✐ᝰ ᴾᵒᵉᵐˢ ᵇʸ ᴰᵃⁱˢʸ𝜗ৎ

We're fingerlocked.

Broken glass aligning to perfection

I'm shattered porcelain

Blood on your hands...

Only onlookers eyes register our crevices

That prove we're imperfect

I'm dollygirl

Shatter my skull

A frame I can never love

You: Dollmaker

Made me lovedrunk

Iridescent eyes ; glimmered stars...

Approached with eager hands

Promised my potential

Entranced by you

Whisked me away

Me: The Project

Attention-starved creature

Ink-sick eyes, elongated limbs

Pretty bundle of bones

Pink bow wrapped

777days

Attic + Chains.

Im the dollygirl in the dollhouse

Onlookers utter "nightmarish creature"

But now, I've a frame i can love

> Authentic dollygirl

(This is a poem I've wrote and entered for a competition 𖹭 I thought I'd share it on here !! maybe check out my other poems on my blog)

Please do tell me, mister proprietor

when i'd have expired

Dust-adorned on a trinket shelf

Flocks like snowflakes -

In my sickened head the seasons are changing

Will you dispose of me when you grow weary?

I'll watch intently, consumed and lovelorn

Please stab me with a lacy blade

and make the never-ending internal bleeding,

Never cease because i'll be euphoric

Drugged in suffering

I'll tug at your sleeve

And you'll swat at me like I'd be a kind of

doe-eyed fawn

Just for you, contort and cavort,

Drink every elixir and brew

This is my original poem I hope you all like it !! If you liked it please check my blog for more of my work

across myself : key keeper

Whilst the blood trickles down my framework

And I watch until I am someone.

Some-place.

Something hollow.

I become an ink-sick fiend

You twirl a key around

your practiced fingers

Armed with a diffident gaze

And a holster of unfeeling

I stick my hand out into twitching air

And I move too fast ; I forget I am

Hollow

And so I shatter

Into a thousand-million, tiny fractured pieces

What was I doing to myself ?

And I realised intertwined fingers and promises of today's, tommorows and forevers are incredibly fragile. Just like fractured glass.

It's just that sometimes untamed ribbons of dancing light makes the whole process... hauntingly beautiful.

We pass the streetlamps they weep in solace, in pure, fluorescent, unadulterated agony. Their tall statures, grounded. Creating dichotomy against the earthy planes. Yet, the soft cast of amber shadow creates a gentle contrast. A fracture in the picture - a dark sentience in the light. To those who emerge out of the dark serene and into the soft cast of light. To some, It's like a loving embrace. Where you can feel noticed, perhaps even deeply seen for whom you are. And you deeply resonate to the soft gaze of the street lamp.. for it sees your gentle weeping.

Because, infact it is weeping too.

Hello everyone!! 𝜗ৎ I am currently working on a morute-esque poetry collection that will follow a storyline. This will be an upcoming project!! Here is the list of poem titles I have so far :

• The Dollygirl ⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

• Angel of the party ꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱

• Dear Dollmaker 💌 📝

• Creation of an infirm creature

• The day you'll leave ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

• Docility pills 💊

• In mourning of a Starlight dreamer 📜

• The Anarchist 🗝

• The Mirror ۝

• Pyromania 🕯️

If you're interested in this then you can check my blog ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ I will be working on this over the next few weeks

Any support is appreciated ᯓᡣ𐭩

The mourning of a Starlight dreamer :

When was it that you had died?

Was it when the sun-bleached swing-set

Had finally steadied in peaceful slumber?

Starlight dreamer...

You are picture-frame innocence.

We saw you...truly,

You are the blank canvas, we saw potential in

And you discarded it, as if a threadbare ragdoll

You left us with sombre memories . .

You mourn with crayons & crafting paper.

We mourn for the ombre you silently promised.

We see you. Truly,

Single shade of nothing ; An anarchy palette of one.

Worn dolly with it's loose stitching.

When was it that you had died?

But really you hadn't said anything

Soulless you. With a lifeless gaze.

& empty buttons for eyes.

Was it when your world had stopped spinning ?

Was it when your world had began to end?

Did the sun-bleached swing-set

finally steady in peaceful slumber?

Did you want us to leave you in decay?

Wilted flower ; sun-stunned in the field

Sun-drenched in the empty playground.

And we never understood in our humble rendezvous

We stand hand-in-hand under the sun in mourning.

We stand in the empty playground. We stand by the sun-bleached swing-set.

We wished to have saved you.

Angel of the party

Guest of the party,

Satin invite in a hopeful hand,

Promises of ribbons,

Of balloons, of Shortcake,

Careless lust is simply pretty romance,

'Forgotten' by morning.

Though we can't see the break of dawn,

Through curtained windows.

So We Never Forget

Angel of the party,

Guest of the party,

Arriving from your temporary tumble to earth.

.....

Angel at the party,

Guest at the party,

But invites can expire.

Perhaps, if youd had read between the lines

Upon the satin invite in your hopeful hand...

Perhaps if you hadn't shown up at all.

The balloons wouldnt be popping,

But, youve already let in the rot.

Ribbons blade-kissed.

Cutting party romance

Ended in ribbon massacre.

Shortcake was never on the menu.

Angel in the party,

Guest in the party,

Now us - a distorted monster,

You won't recognize it.

Our glitched-stunned faces turn away,

Your bone tipped finger reaches out in the frost

Upon the unreachable window

Only.... We are the insiders

And so are you. Pitied as you search

For something

Entirely Unattainable

Unachievable.

Because the outside world is ambigious under the lights of the party

It is bow-wrapped into obscurity

We mock you with silence.

We are unresponsive

We turn away from your dying.

Only, now you turn back to your dying .

Angel of the party

Leaving the party

And you know, you want to go home.

because this party

isn't fun anymore.

You know and i know

And you know now...

Now you know...

Angel of the party, leaving the party

Never was a Guest to the party

After the ephemeral sun may rest,

You'll leave,

Leaving me...

Incapable creature ; Craves authority

Dreary and Sallow

A Funerary angel weeping

Admist Starless Sky

You'll leave,

Under Mourning sun ; Miserable in your grip.

And you'll watch with that... unavailable gaze

You'll leave,

And I'll hope the sight of me is enough to make you stay

Infirm creature ; non-existent without its sickness

With mere prayer that tomorrow may never come

The day you'll leave

⚠️: dark themes and talk of SH please do not read if you think you may get triggered !!

Under cyanide afternoon sky, we exist, hand in hand.

Under the temporality of existence,

The people most close to me, sitting together.

Patiently, I wait

Hell-soughten, I gaze

into sunken distance, into bygone dream land

I cup the candle

We cup the candles.... They cup the candles,

I distributed them with tender intent.

To share fables of my reality, I distributed candles

They are Watching the flame cascade and perform like it is a shadowed night dancer, intended for their recreation

In Pyromania, they wait,

The candle spilling wax tears in stature

In Pyromania, they gaze,

Patiently, I reach with two ill-adorned appendages

Sallow as snow, and as Bright as the Ending.

Into sunken distance, into far away dream land

Affirming my intent

The people i most close to me, sitting together

But they gaze, focused on the fleeting candle

Delirium, blinking behind my eyelids

So it must be, delirium is what it is

Slice, cut and tear my pending skin, countlessly...countlessly

With eager metal blade,

And I gaze, at the red leakage

as they gaze at the candles fleeting tears

Delirious gaze as the flame dwindles. The flame flickers and blunders in vision, leaving distorted ambience. It becomes painful to the eye

They turn away from it's dying

Confirmed in their intent

Some of them are burnt and scaled as the wax touches their skin.

Flesh peeling away under Cyanide sky

They get up with pointed fingers accusing me of murder

Though I cup my fragile candle in tender intent

I apologize profusely and hand out new candles

The people most close to me sitting together

But some turn away from my dying

I turn back to my dying

Some of them blow their candles out

The flame cascades and performs into......

Under the cyanide sky, we break hands, we exist

And I wish them:

Goodnight

Only by now I am left alone,

Until I may wish myself:

Goodnight

Invisible to the mirror - that's what I am.

Those scattered sunlight rays, they cascade right through me.

It makes me the breaking of dawn right at your disposal.

I am the breaking of dawn as you all stare right through the glass. I am the glass.

Where you can finally safely organize your contemporary mistakes without judgement

because I am not opaque, I am not translucent, I am the one hundredth shade of transparent.

I am right at your disposal when you seek a new beginning.

It is only me who is stuck in an insecapable time loop. A neverending breaking of dawn.

A special type of Hell. My special place in Hell.

I am Invisible to the mirror

I make an image for desperate eyes that seek non existent perfection.

I am not my own image though. Really, it would be that I am not the subject or interest

My greatest asset to them is that

I have nothing to hide..

In reality my secret is that I elucidate their good.

To those who can not face the mirror. I am a forbidden fantasy of theirs.

If one was to carelessly cross me,

There's a chance there would be a slow fracture in the glass or perhaps instantaneously, I'd crash to the ground. And the sound of shattering glass would torment them.

Keep them awake at night.

Their mind would become an echo chamber of my misery.

Plagued by the memory of my glass remains.

Something they call "Guilt"

It would be completely unnaceptable

Absolutely inconsiderate.

Therefore I am the keeper

The carrier of their suffering

A chance to craft breaking dawn without the reality of a mirror.

And now when I avert my gaze upon what should be myself. I can see their fresh toxins that now concentrate in me.

A blood substitute

Words of hate they casted towards themselves, that I am now the keeper of.

My makeshift organs

Taunted by cruel, cutting remarks.

An articulate nervous system

I am no longer invisible to the mirror, I am now a subject of interest

Now I am one of them

The epitome of humanity

Though I still have something of mine left -

The mirror is invisible to me, or atleast I pretend so. It is my greatest fear.

But let's face it. No one is brave enough to face the mirror

And so Ill seek another glass person whom I can transfer my toxins, my self hatred.

Candle flame and Amorous game,

Credulous frame Given Tiara name,

Contorted to fit Friable shell,

Caged up figure in Personal Hell,

Preventing Outsider's vindictive eyes,

I'm made to hide in lace ribbon, with pretty ties,

Sickness, rot, and alibis,

Shall be "All Analysed

For content lies"

So I hide, my fleeting cries,

Never to trust Outsider's cunning tries,

Silhouette pointed with shadowy finger,

Gripped and grasped,

Eyes glazed up,

It's Hurt that lingers,

Words of devotion and pent up sin,

Told its sacrality & devotion within,

Blissfully clear in manic grin,

Candle flame and liquor stain,