image source: pinterest.com

my eyes have weep

the snow’s saltwater,

.

it trickles down,

down,

down

down,

.

to the hollow of my skin,

sneaks into the crevices of my ribcage

.

washes away the thorns

of a woman trapped within

the remnants of her heartaches

.

the memories of her melt

slipping down on the surface

of my silky ivory bones

.

fade with the echoes of time

on the path of what is to come,

.

where flowers burgeon

under the blushing dawn

.

— in which she cannot follow

and I will bloom.

.

.

.

p.s:

Remember, sometimes the burdens that weigh us down are not ours to carry.

And it’s okay to let them go. It’s okay to live for ourselves.

--

--

An old piece

source: hemingsways.tumblr.com

The sun rises in the East

The girl is here

And the girl is not

.

Playing hide and seek

Running

And hiding

Behind the walls

.

Laughing under a piano

Smirking behind a curtain

Waiting

and waiting

.

Clock ticking

Faster heartbeat

.

The sun sets in the West

And no one is coming.

--

--

An old piece

source: canva.com

On a cold bed

Under a grey thick blanket

Hugging a pink pillow

Pieces of sunlight on the walls

.

In this limited peaceful time

Birds get too fussy

Carping nonsense

People get too fussy

Saying desperate words

In high-pitched voices

.

So impatient to kiss the war.

.

.

.

.

.

How rude. Oh, how rude.

Says an old veteran

With prosthetic eyes

Unable to see

This limited peaceful time

.

.

.

.

p.s. I think I wrote this in high school? Anyways, it’s always refreshing to see a forgotten style I used to do (even the lame ones), like finding a piece of myself that is already buried somewhere. I hope you will find yours too.

--

--

I was in the middle of screaming at my imaginary self on the tv screen in an imaginary reality show of not-so reality show when the sun went up, up, up, shone through the window glass and scorching my skin until it melted on the leather couch in the living room, leaving it all sweaty and slick but my mind was too slow and then I was already slipping before long. Spent 15 minutes falling cause I had swallowed the script and I forgot the lines with my tongue that was too numb and my eyes that were too dry —

— consternation spilled from their eyes to the floor and I lapped it all up until I crashed from this lemon soda high and the ringing metal of my bones echoed through the room and cut! —

— the sun finally goes down.

--

--

The end of me begins with you

and death is the birth of us.

.

Red is all you are,

scattered, in my frozen embrace.

.

It was lost upon my foolish mind,

until you find your sharpest edge,

and drink the sky’s lamentation

as you split it apart like an orange.

.

Dawn has come,

and I will not be spared.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I beg of you.

--

--

Tasya Taranusyura

Tasya Taranusyura

Every night, my friend, Crow croaks, “I no want eat your corpse.”