

Rinse and repeat, get back on your feet,

Another day, that never stays.

Birds are chirping, and the sun is out again,

But it's never felt like this before.

Blue skies, darting eyes,

Still images, of broken bridges.

A lack of commotion causing disruption,

Of trains of thought I've never caught.

I don't see the stars out at nightfall,

Maybe it has something else in store.

Windless mornings, hidden scorning,

A quiet hymn that's growing thin.

Thoughts filled to the brim on every whim,

All thinking of death in every breath.

Mornings have been gloomier lately,

And I'm not used to these clouds one bit.

Call someone worthless, and another priceless,

Both opposite in context, but with similar essence.

It'll come and go, to and fro,

That half of me is gone, or not here for long.

Although this heart of mine may be frozen,

The moon feels colder than I'll admit.

Trickling rain inside my brain,

Overflowing without me knowing.

Those hiding in masks lie unfiltered facts,

Like unseen spite in plain sight.

I'll lose my consciousness two different ways,

Better lose it tonight before it's too late.

We pretend that we pretend,

So we don't reveal what we're trying to heal.

Staying lost in silence to find compliance,

Of a voice that once had no choice.

I'll take the rest of this day to daydream,

To ease the blows on my crumbling faith.

On the last of these hours,

With what's left of my power,

That inside still cowers,

In anxious fear,

Of those who dare peer,

With eyes that are clear,

And hands that would hold,

No matter how cold,

From those that are bold,

And are able to bear,

All the wear and tear,

That's inveitably shared,

While never forgetting,

That the help they're lending,

Has returns still pending.

What am I saying? I don't know.

My mind goes wherever it wants to go,

So farther down these rapids I row.

[reeefeee]

-Switch.-

Try turning a frown upside down, they say,

It only works for those bent over backwards.

Even if I'm the one who feels lost,

I still try helping people move forwards.

I don't know why I have to complicate,

And overthink everything I do.

But the second I notice confusion in others,

The riddles start dwindling into few.

Out of all the people I've already met,

It had to be myself I hate being around the most.

Even still, if someone is in distress,

I'd travel a journey's worth, coast to coast.

Having to tolerate my own pessimism,

Is a hard enough thing I have to constantly bear.

Then I try finding even the dimmest of lights,

If another's darkness gives them a scare.

I shoot my falling stars down every night,

Because of the things I think while I daydream.

But then I go take someone else's doubts,

And try giving it back, with a blinding gleam.

I despise who I am, what I stand for,

Everything about me and my being.

When someone else does the same, though,

A different version of me is what they'll be seeing.

My creeping insanity fills the air,

Still left in my head, to break the silence.

However, it does the complete opposite,

When a different conscience is not in compliance.

If there are innocents with tampered purity,

There are those who're broken, with the cleanest of slates.

They say that having to wait is bothersome,

But when people get bothered is why I wait.

I hope to avoid self-loathing, yet in spite of this,

A quiet reminder constantly dwells.

Though it feels like I forget who I am,

Whenever somebody else starts to lose themselves.

And thus, that settles what I am in life;

A self-destructing mess, through and through.

Yet it's funny how I feel like I must stay calm,

When others' chaos decides to brew.

[reeefeee]

-Moonbird.-

Moonbird, Moonbird, white as a dove.

Wings of an albatross, floats like an owl.

Eyes of an eagle, black and white as snow and coal.

Hiding safely away, using the clouds like a cowl.

Light as feathers, soft as cotton; these two apply to both the same,

Above the huntsmen and predators beneath, on the prowl.

To believe or not, in this mythical creature,

Is in and of itself a hard ask on its own.

To believe whether or not it's a myth, a legend,

A fable, or what have you, is even more so.

Akin to the Man on the Moon, akin to those similar to that,

Or a seperate entity entirely, all alone.

Moonlight, moonlight, bright as starlit gems.

Borrowed beauty from the sun, second to none in majority's eyes.

Beaten in presence, practicality, even awareness of its existence,

Yet would still beat things out by value, to absolutely nobody's surprise.

But perhaps that's just my bias, as a man with individuality,

Who'd rather wake as the world would sleep, as my breaths chill with every sigh.

Alas, as I know, where it's cold out in the night,

Somewhere else on this lonely globe, warming rays engulf the surface.

It's ironic both in concept, and in figurative thinking,

How inanimacies in life are first to find and fulfill their purpose.

While as we self-proclaimed "living" beings tend to struggle at every turn,

Trying to find that same little thing with no success, becoming worthless.

Moon-Man, Moon-Man, why do you fear us so?

Why must you keep your distance, only roam while we're in slumber?

What is it that makes you so afraid to show your face,

Or look down on us, even though it's only our days that are numbered?

You're the only one of us allowed to gloat of growing age,

While the rest of us would envy you, wishing we were younger.

But in fact, this world that we inhabit,

You were once one with it, as well.

You are merely a piece it lost of itself,

The fact you still loom around is how I can tell.

Perhaps you feel just as incomplete, too.

Your missing past must be why you dwell.

Moonbird, Moonbird, what is it with you?

Why have I come to think about you every night from now?

What is it you symbolize, what do you really mean?

What do you embody, can't you chirp it to us out loud?

Could you give us a glimpse, a spark to this wooden pile of hope,

That we may someday come to light of your perception, so profound?

I can't be the only one that trusts in your existence,

I know you have the older hand when it comes to lasting patience,

Mysticality, perplexity, and everything outside and in-between,

Which makes it all the more stupefying to finally make your acquaintance.

Yet I'm the one who sits here by my windowsill, daydreaming to the night sky,

For I have nothing in my power to prepare for you the grandest entrance.

Elusive, yet so unique, I wonder how you do it,

How you're able to keep away from the sight of all, even the innocent,

Even when the white of your feathers are that of purity and brilliance,

Fond of perching on the moon, your little nest shaped like a crescent.

I wonder too if you bear children, warming their eggs up from nightly breeze,

Till they grow to be just as mystifying, as they and I grow into adolescence.

Moonbird, Moonbird, with you I feel conflicted.

Maybe you're an image that only I can sadly see.

I'm sure I'm not delusional, not if I'm still rational,

I suppose a doubter of hope is the kind of person I'll forever be.

Which is very ironic to say, for I still wish this with head up high:

Moonbird, Moonbird, please come back to me.

[reeefeee]

-Scatter.-

Today can only be a good day,

If tonight will bid me goodnight.

Everyday, I'm awake all night,

Every night makes me fear the next day.

I forget to remind myself,

That reminiscing leads to fading emotion.

Desperately begging for peace and quiet,

Will be the last time I join the commotion.

The only time I'll ever think about,

How to take care of myself,

Is when it would concern even more,

Than just my crumbling mental health.

If I don't want to prove that I have passion,

Then me having it was never the case.

I don't have to prove a thing,

If I won't allow myself to in the first place.

I miss staring at the clouds,

With a bended neck, a level head.

But now, all I see are circling stars,

As I lay face up from my bed.

Roses will always be red,

Violets have always been blue.

The things you see on the outside,

Are the things that have never been true.

If you believe that there're plenty of fish in the sea,

Then I know you're one happy sailor.

If all you want is to succeed at something,

Then you're one to be happy of failure.

Ignorance is bliss, they say,

But impermanence everlasts.

I won't go scarring everyone's future,

So I'll just suffer with my own past.

Those who say promises were made to be broken,

Probably feel lost when they follow rules.

I tell others not to think of life half-empty,

While I've never thought of my mine half-full.

Even when tomorrow is never promised,

Those who still choose to wait are strong.

Patience has always rewarded me,

By proving me right, when things go wrong.

[reeefeee]

-Breathe.-

There's nothing to worry about.

No need for attention, useless clout.

Rusing others is just a ruse,

For dignity you may find yourself without.

There's nothing left to say.

Nor needs mention, keep thoughts at bay.

Although, there are times that you can't help it,

And one of those times is today.

I'm never sure when things need saying,

Out of belief, or while I'm praying.

It's hard to know if what you know,

Is a light that needs to dim, or glow.

I don't want to overthink again,

But with no rhyme nor reason, it just begins.

Breathe.

Breathe slowly.

Don't go chasing things you shouldn't.

Exhale.

Let it all out.

Even if you could leave them alone, you wouldn't.

There's everything I could die of.

Be it to send me to Heaven, and above,

or down below to the depths of Hell,

No need to be hasty, don't push and shove.

There's nothing I won't lose.

Even if I were the one to pick and choose,

What should stay, and what should go,

I'll always be left with a mental bruise.

It's all a guessing game,

That often ends in crippling shame.

We band together because we're weak,

Losing what makes us strong leads to utter defeat.

If you never try at all,

You'll never have to eventually fall.

Breathe.

Take it easy.

This is the wrong game to be playing.

Pause.

Look around.

It's only yourself you're delaying.

There's nothing that can scare me.

Closest yet is flinching, barely.

I know it's ironic to say,

But I still look around, wearily.

There's nothing to be afraid of.

It's all now a pride-filled, stubborn stare-off.

But you may still fall in too deep,

Inside the eyes of the abyss thereof.

What if I get lost, with my life flashing,

From my heart set up into blaze, and ashing?

What if I'm not able to look for the signs,

In the dark, that tell me what I've left behind?

What if I drown, pass out, or fall too far?

What if I no longer know where monsters are?

Breathe.

You're fine.

Nothing will hurt you, not anymore.

Calm down.

It's alright.

You know you've been through this before.

There's nothing in the darkness.

No incarnations of the heartless.

It's just me alone with scattered thoughts,

That I'll never learn to harness.

There's nothing behind me.

Except for memories, and regrets of binding.

But what if I'm wrong, not able to take it?

So one more time, my mind goes winding.

I can't be sure what's real or fake,

If it's a lucid dream, or twisted fate.

I don't want to figure it out myself,

To be sane is to forget oneself.

Too far down the well you delve,

Only then too late to ask for help.

Breathe.

Breathe deeper.

The deepest you can go.

Now hold it.

Keep holding it.

Till your mind goes to, and fro.

Just relax.

That's all there is.

You can do this until you're old.

Rest your eyes,

Of all those cries.

You'll learn everything you need to know.

Just keep holding it.

Keep holding it.

Hold it.

Hold.

[reeefeee]

-Vision.-

Will all you see be darkness,

If you were blinded out of nowhere?

Or will all you see be light,

Because life is flashing before your eyes, so bare?

I couldn't even start to imagine,

What a blinded person feels in life.

Because since they've never seen a single thing,

They can't envision that disabling strife.

They can't explain to us in full,

Whatever hardships they have to go through.

Be glad if your eyes have been opened wider,

By someone who can't see it, nor have a clue.

About what we can learn just from their perspective,

Of a life where they have none to go off of.

Always taking shots in the dark,

Well aware they might get hit in the head from above.

Although there're lighter sides to this predicament,

The darker sides are there no matter what.

Always will be in the eyes of those who don't have them,

And those who will always keep them shut.

Sometimes I wish I couldn't see the world,

For what it is, and what we say it should be.

There truly is no right or wrong here,

We just turn away from things we don't want to see.

Sometimes I wish I never had glasses,

So I'm not forced to look at this crumbling reality.

At least when I'm constantly in paranoia,

I won't be able to picture the demons of my mentality.

I would've been able to avoid seeing everything,

But that's also the problem I can't take back.

I'll always be one sense too short,

Confirming what's fiction, or fact.

If I never had to witness everything I have this far,

I'd never witness what I feel are miracles, either.

Although I don't really believe they happen,

I'm still one that needs to see things, to be a believer.

To be blind of all the horrors is a blessing,

To forget your faces is a curse.

I may never see your crying eyes again,

But my imagination will make it worse.

[reeefeee]

-Favor.-

Useless advice you give very often,

Stuttering every other syllable you say.

Even though I know it's in good intention,

Do me a favor, and go away.

After every single failed attempt,

That you and I commit, you still try to atone.

Your heart is in the right place, but,

Do me a favor, and leave me alone.

Sometimes your voice just gives me a headache,

Other times, it makes me spit the drink from my cup.

You're trying your best, I know this much, but still,

Do me a favor, and shut up.

Being around you makes me uncomfortable,

You insist that you can help me, but at what cost?

I don't understand how you aren't getting the hint, so,

Do me a favor, and get lost.

You can't even strike a conversation correctly,

What more of your corniness, and random pokes?

Lightening up the mood just isn't your style.

Do me a favor, and quit the jokes.

Although you're very stubborn at times,

I'm surprised you realize when you go over-the-top.

Now that I know that you know this,

Do me a favor, and continue to stop.

You say that we have similar perspectives,

But you're only looking right at me, in the face.

So if you really want to understand me,

Do me a favor, and turn the other way.

You put so much effort into tending to me,

While all you get in return is less than a speck.

I'm really sorry that you choose to act this way, but,

Do yourself a favor, and keep yourself in check.

You're exhausting yourself way too much for me,

I don't want that thought to go over your head.

So please just listen to me, just this one time,

Do yourself a favor, and help yourself instead.

It'll be better for the two of us,

We can both handle ourselves by then.

But I know, I know, you just want to help, so,

Do me a favor, and never help me again.

[reeefeee]

-Snap.-

My mind is saturated with things it shouldn't,

Yet I don't bother to find a wringer.

I wish I could just get rid of it all,

All with the snap of my finger.

Clouds of thought always loom around me,

Wherever I go, those same clouds linger.

I wish I could just blow them all away,

All with the snap of my finger.

Always lurking in the corner of my eye,

Are my delusions taking shape, bearing figure.

I wish I could just wipe all the blur away,

All with the snap of my finger.

With what's left of my dreams and desires,

Crippling doubt is what keeps me hindered.

I wish I could believe I might reach them all,

All with the snap of my finger.

An incurable disease that could plague us all,

A sickness that leaves someone mentally injured.

I wish I could take their places instead,

All with the snap of my finger.

Long-bloomed ideas ending in flames,

Gone with the wind, reduced to cinders.

I wish I could've helped them grow even further,

All with the snap of my finger.

Guiding lights, bright and colored emotion,

Blazing fires getting me through the winter.

I wish I could be able to repay them all,

All with the snap of my finger.

People like me would say it's just a little hiccup,

But we all know it just gets bigger, and bigger.

We wish we could just crush it back down in our hands,

All with the snap of a finger.

With every moment that passes by,

My patience grows thinner, and thinner.

I wish I could just get it all over with,

All with the snap of my finger.

These distant memories, wasted time,

Useless decisions, and utter regret.

I wish I could just forget it all,

All with the snap of my neck.

[reeefeee]

-Red-handed.-

Bloody hands, bloody hands,

Everytime I wake.

The blood on my hands are real,

This face I wear's a facade, a fake.

Whatever bleach I dip my hands in,

Or will drink down, it never leaves.

Like a tattoo that seeps through my skin,

It's there for everyone to see.

While I tuck both hands into pockets,

Pulling both sleeves down to my fingertips.

That's why I'm so fidgety with my hands when I speak,

So that people see nothing more than a blip.

Bloody hands, bloody hands,

Nobody's noticed yet, somehow.

Yet I don't feel like you'll believe me,

Even if I admit it out loud.

I'm not normally the social type in public,

Or the one with the loudest voice in the room.

So even if I slip up and mention anything about it,

Nobody would even notice, or have a clue.

But I don't want to be the bearer of the worst of news.

Somebody else's truth isn't mine to bend.

Only if my testimony clears out all of the air,

Is when I feel it's appropriate to apprehend.

Bloody hands, bloody hands,

How have I not been caught?

Is my act really just that good,

For all my lies to have been bought?

I have no idea if I'm the trickster,

Or if everyone else is making me the fool.

But no matter the situation you're in,

It's always better to keep your cool.

Rather than lashing out at the thought of,

Something not always guaranteed to happen.

So if you're wondering why some people are paranoid,

By then, you may not realize that you've also been maddened.

Bloody hands, bloody hands,

I just feel so deranged.

I don't know who I am anymore,

I killed that person yesterday.

[reeefeee]

-Answers.-

Looking for answers, but never giving them.

Never listening, even though I too ask questions.

What makes it so hard for me to be self-positive?

I just hate myself with a passion.

Jet black hearts that still beat to a rhythm,

Still giving little white lies to those we trust.

What fuels my hatred toward the man in the mirror?

If you don't know, then that makes two of us.

Or maybe I do, but I just can't describe it,

My vocabulary's worsened since God knows when.

I don't mean to leave the paper blank,

There's just no ink left in this pen.

Penning deep thoughts from the top of your head,

Being sent to the clouds, buried 6 feet under.

What'll happen to a person's family and friends when they go?

That's what I'd rather wonder.

Being guilty as charged, yet proud to have done so,

Covered in dirt in a casket, with a clean slate.

Why regret when you won't remember it in the end?

That's what I often contemplate.

Preaching the masses, with doubtful hypocrisy,

Believing that nothing is ever worth dying for.

Is life itself even worth the risk of making?

I have no say in that, you take the floor.

Staring at nothing the whole damn day,

Missing moments of your life, with just a blink.

Will everything be temporary forever?

Now that's just ironic, don't you think?

I don't know if I know a single thing in life,

But we're all differently born and raised.

Free to go out and breathe how you want,

Or suffocating inside your own head, mentally caged.

Making noise just to fill the silence,

Moving forward without knowing where to go.

Why is this all revolving around my head?

I honestly do not know.

People often ask the same old question:

"Is there something wrong with me?"

This is the only one I have a sure answer to:

There's nothing right about me.

[reeefeee]

-Copycat.-

I don't know who the hell this person is,

The one that's always in front of my reflection.

He's always there when I look in the mirror,

And what others see in me, in their perception.

He seems like an enjoyable guy,

Nice to be around, there when he needs to be.

How do people mistake me as him, everytime?

I'm as far from his attitude as a human can be.

I've never met this guy in my life,

But as far as I know, we have lots in common:

We have the same birthday, similar voices,

Alike philosophies, don't speak very often.

All other mannerisms aside,

He seems like a pretty solid person.

While there's me, on the other hand,

Someone you'll never find anyone worse than.

Although I see him every now and then,

We've never spoken to each other personally.

We kind of just go on with our days,

After staring at each other in the face, unknowingly.

And other than that, he's just gone with the wind for me,

Either everyone's delusional, or maybe I'm blind.

I'm honestly curious of how I'm missing so much,

How I don't see this person, who's one of a kind.

Everywhere I go, he seems to follow,

It's just that I never notice that he's there.

Maybe I should pay more attention,

Or should I even bother to care?

It's very unclear if one of us,

Is the one that's imitating the other's path.

Whether it's purely coincidental,

Or just the fact that neither have bothered to ask.

Maybe we're just twins with opposite minds,

Maybe we're both two sides of the same, riddling coin.

Same poles of a magnet, constantly repelling,

Pieces of the same puzzle that can never join.

People seldom talk about him around me,

Still, I don't understand how he and I are the same.

I won't be surprised if he doesn't copy my movement anymore,

But I wonder what he does when I'm out of frame.

[reeefeee]

-Lullaby.-

I don't know my keys or chords,

But I can tune my vocal chords.

I don't, and won't sing out loud normally,

Only at my leisure, my own accord.

As much as I hate the voices in my head,

I don't mind the voice behind my lips.

It isn't as condescending, or negative,

It even sometimes gives helpful tips.

The only problem that I have with both,

Is that they sound exactly the same.

So I end up scaring myself even more,

Whenever somebody calls my name.

Voicing a tune just helps me forget,

It helps to distract me from my own head.

Because I sing words strung together by others,

Who've better conveyed things that I've said.

It's a temporary escape for me,

But also a temporary chance of escape, as well,

For the voices I try to keep behind my teeth.

That's why keep my mouth shut, so no one can tell.

As much as possible, so nobody will hear.

Often times, I'd wish that I was mute.

But who's voice would keep me in check, then?

What will restrain my inner, mental brute?

What use is it to be calm and collected,

If there is no calmness to be collected at all?

If it's only a lullaby, short and sweet,

Incomplete when we sleep before it ends, at nightfall?

I won't even bother wasting my voice,

If it doesn't say words I myself conceived.

It's hard enough that I lose my breath when I scream,

My mind never gives me time to breathe.

I can't tell the difference between the voices I hear,

In my head at night, and what you hear in the day.

So don't wonder anymore about why I tell you,

To never trust anything that I say.

This is the only time that I'll admit,

That I can keep a decent tone.

But it's sad to know that the voice I loathe,

Yet the one that I sleep to is my own.

[reeefeee]

-Drowsy.-

If you want life to become a fairytale,

Prepare to be grabbed by the tail, and thrown around.

Stop lying by saying you're living a dream.

You aren't buried underground, nor above the clouds.

I often daydream, more than I'm comfortable mentioning,

But it's just an impulse that everyone has.

Imagining situations unlikely to happen,

Or posing in different clothes, in front of a glass.

As much as I want to say that it's wishful thinking,

That's literally all it is, nothing more.

But I too admit that I sometimes wish,

That I could stay in there, and lock the door.

Swallow the key down, and enjoy myself,

While moving farther and farther away.

To where nobody but the people I create in there,

Can bother me while I swing and sway.

But that isn't the part that gets exciting,

Rather, terrific-- no, that's not it...

Ah, terrifying, that's what it is.

But I guess it's better to use horrific.

And as much as we all want to say we don't,

All of us have a demon, or two.

Or night terrors, closet monsters,

Maybe ghosts under your own bed, too.

Some find comfort in the dark,

Some stray from discomfort in the light.

Others sleep to relive a perfect day,

Others wide awake, slowly dying at night.

Every time I open my eyes,

I never trust anything that I see.

My vision's gone blurry enough through the years,

Realizing nothing I see is real isn't news I need.

I don't care if every one is lucid,

Been on repeat, most likely rehearsed.

A tsunami happening is bad in itself,

Knowing it's coming before it does is worse.

A lot of people want to live in a dream,

Between that and a nightmare is where I'm stuck.

I'm not afraid I'll stay asleep in a casket the next morning,

I'm afraid that I'll wake up.

[reeefeee]

ATTENTION!

This piece you're about to read will be cut into 3 different posts, for it has a total of fifty-seven stanzas. Yeah, you read that right. F i f t y - s e v e n . Now that that's out of the way, I'd also like to mention that this will be very far from my previous poems, in terms of mood (and length, no less.) On the opposite side of the spectrum, you could say. That aside, I hope you enjoy it, it's definitely one I left my comfort zone for.

-Window Thief.- [Set 3/Final 19]

In hopes I'd stumble across that lonely lady,

And any trace she might've left,

Over the piling waves of snow,

As my feet get harder to heft.

Time went on, the looming thought of death,

Had slipped into my brain.

While I start to sink into the shivering white,

And the numbing, frozen pain.

Till I noticed, just out of sight,

A familiar silhouette, layed on its side.

My rose inside of its beige-coloured vase,

Plotting the way, my forward guide.

Closing the gap between me and the silhouette,

My sight of it steadily clears,

As it came into shot, and I came to shock,

That it wasn't what I thought would appear.

It was her, half-buried under the snow.

With no delay, I attempt to lift her out.

Shoving piles of snow away from her,

Before I collapse into a blackout.

I try to carry her all the way back,

On a path that I've lost to the freezing storm.

I hold her closer in desperation,

Alongside hope to keep her warm.

But then, an echo sounds from afar,

A familiar voice, that was soon to be followed,

By a familiar and furry face,

An unlikely occurrence that was hard to swallow.

So I follow my beloved dog, tailing behind him,

As I see an orange colored hue in sight.

The fire still burning inside of my home,

That can help with this frosty plight.

We finally arrive, and luckily alive,

Getting snow off our bodies, with shakes and shrugs,

To sprint toward the lighted fire,

Gently dropping the woman onto the rug.

I wait in silence, for her returning consciousness,

Hoping that she would open her eyes once more.

By grace and goodness, she finally did,

As she sat straight up from the floor.

With the look of bewilderment across her face,

I inch away from her to give her some space.

"Are you alright?" I asked, hoping for an answer,

But it was obvious that it wasn't the case.

Silence filled the air around us,

With her gaze that faced the floor.

"Why did you return the rose?" I asked her again,

"I had meant for it to be yours."

She turns away from my worried gaze,

As she finally speaks to me, in shame;

"It would've wasted and wilted away,

Like I almost did... until you came."

"Why did you come for me? I've no worth...

And yet, you still put your life at risk,

For me, for no one..." She said to me softly,

Grabbing the cloak in a tightly closed fist.

I look to her, initially speechless,

Inside of the garment of which she's wrapped.

My dog then scuttles closer to her,

To curl and rest over her lap.

It took a moment for the words to come out of my head,

So I spoke them deep from my chest, out loud;

"I've taken good care of my precious rose so far,

So why should I stop now?"

I say with the most sincerity I've ever had,

While she turned to the rose by the windowsill,

Till our eyes found each other once more.

It felt like time had completely stood still.

The following morning, I look out that same window,

And I see nothing but chilly white outside.

So I turn around from the rose by the windowsill,

To the rose that now sits by the fireplace, inside.

The eyes are windows to the soul, they say,

I'm glad I left mine open wide,

And that she was comfortable to give me her heart,

Because she had already stolen mine.

[reeefeee]

ATTENTION!

This piece you're about to read will be cut into 3 different posts, for it has a total of fifty-seven stanzas. Yeah, you read that right. F i f t y - s e v e n . Now that that's out of the way, I'd also like to mention that this will be very far from my previous poems, in terms of mood (and length, no less.) On the opposite side of the spectrum, you could say. That aside, I hope you enjoy it, it's definitely one I left my comfort zone for.

-Window Thief.- [Set 2/Second 19]

Hiding behind the scarlet strands,

She cracks to my pet an inviting smile.

And then, she would feed him bit by bit,

And would continue for a short while.

I stand to not only admire,

A growing friendship between the two,

But as well as a growing liking inside of me,

To the root of the beauty now in my view.

As I was charmed, I took a step forward,

Followed by the wooden floorboard's creak.

And the same moment, she dashed away,

Before I had any chance to speak.

I felt all the energy leave the scene,

As my dog barks away, into the wild.

I then decide to start the cleanup,

Of the unfinished plate, that has now gone mild.

Although I had felt a little downhearted,

And as blue as the morning sky after the fact,

I shook off the feeling, and very soon after,

I thought about what to do, when she comes back.

Just then, a spark of imagination,

Grew into a bright idea in this mind of mine.

So I waltz in, back into my greenery,

And search for the growing color of her kind.

I then take my full grown rose into a vase,

That I've been meaning to use as a centerpiece,

And instead set it by that windowsill,

To show I don't view her like some kind of beast.

And so, her next visit arrives,

As I've waited patiently, out of sight,

From the window that she passes by,

Accompanied by the floating tufts of white.

And there she was, as I suspected,

With hair as red as the rose she peers at.

Just as vibrant, yet not as alluring,

Dare I say lovelier, in fact.

She felt surprised to know food didn't greet her,

But instead a lone flower takes its place.

The feeling of wonder, and curiosity,

Was written all over her face.

But looking past that thought,

I realized something I hadn't before.

As she picked the rose up between her fingertips,

She seemed to be freezing, down to the core.

With stew in hand, I attempt to approach,

Yet my dog begins to bark, by my side.

It startled the both of us, and when I looked back,

I was greeted with an unblocked view of her eyes.

It was brief, but enough to burn in my memory.

The sight of two olive-coloured gems.

Though we were both a distance apart,

I could not take my own eyes off of them.

For what felt like a lasting eternity,

Like her, the contact breaks away.

Even when she and the rose were long gone,

The majestic view I had of her stayed.

The glimpse of warmth that felt so similar,

To the burning firewood I have, encased.

Now that I've seen it, while having this fireplace,

That glistening image will never be erased.

The rest of the day, I sat and waited,

With the stew and a cloak I found, coloured beige,

Hoping it would help her from the winter chills,

Until my conscience decided to sleep, and fade.

I woke up later, empty handed,

Empty bowled, and to my confusion,

The rose I thought she had taken away.

For a moment, It felt like an illusion.

My train of thought was then halted,

By the coldest of gales I'd felt this season,

And a thickening fog of icy white;

"A snowstorm," I thought. "It's the only reason."

With no doubt nor hesitation,

I head out into the chilling winds,

While I try to overcome,

The slowly spreading frostbite on my skin.