A Tale Whispered Beneath Raggedy Breathes

There is a tale,

Of weaved words,

That died,

Before reaching my trembling lips.

A cold tale that creeps,

Through the faint open doors,

Of my eyes.

A tale, suppressed,

Begging me, sometimes you.

A tale, crippled,

In dire need for its voice.

A tale of dancing words,

Embracing each other,

In their open arms.

A tale,

Stripped of words,

Yet filled to brim,

With confused affection.

A tale,

Diffusing through the air,

Like a faint scent,

Of spring morning.

The scent,

Without words,

But with pleasure,

That creeps through the pores,

Of our open skin.

A tale of wonders,

Of secrets that can’t be hid,

Despite persistent cloaking.

A tale of unyielding storm,

A tale,


Beneath raggedy breathes,

By you,


By me.


Via Daily Prompt: Explore

Pause, Breathe



Look behind those closed doors,

Can you?

Strip yourself

Of the sleep embracing your soul.

Now, naked,

Without your ego,

Look again.

Behind the closed door.

Listen to the gentle drizzle,

To the loud rattles of thunder,

In contrast to

The dull thud of water

Against mud.

Can you see now?



Embrace the grandeur

Of Mother Nature.

Embrace the cycle of decay,

Of life.

All of it,

Like beads on a string.

All that we toy with.

One bead, cracked,

Shifts the balance of life.




Via Daily Prompt: Radiant

An Ephemeral Love

There you were,

Hidden behind

The veil of insecurity,

Beautiful in the eyes of a renegade,

Stripped of judgement,

From all the lies of appearances.

But, on the edge of acceptance,

On the verge of evolving into a recepient,

Of all evil that progress stands for,

You were hesitant.

And in that brief moment of question,

You did become mine,

If only for an ephemeral moment,

I did find you,

Even though

You were soon to be forgotten.


Via Daily Prompt: Toxic

I Am A Demon

Embracing the aberrant denial,

Let me create my own lies,

For I am a demon,

Deprived of your mercy.

Carry on, my dearest,

I’m just a passerby,

Who is listening to your tale of wonders,

To your tale of frantic desires.

And even though, there isn’t any voice,

In the world that resonates with me,

Carry on my dearest,

For I’m just a passerby.

Through the trees,

The southern winds will embrace me,

Through the faded red,

The rising sun will guide me home,

Carry on my dearest,

For I am just a passerby.

Carry on, for I’ll be at peace,

In the hues of setting gray,

Away from the light.

For I am a passing demon,

Staring at its frantic reflection,

In the crystalline coast of life.

Questionable Sanity

On certain days,

It is easier to be,

To exist, burning hopes

To the scintillating life.

But their exists a vacancy,

Or maybe a forever lingering presence,

Of fleeting moments,

Of questionable sanity,

When it is the equivalent

Of swallowing sharp stones.

The days when looking at your own reflection

In the mirror, becomes evident

Of staring in the eyes of a stranger.

Those days,

They are just too much for some,

And for some,

It is the chaos in which they exist,

The questionable sanity

In which their fluttering heart

Stays still.