Restless Nights

749 spots

749 spots i have counted 

On the walls in my room,

Staring into the dim 

Moon lit room.
My mind is stirred

And my vision at times blurred

And yet sleep evades me.
I toss and turn

Starboard and Stern

And yet no dreams occur.
163 lines

163 lines I have counted

In the grain of my ceiling

Some big

 and some small

Yet I can’t fall,

Into a deep sleep.

These restless nights,

May turn my plights

Into my inner fights

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Distanced Days

Who knew

That so few 

Moments could feel

Evervescent and outstretched

That it could have you will

That TIME…
For all that we know

Could stop.

So that it could last

But last it won’t

…Time does not

Shift for men

And the heart may stop

Time for that moment

May last a lifetime

And when without

Whether the heart wants

Or not

Time distances itself

And mere minutes may become days

And days could become seconds.

Hi everyone, so I guess we all know this feeling. Where time seems not what it may be. I know my writing style is at times hard to follow, but it my style. I wish to dedicate this to my partner in crime, my opposite, the half that completes me. 

I know it is cheesy, but again, thats me.


To all who read, I say thank you. 

Please also check out 

@Vagabond Traders- reneisance history

@MyBella- Sweet DIY fun

@Museofmylife- Brilliant poetry

@Sweetrdesiresandcolourfullies- sweet imagery

Glass Bodies

Like glass

You seen before me

Clear and easy to understand

Yet fragile and breakable

And yet you seem so strong

But you are fragile inside

With crystal clear vision

And yet you can be alluring

Like a mosaic frame

Or a catholic church window.

You shed light on many during the brightest days

And yet you provide no light to those in the darkest of nights.

You seem cold and harsh,

Yet you can shield many from brutal winds.

With a body of glass, 

Not just yours,

But mine as well.

We are different bodies,

Yet we are made the same.

Our bodies of glass

Only change with our purpose,

We have a purpose and yet it can be alot, or it can be few.

But think of what our glass bodies can do.

The collection

You had asked me sweetly

If i would ever so clearly

Let you write my poems down

For you to keep.
I refused to let you write

And yet I said I’ll do it 

With all my might

I’ll rewrite
And started I did

From some of my first ones

And yet the memories come flooding

Like a wave of endless tides.
I have started to lose myself 

And with my forgotten poems now at hand

I remember where I am.
I thank you for letting me rewrite

My poems

My past

My life

Slowly we Dance

We have sat for hours

Not a word’s been said,

Yet your embrace is what i crave

Even if our discussions are dead.
I slowly rise

And take your hand,

Yet you seem hesitant

Slow to take a stand.
“It’s fine.” I urge

And pull you close

Afraid to let you slip away.

As we slowly start to sway.
You relax into my arms

And we dance along

Slowly we dance into the night

Even if all doesnt seem right.

Crimson Tears

Scarred lines

Vivid signs

Trails of tears

I left behind.
Scarred signs,

These lines of mine,

Trails stretching

Longer and longer.
Crimson tears

Gather at my sides

My thoughts and heart collides

While I’m numb inside.
These crimson tears

Filled with my fears,

Trailing away

Till in darkness I stay.

A Man Now Lost

Stumbling

the man cried out in vain

as his world seemed to collapse

under the strain

from his mental state

as the pain

of a chipping heart

lead him on.

 

Once, twice and three times more

he said things he regretted more

and still his heart,

broken and bruised

from what he said

still ensured

that his mistakes would plague

his shattered mind.

 

The man spoken of

had cried out in pain

as he kept hurting

what had remained.

 

He pleaded and begged

for things to heal

a plea that was crushed

under life’s heel.

 

and now as he stood before deaths door

he wondered if she would break him down more.

 

Tried as she might,

the man seemed pleased,

as he fell for death

who seized his heart

not knowing that

he had already fallen apart.

 

since meeting death

the man was restored

she treated him well

even if he didnt deserve it anymore.

he tried to repay her favour

and tried treating her better

but failure was all

he couldn’t do better.

 

He hurt death as he did with life before

and so he stood again

at another door,

scared, broken, and heartless

hoping to hurt no one more.