Versey❦admin

even after death I will make flowers sprout from my skeleton for you, a perennial, my bones acting as roots, the winters won't kill what blooms from me for you.

I was always put second. not last last means no effort, and no effort is too easy for you. second means you counted. second means I watched. second means you thought of me. and still chose me after.

a moth to a flame, you say my name and I turn. you call it love, this burning. but you were never the fire, only the hand above it tilting the candle, letting wax fall where I stood. and now beneath you, I harden not ash, but something buried, fossilized in what ...Read more →

in the depths of your eyes, I lose touch with the dark thoughts in my mind. to stare at a cosmos so close, to be pulled into the singularity of your deep umber eyes that is what I intend to do. like stardust I found myself circling, pulling my soul in a drunken orbit

I planted my heart in soil that does not birth life, watered it with every glance you almost returned, and still I knelt there, waiting for something to break the surface not knowing if you are the sun, or just a passing light I mistook for warmth…

Starry night. Your memory burns like noon. I can’t sleep through the light. You need to leave soon

it was thy love that kept my lantern lit, thy warmth that carried me through these cryptic nights, when the dark pressed close and I had no candle of my own, thou wert the flame I borrowed, and by thee I found my way to morning.

Your love is a spinning web, that ebbs and woos, I could get caught and to be fair,I hope I never get loose, Your love is given and I will take, But I'm gonna be greedy, so know what's at stake... I'll wrap myself in its threads, like a cocoon in the night, And let your love transform me, into a butterfly in flight, I'll drink in every drop, like a thirsty soul in the night, And let your love consume me like a fire that's burning bright...

I'm a tortured poet writing from the inks of my despair The breath of my demons that ponder inside my skull are popping thoughts intrusively like popcorn in a microwave Eating these popped kernels is making me malnourished but if it's kettle corn I will devour the popcorn like it's my first time tasting such sweetness - movie time??

my phone rests in my hand like a small lantern, I have learned to measure hours by your notifications, my days are as dark as my screen when you go quiet.

You brewed a storm, you called it an upbringing from trauma, handed it down like an heirloom you swore you’d never pass on. You named the weather your own and made me stand in it, called the flood discipline, called the cold a lesson. I learned your sky by heart when the quiet meant duck, when the calm was just the eye deciding where to land next.

your eyes sit in orbit, and i feel myself drifting into them, i circle you gently like the tides learning the curve of the moon, i caress you like gravity that needs no force, like the night sky carving space for the stars