poetry haiku philosophical ใ‚ฎใ‚ฟใƒผ

Joined May 2021
Doe-eyed and wolf-hearted
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๐“๐ก๐ž ๐‚๐š๐ ๐ž๐ ๐Š๐ž๐ฒ Lady of the Fae laments from her cell, singing in a voice stirring as a bell. Lyrics like hoarfrost sliding between tarry bars, music mixing with the manโ€™s spirit, who has locked himself inside his bars. Melodious metamorphosis begins, awakening a predator within, veins bulging beneath the skin. His pearl-like claws bend iron bars, wrought by his own free will. Groaning like a giantโ€™s moan, the breaking draws the Ladyโ€™s stare. No fearโ€” she fixes him with a daring glare. Caught by her doe-eyed gaze, he rips his hair, seeking to free her from the gelatinous lair. Lunging toward her cage, pale fingers probe the lock. The keyholesโ€™ ooze resists his forceโ€” resin so cold, as though itโ€™s hot. Lady Fae lowers her face to the hole and stretches out her hand, fingertip dripping with tarโ€” he reaches with ivory claws. The two touch; light and dark expand into a velvet lightning cloud. Heโ€™s struckโ€” claws retract and he withdraws his hand. Turning his back to the Lady of the Fae, heโ€™s once again a man. Her voice, resounding in sorrow, only echoes in the chamber of her bars. Deaf to her music, Fae forgotten, he walks back inside his cell and sits.
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nothing is more quiet than two people who have already said everything
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Today is National Black Cat Day.
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๐Ÿ–ค๐Ÿ–ค๐Ÿ–ค
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tuesday is just monday leaving the body
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Wide awake Counting wolves
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โ€œI'm half agony, half hope." โ€” Jane Austen
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i stay out the way on purpose.
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rain does not ask where it is falling it just arrives wet and sudden like your name on my tongue
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i am too human for what i feel.
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the honest darkness of 5 AM.
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You'll find me staring out the window, cheek resting against breath's misted glass.
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"I usually solve problems by letting them devour me."
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ruin there is something obscene about the way you sit there, all that ink and skin, your face hidden like the rest of you isn't already a confession. i want to know what carved your edges. what put those flowers beside the dead things, what kind of violence wears a woman's skin and looks that fucking innocent. i have never been good at wanting gently. i see those tattooed thighs and think of religion, not the kind that saves, the kind that makes men crave hell. i want the mouth behind that fucking phone, the trouble in your eyes, the parts of you that learned to bite before they learned to trust. and if there is a devil beneath all that beautiful ink, tell her to come out. i have spent my whole life making peace with monsters. i'd rather meet yours with teeth bared.
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in the mood to say things that would get me fired
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please keep your hands where i can enjoy them
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