Light filters in, Like soft thorns on her skin. She slips it through her fingers, Imagining it a ribbon Winding round her hand So she can bring down the sky and it’s stars. She listens to the wind And imagines feathers on her back, To fly up with the ravens And greet the moon as…
My world is made of paper
My world is made of paper, A drop of ink for a soul, An ocean lies within my heart; Waves of words to make me whole.
Some Old Lover’s Ghost
Oh, I long to talk to some old lover’s ghost, To learn a little bit of what it’s like to fly with angels, So in love you think you see Heaven. Oh, how I wish to see looks of love and malice- So twisted and rotten that I can no longer tell the difference- Hatred…
You’d be a fool to think Heaven and I are close. I may be one Hell of an angel, But don’t let these white wings fool you- I am but a dove-feathered raven Flying far from grace.
This place is full of ghosts. They exist in the gloomy light of Corpse-coloured candles In those dark cottage walls, Lingering with a ghoulish fondness. I find myself drawn to remain also. Perhaps these melancholy ruins offer More than fear; They invite somber reflections- Reflections of the living as well as the dead- And I…