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PoemOh poem, how I love you. When you are clean and neat, simple, unstructured, and kind. You are forgiving my mistress but tempt me not-- for you let me leave this place and find a place in yours. You are full of twists and turns. As my pen reaches down your soft velvet paper body, I scratch away the emptiness. Leaving my ink behind a reminder. You feel the pen on your skin, soft like velvet pale as the the moon, filled with black trails of tears.Poem
by ~DeathCabForCuttie
DiscardedI am the blackest of blacks I am the satin dress, worn to prom discarded. Left to reside in the closet. Neatly arranged hanging against unbreakable wall.Discarded
My memories lie forgotten in my wrinkles the first kiss, the slow dance, soft music playing, the swinging of hips, a gentle hand placed tenderly, careful, on my side.
But none of that matters I sit in darkness, more sinister then me and I am the blackest of blacks I am the satin dress. worn to prom discarded.
by ~DeathCabForCuttie
ShoesSnow fell upon the ground frozen, feet crunch white angles. ~ Cows graze, factories produce, shows walk, all the same. ~ Professor paces teaches Plato, while soles wear thin. ~ Checkered globe follows harsh orders, though green and brown. Mothers wait withShoes
brushes prepared. ~ Angry bees flee, a tattered nest hangs blowing in the breeze small pattering -- dropping of rocks. ~ Flickering images leave ghosts. Shoes hung on wires, fade.
by ~DeathCabForCuttie
FallenFALLENFallen
Large snowflakes fall into his face.
As if they are angel feathers drifting, lost in a fowl wind.
Or maybe -- a more sinister end, shot down by fell bow.
Crying out the angel sounds like a
great bird,
not that of the
crows that blacken the sky as if by some magic net,
but a piercing shriek almost inaudible -- quaking the weak hearts of men.
Carried by the winds it travels mile upon mile, until it reaches his ears,
where upon the boy starts running-- the m
by ~DeathCabForCuttie
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( ¯`v´¯ )
, `·.¸.· Chloe.
¸.·´
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:iconthe-yard-collective: :iconcapture-that: :iconshutter-vision: :iconphoto--assignment: :iconphotographersclub: :iconprojectearth:
--
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."
--
Don't ask for forgiveness you will not get any from me.
Your pain and angiush will be my gift to you for hurting me.
Have a nice day....
ohhhh riiiiight giggity diggity giggity!
u are so cute too
--
We're making something beautiful; starting a riot
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