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things to know, if they spark an inkling of interest, about horrendezvous

 

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the heart that died | back to top

 

something has stopped her from wondering,

wander she still does, for she is lost,

tangled in a web of bewilderment, her heart

broken amidst confusion, she is

caught in a lie told herself, that life

is merry and rainbow's to come after rainfall,

no bliss in her eyes, no tears left to cry,

her heart has died..

for her heart to ache means she could feel,

for her eyes to water signifies she could hurt,

for her arms to embrace shows she could hold on

to something real, to someone dear,

for her feet to walk away means she could summon

the courage to refuse to hurt anymore,

but for her to feel nothing anywhere,

for bliss not to appear in the shadow of her gaze,

for a mist of sorrow to merely pass by,

her heart has died..

 

self-portrait | back to top

 

whiteness of the walls

the redness of hue reflected

blades cut the crisp air

fast and precise

bloody yet painless

immobilized and motionless

bitter and forlorn

in sorrow, in mock happiness

not unlike a sulking child

braving nonchalance

innocently, unknowing, uncalled-for ego

sleep, sleep she wants,

eyes open, breathless, silence..

 

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