Not really poetry, but closer to poetry than fanfic. I'm clumping a few together since they're pretty short. I use a lot of symbolism, so if you'd like any explained just ask.
Infinite
I found stars in your eyes and for a second they struck me, hard like the fall I took on my way to find you. Lights flickered behind you in the bearded barley. They floated endlessly, surrounding you in a veil of angel’s dust. For a moment you seemed infinite. Silver crystals fell from you as thick as gold and as light as feathers and as beautiful as diamonds, but they disappeared on their way back to nothingness. You were there. Just as you always had been. Hidden in the background. Watching ever so closely. Careful not to step too close that I may hear your heart beating. You would follow closely. Unheard. Unseen. Unneeded. Until the moment I should fall, and then you were but a breath away.
Infidelity
Fidelity is a hard color for a fool to wear. He will hold it in his hand like smoke and watch as the the wind carries it away. As if its ashes smell of young cinnamon, he will follow it blindly and only while it pleases him. Though soon everything will begin to smell the same, and fresh mint will draw him elsewhere.
Diamonds to Ash
There are countless ruins and charred trees and yet people would walk atop diamonds to reduce them to ashes. I’ll take Pompeii over a El Dorado. There is so much more to learn and appreciate from pain than perfection.“
The Rose and the Mushroom
A stone was thrown into the water where she sat.
She watched a mushroom grow on one side of the river, and on the other side a rose.
Drawn to the rose, it intrigued her. A brilliant red hue, she wanted to be her...who wouldn't?
But it was just a reflection of the mushroom. She was awed by it's beauty.
He saved her, but she was blinded by the hallucinations that it gave her.
Toxic. Nausious. No good. It would break her. Weather her smooth and shape her.
It would shake her, and she'd lose herself in the ripples again.
She had seen what she wanted to be...but who really wants to be a rose?
They bleed. You can find beauty in finer things. She's not a stone, but a woman.
She'd been drawn to the deep with words and faul-play.
Just a game that'd been made for fun.
No harm done. No shame.
"Try her shoes?"
"...but they're scuffed and bruised."
"Buy them new...?"
"They'd rub raw."
"Then who knows where they will take her..."
"Do you know?"
"Not at all."
The Oyster is the Key
alt so pure I can feel it in my bones, see it in the air
Reflective beauty, a canvas we are not meant understand.
Can I be by the ocean one last time? I'd like that.
To see the tides washing crushed shells in easy motion.
Blasting sound of the waves? Never ending moon calls?
Starry nights and cool sand? Sea weed holding me to low tides?
Mermaids dancing in endless rotation, pearl dust on their scales?
"The oyster is the key" he once explained.
Many years past. Who was he again?
He never told me what door to unlock and where I could find it.
How can I get there? From the windows of this room
Cold and white, it seems impossible. There is only brick.
Perhaps he meant for me to know or said it once before
And like my daughter I lost it in the pages of musty books,
Bent pictures stored away in old shoe boxes, edges burnt.
Faces taken off and charred black. You would think I'd remember.
"The oyster is the key." Yes. I know.
"The oyster is the key." Yes, yes. I know.
Infinite
I found stars in your eyes and for a second they struck me, hard like the fall I took on my way to find you. Lights flickered behind you in the bearded barley. They floated endlessly, surrounding you in a veil of angel’s dust. For a moment you seemed infinite. Silver crystals fell from you as thick as gold and as light as feathers and as beautiful as diamonds, but they disappeared on their way back to nothingness. You were there. Just as you always had been. Hidden in the background. Watching ever so closely. Careful not to step too close that I may hear your heart beating. You would follow closely. Unheard. Unseen. Unneeded. Until the moment I should fall, and then you were but a breath away.
Infidelity
Fidelity is a hard color for a fool to wear. He will hold it in his hand like smoke and watch as the the wind carries it away. As if its ashes smell of young cinnamon, he will follow it blindly and only while it pleases him. Though soon everything will begin to smell the same, and fresh mint will draw him elsewhere.
Diamonds to Ash
There are countless ruins and charred trees and yet people would walk atop diamonds to reduce them to ashes. I’ll take Pompeii over a El Dorado. There is so much more to learn and appreciate from pain than perfection.“
The Rose and the Mushroom
A stone was thrown into the water where she sat.
She watched a mushroom grow on one side of the river, and on the other side a rose.
Drawn to the rose, it intrigued her. A brilliant red hue, she wanted to be her...who wouldn't?
But it was just a reflection of the mushroom. She was awed by it's beauty.
He saved her, but she was blinded by the hallucinations that it gave her.
Toxic. Nausious. No good. It would break her. Weather her smooth and shape her.
It would shake her, and she'd lose herself in the ripples again.
She had seen what she wanted to be...but who really wants to be a rose?
They bleed. You can find beauty in finer things. She's not a stone, but a woman.
She'd been drawn to the deep with words and faul-play.
Just a game that'd been made for fun.
No harm done. No shame.
"Try her shoes?"
"...but they're scuffed and bruised."
"Buy them new...?"
"They'd rub raw."
"Then who knows where they will take her..."
"Do you know?"
"Not at all."
The Oyster is the Key
alt so pure I can feel it in my bones, see it in the air
Reflective beauty, a canvas we are not meant understand.
Can I be by the ocean one last time? I'd like that.
To see the tides washing crushed shells in easy motion.
Blasting sound of the waves? Never ending moon calls?
Starry nights and cool sand? Sea weed holding me to low tides?
Mermaids dancing in endless rotation, pearl dust on their scales?
"The oyster is the key" he once explained.
Many years past. Who was he again?
He never told me what door to unlock and where I could find it.
How can I get there? From the windows of this room
Cold and white, it seems impossible. There is only brick.
Perhaps he meant for me to know or said it once before
And like my daughter I lost it in the pages of musty books,
Bent pictures stored away in old shoe boxes, edges burnt.
Faces taken off and charred black. You would think I'd remember.
"The oyster is the key." Yes. I know.
"The oyster is the key." Yes, yes. I know.
