The Heartstring LineThe Heartstring Line
Aka Taylor Michele
I walk the heartstring line,
Always string thin and fine.
Balancing my way along tear-soaked sorrowful blues,
Dancing through shimmering yellows and satisfying pink hues.
Gasping my way through bitter tears along greens,
Terrible visions of loss and heartbreak clouding my dreams.
The drop down is a long one, silent and still.
Blackness at bottom from which there is no thrill.
I cling to my line, a tightrope to my red heart.
Which goes fast, stops, and stutters with his every part.
Like a play, we go through these different scenes.
My line like an anchor keeping me grounded to the very seams.
A red cloak like a fan blowing on the flames,
I call out achingly his beautiful name.
A slip in my step as the air turns green, and I start to take a plunge,
As deep, dark blues flare up, soaking up my panic like a sponge.
Sometimes I must stop and recover my spirits,
Tears pouring down m
Cold CrashCold Crash
My pulse quickens as I stare into the desolate silence of salty water.
Mind speeding along at one hundred miles past the latest hour.
Avoiding potholes, speeding over bumps and crashing through stop signs.
The clock dongs at midnight, but no confetti is left falling at my feet.
Crashing mind swerves to avoid the cracks in the road.
Lengthening and widening with every earthquake heartbeat.
The pool of salty water grows the more I stare at it.
Willing it to become a well in which I can throw a penny to pay off the debts of my sins.
Eyelashes quivering, lips tightening, hands clenching over the steering wheel.
Glass shattering everywhere, pinpoints of pain that burst through my fears.
Light crashing through, sucking me out into the reality of this world.
Ejected, I fly through the air towards the brightening light.
Instant PhotoInstant Photo
By Taylor Michele H.
You and I are an instant photo.
Black and white as the day and night,
Passionate companions who may sometimes fight.
Captured in essence with a single click,
The camera frame can't contain our tick.
Tick tock, tick tock,
Clock rolls over to the twelve and just stops.
Endless and boundless like our love combined,
A depiction of our everything defined.
Yet the geometric bruises patterning my skin,
Map the spoils you placed upon my heart within.
No bruise left by your desperate desire could be considered harmful,
Any pain brought upon me is naught but a blessed bite.
Like a Ying and Yang, our traits grow twofold in differences,
And yet we attract closer than magnetic inferences.
Lips cutting through breath, like a horn in the fog,
Both our desires rise up to battle like two vicious dogs.
Yet, my timidness and your sweetness are unparalled in art,
A kaleidoscope of colors dancing even when left in the dark.
Spirals of pleasure wrap ar
TheInkheart on DeviantArt
Tranquil waters flowed down the crevasse of her spine.
Slithering over her delicate, petal perfumed skin.
Beading up and rolling off the edges of her faired-haired strands.
Dropping onto moss surrounding abandoned lagoons.
The only onlookers are the birds and the sweet honeybees drunk off nectar.
All alone, a voice like the promise of liquid honey and rolling thunderclouds, of smooth velvet and dark hues.
Breathing in the rolling fog, eyes lifting to see the veil of clouds part before the sun.
Streams of laced light weave between the mist, drying the tears off her rosy cheeks.
Waterfalls resume as she releases the pent up breath of a thousand gales of wind,
Plucking up lilies as she rises once again from the underside of the water world.
She is Siren.
The Water Maiden has Returned.
Cherry CigarsCherry Cigars
You're gone, but I'm still going on.
My caramel toffee eyes are snuffed out by visions of your leftover coffee grounds.
Tears roll like glittering diamonds off my cheeks, tarnished at the edges by dust.
I sit here, a table for two obtained by one at the dilapidated cafe you used to love.
Deep thoughts filtered through by the cigar smoke that fills my complex lungs.
That creaky old 'Open' sign flaps against the spiderweb-fractured windows.
The sound raws my nerves until they are open cysts spilling down my silken shirtsleeves.
Every other drag off the cherry sweet cigar, I repeat the same sentence.
Whispers of quotes that you used to reminisce into my open eardrums, which quaked and burst at every musical note in your tone.
The frayed, grey newspapers that sit piled on that corner booth crackle at me.
Like demented laughter arriving in a box wallpapered with the old poems that you used to keep beneath your bed
Mapping Out The FutureShe waits in the center of a busy train station
Dried rose petals tucked between the pages of her book
Suitcases that whisper of the many promises of traveling temptation
New sounds, new smells, new places to learn and new places to look
Smoothing back the fair strands of her hair, her ring glints in the light
Beautiful rubies on either side of a diamond, two roses beside a thorn
It looks like one that a man would have given her and erases suitors from sight
She fingers it delicately as she reads a book in one hand, a fluttering page torn
It rotates in the wind as she races after it, baggage holding her back
Ending up in the center of it all between a clock-tower and a bridge, she loses sight
Trapped in a crowd, she drifts along with them until she frees herself from the pack
Losing all hope, she is about to turn back around when a voice startles her into fright
A man's silky voice, sparkling brown eyes grinning at her, his guitar case in hand
She sees his fingers extend towards her, l
progress reportthe astronauts never returned and neither did the news
in my hands i fold a megalithic pigeon
the take-home message is: the cosmos is a cold dead bitch
as you sleep under magazines, waiting for nothing.
in the shackles of a sterilized den, there's an actual
mastodon heart, pale and glassy pink, icy film
tightened like a fist; - and the scientists despair:
it's the morning of the opening,
then the few slashes of paralyzing waves.
like a sign we'd make when we were younger, a way to disarm
a bandit, or a preacher
or the oncoming horde of space invaders.
but the drawings you sent to venus never returned,
and now the crack,
and the scientists at a loss before the angered public.
they release a report that states that the floodgates opened
by themselves, that the valves erode
like the chalky sand that will swirl and hiss
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
the ones they call the foolsWe were a list of promises broken,
exhausted and frightened to be held
in the hands of dreamers and liars
have the tendency
to let slip the things
That’s why we’re fleeting.
Why poets call us clouds
with no real direction.
we’re both running away
4 Random Poems The One About KitKats
I need a piece of that kitkat
I need a break
It's a mistake
To do things for to-do-them's sake
And I'd live life-
Husband or wife
With obligations and strife
So turn away
While you may
If there's nothing to make you stay
Bring your phone,
The comforts you've known
And go find a new home
A safe place
An empty space
Vacant of life's bitter distastes
And I'll find what I lacked
Roll the cross of my back
Fuck, I want a kitkat.
lisuje is like- really pretty, guys. I promise
A pale, pretty face
Surrounded by sandy dunes
Real and wild like a typhoon
Watch her hair
Carelessly roll down her back
Watch her skin
Like marble that wouldn't crack
See the graphite
Rubbed on the side of her wrist
See the pencil
Held firmly in her closed fist
Watch her draw
And capture what's actually there
Watch her DA
and Tumblr, if you've time to spare
azuneechan is love. Azuneechan is life.
I'd seduce your pages
Make their kne
The Laws of AttractionHe likes to tell me how stars work.
He explains that Hydrogen ignites, collides, infuses -
and while he’s talking I am trying
to stifle the reverb in my heartbeat.
I try and stop my heart going supernova.
He tells me that the Hydrogen fuses into Helium
and eventually the star runs out of each -
I try not to be forcibly reminded
of every time I run out of Oxygen when he smiles at me -
I’m trying to listen.
He details how the stars elements burn out
one by one
creating heavier elements that burn less brightly.
I’m comparing stars to love
because to me, Hydrogen, Nitrogen or Iron -
a star’s still a star at all its stages
and I love the stars.
He whispers to me
about how these elements disperse
how they reform and relapse
and I recall how stars become everything
He’s got his hands in my hair and his grip round my heart
so when the silence falls I can’t help but rush;
‘There’s static energy in my
I'll Wait by the WaterThis is the place where our memories began.
A creek at the bottom of a canyon,
red cliffs on either side and a giant
pond dam to the north that wildflowers grow on.
Paths that we created through the woods
and up and down those copper canyon walls
while we pretended to be wild Injuns
or wanted outlaws being hunted by a posse.
You were on your knees,
in the middle of the creek,
when I found you.
A neighbor girl, trespassing.
I had a mind to chase you off
until I asked what you were doing.
You looked at me, smiled, and said,
"Catching crawdads. Come help!"
After that day, we spent Springs and Summers
building fort walls and chasing frogs,
skipping stones and arguing baseball,
sharing comic books and trading punches.
You could hit as hard as any boy I knew.
We had our own bridge to Terabithia,
our own kingdoms of knights and castles,
won the World Series with back to back homeruns,
settled the Wild West and discovered gold in the mountains.
My parents thought you were imaginary
until I bro
RazorMidnight's tawdry pulse
is feeble under my fingertips,
and her long black dress
feels like August
slipping through my fingers.
I like how her bones complain
that I misuse them,
tender to my touch,
and how her jaw arches back
and the moon arcs like a razor
across the room.
We flaunt the stars,
the stones under our skin
stretching the bed frame
till we crack.
And I fill you up,
your arms a battle
raging in the waning lies