ghosts move like ash in still water, unnamed, unholy, pressing against her ribs like a cathedral of sorrow collapsing inward #poetry #writingcommunity

sickle-hearted girl reaping stars to bleed light from the sky, carving sigils into the night’s lining #poetry

lost apparitions drift through her chest tattered lullabies unraveling in the dark hollowed out of life and bloated with the sorrow she has long buried beneath her ribs #poetry #writingcommunity

her tombstone heart bore no name, only cruel inscriptions of promises broken, mid-breath and deeply-wintered ~ not even her ghosts come to visit; they feared the cold and the frostbite they left her to live alone with #poetry #writingcommunity

her chest a mausoleum, inside, a gravestone heart lay frozen ~ weathered by winters no one survived #poetry #writingcommunity

the air is thick with lavender and loss, with memory knotted throughout her hair; beauty lingers, like her fond daydreams of him before the ghosts took him, pressing his form against hers, wandering hand in hand with naked feet upon damp earth, until it all faded into made up tales

she does not pray, she plants ~ seeds in earth turned by bloody hands, her sword resting beside roots as petals fall from her lips #poetry #writingcommunity

people have let her down, yet trees never do ~ they do not ask for apologies or explanations, they open, rooted and reaching, ready to cradle her when she breaks #poetry #writingcommunity

each throb tolls a funeral bell for the girl rotting in her ribcage; she carries all her ghosts inside ~ stitched from silence and salt dressed in the velvet of eternity #poetry #writingcommunity

she is a curse, buried, and a curse that bloomed; no deity dares touch her ~ mother of myth and shadow she writes vengeance in wax and bone, in the blood of men who called her nothing #poetry #writingcommunity

she is ash-fed and unholy, the silence between prayer and punishment the saint the spell the pyre #poetry #writingcommunity

the witching hour cracks like old bone; spirits peel from the shadows writhing in veils and incense, and she, with inked sigils on her flesh and crosses stitched to her soul, wanes ~ not gone only waiting only watching only gathering her hour #poetry #writingcommunity

she is a curse, buried, and a curse that bloomed; no deity dares touch her ~ mother of myth and shadow she writes vengeance in wax and bone, in the blood of men who called her nothing #poetry #writingcommunity

the witching hour cracks like old bone; spirits peel from the shadows writhing in veils and incense, and she, with inked sigils on her flesh and crosses stitched to her soul, wanes ~ not gone only waiting only watching only gathering her hour #poetry #writingcommunity

crookedwinged songbird relearning how to soar on mended phalanges

her heart is a fire ritual ~ a dark-lit mass for the godless, smoke curling from her collarbone like a curse whispered backward #poetry #writingcommunity

let the forest eat you, darling; no grave, just earth splitting its black mouth and receiving you whole; cradling and caressing and escorting you back to the dirt where we all arrived from ~ bloodied, haloed in grief, pious, pale #poetry #writingcommunity

The Silent Voice (1893), painted by British artist Gerald Moira (1867-1959). It's a haunting work about a voice in the lady's head, inspired by a poem written in 1833 and 1834 by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. The poem is called "The Two Voices" and deals with depression and suicide. #art #painting #poem

As the seasons pass so do we Capturing the moment seems fleeting Time stops for no one The butterfly understands It came from a caterpillar Its season is but one Living each #moment As destiny requires So it is in our life’s Breath for today For tomorrow May never come #vss365 #poetry #poem

dressed in lunar, this void-hearted girl bleeds moonlight exhales midnight her silver grief trails down porcelain limbs that have forgotten how to live without being caressed by each carved darkness #poetry #writingcommunity

a thorn in silence strangled by velvet petals no breath left to sting; beauty made a cage of bloom as soft hands shaped her decay #poetry #tanka #writingcommunity

he worshipped the wound he made in her; kissed it open night after night, licked it clean, stitched it closed with pious hands and silvered strokes #poetry #writingcommunity

she drinks with bruised lips from chalaices stained with lavender ache, adoring the sting as if it were worship, as if the ruin were forgotten dreams of him that always ravish her wilted soul #poetry #writingcommunity

she’s absinthe and gore ~ the girl you conjure when sleep refuses her breath smells of wormwood and ruin, hot tongue dipped in honey and poison and she wraps her thighs around your sins, love, calling it prayer #poetry #writingcommunity

I go barefoot into the tempest, where the trees bend like broken promises and skies crack open like her ribcage #poetry #writingcommunity

take me to the river where silence folds over night, where weight relieves pain I'll fill my pockets with stones of memory and the depths can take me home pic ~ mourneress

night holds no mercy, only hearts unlearning hurt, only breath spilling like secrets onto willing flesh and she arrives, all wanton honeyed flames draped in lust, sweet as ruin dripping gold down the slope of his desire #FoxProse

collarbones buried by feather-soft flesh; a sparrow-hearted girl unravels in the dusk graceful even in her fall #poetry #writingcommunity

a little blood drawn, a little bruise hued #poetry

I go barefoot into the tempest, where the trees bend like broken promises and skies crack open like her ribcage #poetry #writingcommunity

she’s absinthe and gore ~ the girl you conjure when sleep refuses her breath smells of wormwood and ruin, hot tongue dipped in honey and poison and she wraps her thighs around your sins, love, calling it prayer #poetry #writingcommunity

take me to the river where silence folds over night, where weight relieves pain I'll fill my pockets with stones of memory and the depths can take me home pic ~ mourneress

under moon’s rhapsody she sings to her past lovers: each note a dagger wrapped in the silk of sadness, ghosts turning to wounds haunting even in the silence #FoxProse @darkxfer.bsky.social

she wore her defeat in shades of mauve, not red, that would mean fight, but something quieter, more mannered, like sophistry spun through torn antique lace #poetry #writingcommunity

more sky than woman scattered throughout divine realms celestial dust #poetry #haiku #writingcommunity

you were a lovingly read, tenderly caressed yellowed page in this book of poetry heart of mine #poetry #writingcommunity

she covets lilac voids that fill her heart, abysses that inhabit her lavender soul, violet violence that ravages, reviles her mind #poetry #writingcommunity

she reeks of piety, this pretty little heathen ~ halo cracked at the edges, rosary strung with thorns; she whispers hymns with a serpent’s tongue and curtsies before the altar only to bleed on the cross #poetry #writingcommunity

#poem #poet #poetry #writingcommunity

i burned the page that held my ink the fire too bright and watched each letter curl to ash in the furnace of my fright. across the embers, memories danced— your voice, your touch, your name— all reduced to glowing coals In the wreckage of my flame. #words #writing #poetry ⬇️

- philadelphus coronarius - home 09 05 2024 8:47

Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh has gone through; I dream of what it may go through.

- perceptions - home 14 12 2024 23:01

at dawn i watched the world ignite, but colour faded before my eyes. i remember how we moved with grace, saving face— shades of black and white remained; every hue i paint, memory arrested— so i borrow, trace it from your lips, how sweet the taste. ~k #goodnight #poetry #vss

Deliciously lush lazy summer days, drifting between daydreams and sleep, floating under the trees and endless blue sky

she’s a storm yet she doesn’t break she shatters ~ each shard a sermon screamed by rain against your skull, love #poetry #writingcommunity

she’s ruin; a cracked porcelain sky, storm-bled and violated as moonlight clings to the unstitched seams where dreams once lived #poetry #writingcommunity

~.

at dusk, i love how the light turns away from me, almost as though it's shy

She doesn’t have a religion. Her faith resides in the stars, flowers, and oceans. Her universe within. s.b.