#lost words

Forget me.

It’s the only way to be free.

I’ve gripped you long enough;

the agony must have made itself a home

Buried deep within your heart,

you have the scars to prove it.

It’s been too long.

You look like a statue, dressed in green,

with birds dressing you down.

with a breeze you seem to freeze

I’ve kept you up long enough.

Bury me in the soil below,

where I only found warmth,

my eyes looking up, longing towards the sky

the only place I found love.

Peace has never been my friend, always out of bounds.

It must be hard to breathe,

having to take care of me.

Lonely and bitter, twisted in your heart,

yet still you held on.

And I forgot how to let you go.

Please, forget me.

Find your way back to that path.

Let it lead you back towards love.

Let go of this baggage gripping onto you.

Be the person you were always meant to be,

and only remember me

Courtesy of the incredible historian Rosalie Gilbert's blog post, here is a list of words used in the medieval ages to describe the color red, specifically in the context of dyes.

As an interesting side note, scarlet referred to both a type of fabric and to the color we know it as today. This apparently caused some confusion for people at the time as well!

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bowdy - scarlet brassel brasil - bright red bristol burel - dark red, woolen carnation - raw flesh colour ciclaton - originally scarlet, later cloth of gold cramoisy - crimson/bright red garance - madder graine - cochineal red incarnate lustie-gallant - light red murrey - deep claret or purplish-red, made from mulberry juice pear - russett redsanguin - blood red sangwyn - blood red scarlet - bright red stammel toley - bright red vermel - bright red vermeil vermillion - bright red vermillion - bright red

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Hold me in the gentleness of your unknown gaze,

Hands have taught me only pain.

I am the ungrateful dog biting the fingers that feed,

Gulping the blood that bleeds.

I look around the room only to see the graveyard of dead papers Lost dreams scattered all over the carpet Some crumpled into balls and others torn to confetti It's a mess I ignore I don't have the time to care if the floor is paper

My laptop over heats as I sit and type I have to get the words out of me or they will turn into tumors in my brain just joining the tumors in my lungs. So much anatomy to break.

Fragments and one-liners written on the walls Black sharpie on white wallpaper The landlord's going to be kissed But if these words stay inside me I become something very sick So, I'll take the threats of eviction with a grain of humbled salt

happy friday imaginary constructs and also we did it exclamation point

Lost Words

A midnight scribble,

a morning sigh,

you watch the words

curl up and die.

Madness lives

inside your head,

of poems lost

and pages dead.

A mind possessed,

by unmade books,

unwritten lines

on empty hooks.