#poeticwriting

Not all merchants of death sell weapons. Some simply let the light die, one candle at a time

‎"I want to touch you", His voice was a mix of exhaustion and want. It was rugged and husky, laced with the desperation of a man on the brink. It didn't matter if they weren't the only one on

‎I never knew what it meant to love someone, to have something other than the subtle feeling of friendship. I never knew what it meant to want to enter into a person's skin, to want to be close to another

‎I was writing today... I was writing about you. Did it really have to end the way it did? I was writing and realized it ended without actually ending. It all happened one beautiful day and you stopped

Tell me, what do you see? What do you see when your eyes flutter open? Tell me what you think of me? Different sides of the same coin, yet here we are, alone on another side of the world, with noone else

The birds were chirping and he could hear them sing from where he sat. On a wooden bench, surrounded by overgrown weeds. They were a mix of different beautiful flowers and he wondered just how unwanted

‎Would you like to come with me, my princess? I couldn't stop myself from taking several glimpses at you. From your hair to your eyes, and the curve of your jaw, to the pink of your lips. I couldn't deny

In my mind’s eye, I float above the clouds, Far above the strife and conflict below. Serenely I glide in a sunlit shroud; Filled with all the peace and love that I know. ☼ Keeping the noise and strife

Many times I’ve stood at the banks of the Columbia River with an eye of sorrow as vehicles rush by just past the ditch. Deadwood at the shoreline, floating down-stream. Somedays the algae foams sickly