LyriqueTragedy's profile

The moon laughs. She knows who you are: Actaeon shredded by your desire to dominate. The sucking in my chest is wet, blood filled, metallic life flooding the void. Wells of emotion run dry, too; empty and black, hollow but for the blood. Candles can’t sate the darkness between us, so we devour the dead-- consume an innocent bystander to our private war. Gutted and stuffed like the straw man You set me up to be. Huddled around the carcass made pretty with rosemary and cloves-- does it help you...

I want you to cry, balled up with an ache that thuds, slowly abusing you from the inside. A hollow groan of emptiness that rots in your stomach and soul reminding you of what you gave away, paralysis that catches your memory like a brain freeze, every time the radio clicks on-- your happy beats like a chiffon blanket in the snow. I want you to cry, your salty tears like balm for my wounds. Prescient knowledge that your life's a sieve, that nothing remains. An agonizing want each time you look...

Veiled illusion, out of reach, touching the darkness with fingers long and smooth. Here then gone, always one comforting, elusive embrace away. Floods of color, curves and faces. Voices linger only half heard. Just as fingers wind around and through you, pale fingers of dawn rip you away.

How can I describe the beauty of you When words can’t pass lips spent from your kisses? How can my fist letter that which is true, When my body aches to hold what it misses? Shadows of you plague and comfort at night, Your scent hovers, passes; taunting it flies As swift as it comes. Vacant again, right Back to alone, leaving a wake of sighs. Rare opportunity gives me your voice, Such brightness shadows plain language as bland. In toils of hearts Fate gives little choice, Not whether you fall...

“She will not junk up my home for the holidays with those atrocious things! She can put them in her own home, but this is our home, Michael. Ours. Not hers. You agreed with me when we went to buy the new decorations, and you promised me that you wouldn’t let her waltz into our home and…” Erica stopped suddenly as the distinct sound of hammering filled the kitchen. She had been putting together a cheese tray with pepperoni and intentionally turned back to the island counter surface to place th...