Void

An empty chair..

[urdeepestdesire]

In a dark corner of your mind,

deep in the room

of melancholy;

there is a chair

i come sit on,

walking my fingers

along the marks that cover it all.

I raise my eyes,

you’re standing

with hands by sides;

i hug your coldness,

i touch every meaning of you—

every lost meaning.

[urdeepestdesire]

You are growing longing roses;

some are grey

as the color of your eyes,

ivory, are the others, as the color of your skin;

and yellow, as of your past.

With thorns of wrath—

velvet and eternal;

and with the scent of an intimate rebellion.

Hallowed be the name

of He who can, of them, have one plucked—

May the blood dripping from

be mine.

[urdeepestdesire]

I see you standing,

your fingers rubbing your neck

in a dress made out of curtains

you’re lookin through.

Light is drawing

on half of you—

the shadows of trees,

windows

and of your past.

On half of your face,

your body

and of your velvet flower

blooming beneath your ribs.

[urdeepestdesire]

But the only miracle my heart has truly ever witnessed is Love; and it’s Poetry—my heart came to know revelation through.

[urdeepestdesire]

I have that belief that the act of recalling a memory isn’t but an actual revisit to it. We do visit that very moment each time. That explains why some moments are heavily felt more than others; you’ve been going back to them but you don’t know yet.

Reflection, Miboso.

[urdeepestdesire]

My made-of-light soul is shedding tears of darkness swallowing any salvation.

Maria in noir, 17luj

[urdeepestdesire]

| Archangel Zendaya.

[urdeepestdesire]

“You haven’t expected me—a mirror before you; it was over long ago, Medusa.”

He touched her cracked face with an engraved tear on.

[urdeepestdesire]

We’re like a threaded memory;

whenever anyone turns either of us over, it’s the other they’ll find waiting.

Always together by Franco Anselmi

[urdeepestdesire]

“Oh, crimson Sun— so bloody that I believed it came out of my veins.”

An interpretation of Nashwa Amr’s text

[urdeepestdesire]

Oh, nocturnal dreamer—

spellbound by night fabric;

tell me,

what are the stars whispering

confusing you with the moon?

The Young Martyr (1855) | Paul Delaroche

[urdeepestdesire]

I got crucified on your heart, you got crucified on mine; we are each other’s only salvation.

[urdeepestdesire]

I used to play with my dreams—

up in the air

and catch 'em back.

but

why has it been so long this time?

[urdeepestdesire]

“And from the very beginning, draw My fingers the eraser— a sword, cutting through the letters of strangers; and so He who is a fellow eternity passenger becomes another eternity, different poetry; and countless light-years.”

An interpretation of Nashwa Amr’s text.

[urdeepestdesire]

Another splash hits your face,

another red stain

with your eyes flinched—

another slayed dream.

[urdeepestdesire]

A surreal tree— you are; with your branches hugging your seed amidst your chest.

Masahiko Kuroki

[urdeepestdesire]

Once, you said:

“Take this,

find me

and bring it back, please."

Since then,

i took an oath

i ain't done with the symphony of life

'til i give yourself back to you.

Behind Us, Michal Zahornacky.