I miss the coward I used to be. She was much braver.
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@towerofstars
I miss the coward I used to be. She was much braver.
It’s hard to bargain with the inevitable because even though there is a forever, you are only a brief moment within it.
I don’t know when I stopped looking
for the ghost of you or
when I realized that I was
more haunted by the ghost of me.
Jade and Gold: Egyptian Tombs
I.
Deep in the desert, our stories told
of an empire that lived beneath the sand,
a place where gods lingered between stones of jade
and gave us gifts of gold.
Our tribe would travel between oases;
Pyramids rising and crumbling
to dust in the distance as we searched
for this empire, our origin.
I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul.
Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities
Do you ever miss who we were and hate it at the same time? I thought I wasn't enough of anything, More of a black hole than a star; But I was still forming, the atoms still condensing into a bright light. I didn't know how to be back then, But now I'm starting to glow.
Love is a Clock
It know the hollow tick of empty hours,
the feel of two hands that slowly pass over each other
hour after hour before they crawl away again.
It knows each hour, each minute, each second
of joy and loneliness.
Time can hurt. Time can stop.
The batteries die and sometimes
no one is around to replace them.
Spectral Visitors
They stand behind the trees, sitting atop the russet branches stretching towards the dawn. They are talking, voices murmuring through the shadows, about the soil, how it is the bringer of life and the cloak of death. They are so tall, so thin. How are they not fading between instances of starlight?
Their hands reach for us. Take my hand, they say. The birds begin their high melodies, distant through the forest, echoing as though there was nothing in the ground. Take my hand, they say. Their voices are melodies, too. Such sweet melodies.
We abandon our burned down fire, the cinders mimicking the swirling and shimmering starlight of the galaxies in the sky. The leaves crunch under us, turning to red snowflakes beneath our feet.
We reach the trees, touching the rough bark to settle our beating hearts. Take my hand, they say. Their fingers are slender, white spiders and we fly into their web.
They pull us in, warm arms wrapped gently around us and we descend beneath the soil, to the roots of the earth we sprung from, nourishing the flowers above.
Nothing Beneath Their Bones
No man tries to defy the stars
he tries to swallow them,
erupt into supernovae stretching
into reds and golds and blues
collapsing worlds filled with life,
filled with nothing.
No man can say that
he has never destroyed anyone
the same way a girl tears apart
daisies, counting how many ways
she is loved and she is not
until there is nothing left to love.
No man knows that he is the shadow,
the reflection watching, waiting
for the day he becomes more than real,
more than nothing. He
becomes quicksilver, unbound
by the stars.
Happiness is a fog,
hiding the world from your eyes.
You cannot see the sadness in the faces
of the men that line the street,
of the child that has lost her only friend in the world.
You see instead a light that guides your way
like a trail of fireflies fitting into the cracks of the earth.
You trust this light until it brings you to the cliff’s edge
and your foot falls off, a misstep that plunges you
into cold waters below.
There is no happiness there and the light
is lost in the depths of loneliness.
There are words I cannot say.
Fear has burrowed beneath my bones,
nestled itself within the deep recesses of my heart.
It is a cold, slow trickle of water filling me up
and no one can speak when they’re drowning.
You miss the words you no longer say,
the touches you no longer make.
You miss the elusive smiles,
the laughter that would simmer in your throat.
We lose ourselves so slowly
that we wonder how it happened.
There may be a stairway to heaven,
but it’s one hell of a climb.
The moon gazes down from the sky
the way a child looks over the edge
of a Ferris wheel, awed
and full of astonishment.
It watches man pile dust upon stone,
creating paths to the sun in the dry
heat of the desert’s sands,
creating impassable walls combing
through verdant forests, trees reaching
for the other side.
The moon gazes down from the sky
the way a child looks at a needle, afraid
and full of alarm.
It watches as man wars against itself,
blood weeping into the soil
where flowers once grew,
as man brings flames of ruin to temples
where a god once lived.
The moon gazes down from the sky
the way a mother looks at her children
as they fall into sleep, joyful
and full of fear.
She cannot cure their wounds.
She can only watch them flourish
and wither in time as she falls away
into the everblack.
I have a bucket filled with water
and I’m using it to make the desert flower.
I know nothing will ever change
but god I’d like to see you try to stop me.
I did not light your way. I gave you shadows
so that the light would have more meaning.
I stole a rose at the break of dawn
to give to a girl, whom I dote upon.
She pulled it from my grasp, full of scorn.
She was a woman with a heart of thorns
and I a man with a head of horns.