“Silent Footsteps” is one of the winners of the “Summer Horror Story Contest”! 👏👏 https://commaful.com/play/indigosparkle/silent-footsteps-2/
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“Silent Footsteps” is one of the winners of the “Summer Horror Story Contest”! 👏👏 https://commaful.com/play/indigosparkle/silent-footsteps-2/

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Life is beautiful
He sang the brightness of mornings and green rivers,
He sang of smoking water in the rose-colored daybreaks,
Of colors: cinnabar, carmine, burnt sienna, blue,
Of the delight of swimming in the sea under marble cliffs,
Of feasting on a terrace above the tumult of a fishing port,
Of tastes of wine, olive oil, almonds, mustard, salt.
Of the flight of the swallow, the falcon,
Of a dignified flock of pelicans above the bay,
Of the scent of an armful of lilacs in summer rain,
Of his having composed his words always against death
And of having made no rhyme in praise of nothingness.
Czesław Miłosz
Worry is a plague A breaker and destroyer Carrying with it only pain As if it lives to torment Honesty is a fear For the truth will find a way Carrying whispers of a day When all your fears foment
One day, one rhyme- Day 2040
I am skipping over sunbeams
As they fall on the road,
A little game I like to play
When life becomes a load.
As I leap over the light lines
I leave a care behind,
I let the sunlight keep them, then
I skip on with light mind.

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The Skeleton (A Collab)
Gravestones have a tale to tell;
a strangers or someone you know
There are flowers blooming for today
or weeds from sometime long ago…
Lives loved and lost to the eternity
that is sure to swallow us all
the air that seem to surround me
wants me to respond to it’s call.
Chiseled words weather worn and mossed
Secrets lost for eternity
Tell of winter nights and howling winds
and springtime nights of serenity
And inside of these mysteries
and the stone work of these lines
and image of our Past
and of Nature and our Times-
And time is but a blur,
the earth spins round and you turn to dust
the graveyard slowly disappears…
the Irons gates are red with rust
Vegetation’s filled the site
and I lift my hand in front…
of my face, to push the gate
but I’ve found that in my stunt
Your skin has blown away
and left you thin and white and pale
You shiver as your naked bones
are exposed to the Gale…
               —A Collab with AmbroseHarte and Ourhedgehogsunitethings
An Ode to the Things We Don’t Know
The ocean waves crash against the stones And the rock doesn’t know it is sturdy As it weathers the storm As the winds howl across its face It doesn’t know that it will remain
The ocean waves don’t know They will be whole again As they only experience the crashing, The breaking, the scattering And do not know they will Return to the sea with time
The sky doesn’t know it will Flush and wain But it will always return Not quite the same but Just as bright as before, And it does not know For each and every shade of itself Someone will be down below, Admiring.
The butterfly doesn’t know why it builds It’s cocoon, but it spins The silky cage all the same, Submitting to the darkness of itself In the hopes it will come back Out again, not the same Not the same Not the same But with the promise of Drying its wings in the sun And taking to the winds
And sometimes she doesn’t know Why she gets out of bed again, Sometimes she doesn’t know why She washes her battered body And swallows food Seeming as tasteless As a curse word in church.
But she does.
“What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.” - Richard Siken, Landscape With Fruit Rot and Millipede
sometimes we think we didn’t get closure, when in fact, we did receive it - we just didn’t like the answer. - renuka i. accept it, even if it doesn’t sit well. you’ll work through it. but you can’t stay here. you deserve to keep moving.
You’re easy to love
Because your wounds
Look just like mine
Soft and familiar
Their borders
Whispered into a skin of stars
Bathed in light
By a handful of moons
.
You’re easy to love
Despite how you
Hide your pain in shadows
Behind tangled roots
Climbing each vertebrae
Of your spine
As it becomes you
And you become lessened
.
You’re easy to love
Because I’ve learned
To loathe my wounds
Their underlying ridges
Map continents of destruction
A story told
Of failure and weakness
Coordinates of which I’d really rather forget
.
You’re easy to love
Because your wounds
Look just like mine
But yours
I can bathe in forgiveness
Yours
I can kiss and say
“You didn’t deserve that”
Yours
I can love
Because yours
I can see for what they are
.
Even though your heart is broken
You’re easy to love
Just like I hope
I could be too.

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You're My 5 a.m.
I wake up before the birds
To talk to you,
To see that smile form
On your perfect lips
That part and make way for that voice.
I roll over with my hair
In a mess of a pile
While I hold my pillow tight
To my body as if it were you.
My phone rings,
And then I see the light-
Your smiling face looking into my sleepy eyes.
You are my 5 a.m.,
You are my sunrise.
b.m.
The Coos Bay Times, Marshfield, Oregon, August 2, 1929
Someone can be madly in love with you and still not be ready. They can love you in a way you have never been loved and still not join you on the bridge. And whatever their reasons you must leave. Because you never ever have to inspire anyone to meet you on the bridge. You never ever have to convince someone to do the work to be ready. There is more extraordinary love, more love that you have never seen, out here in this wide and wild universe. And there is the love that will be ready.
Nayyirah Waheed (via quotexcerpts)
You were born with a ribcage / around your heart and no key. / Your heart spills and spills / through the notches, a thick / sticky red like melting lipstick. / Nothing washes out the stains.
Adira Bennett (via adirabennett)
The sound of the sea— just memory now. Time passed, turning everything to ice.
Louise Glück, from Landscape in “Poems 1962-2012″ (via adrasteiax)

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My kisses now are sand against your mouth,
Edna St. Vincent Millay, from The Collected Poems; “Sonnets: CVIII,” (via violentwavesofemotion)