ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
There's frost on the ground.
It creates for my heart a wintry crown.
Lady Winter runs her fingers through
My hair and leaves lip imprints of blue
On my cheek.
Intrepid eyes of my pallid lover
Lead me through frostbitten paths to discover
My soul is chaotic as a blizzard.
But in your chilled breath, I am delivered
With your song whispered meek.
Scintillating in the thawed skies,
Crystallized blessings cascade down to baptize
Me in this snowy throne room.
Together, my sorrow we entomb.
I adore your flawless physique.
December, I pray your reign never end.
Even still, your impression will never descend.
Down to my marrow, I feel you forever with me
I hope you can see
You have left in me nothing bleak.
It creates for my heart a wintry crown.
Lady Winter runs her fingers through
My hair and leaves lip imprints of blue
On my cheek.
Intrepid eyes of my pallid lover
Lead me through frostbitten paths to discover
My soul is chaotic as a blizzard.
But in your chilled breath, I am delivered
With your song whispered meek.
Scintillating in the thawed skies,
Crystallized blessings cascade down to baptize
Me in this snowy throne room.
Together, my sorrow we entomb.
I adore your flawless physique.
December, I pray your reign never end.
Even still, your impression will never descend.
Down to my marrow, I feel you forever with me
I hope you can see
You have left in me nothing bleak.
Literature
Fifty
Please understand: I do not want
to want this (you).
I realized at poem nineteen-of-fifty:
You (college-borne) are a new you,
I (weaponized) am a new me,
and the new me still wants the new you.
Literature
Still
He was waking or he was falling asleep, neither, both at once. This was a dream. This was the only thing he had ever known. It made no difference, he trailed his own body like ripples after a rock, smoothing and breaking and smoothing again.
His feet moved tirelessly, without thought. No longer human, only the Walk was real. For minutes, or for months; time was fluid and distant. Walk.
He broke and a low mountain pulled him forward. Smoothed. Broke into flatlands, into shallow water. Into the evening, into the weak dawn.
Smoothed, back into the soft yellow lights behind his eyes. Walk.
****
He was not alone. This thought came from his bo
Literature
bitter hug of mortality
so you sit there,
your awkward little hands folding awkward little birds,
as if you could inhale your own paper wings.
so you sit there,
and you think
about you watching the people and the people
not watching you.
and i whisper darling,
darling the only thing you're good for
is reading walt whitman out loud
to your used-to-be-white walls
until your throat chips, and your eyes dust over.
and you just shift your weight
and shake your head
like something
buzzed in your ear.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
© 2012 - 2024 ThomasInTheClouds
Comments3
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Aloha! Just a little note to say I’ve used the title of this piece to help me create a title poem which you can read here: madameshadowenn.deviantart.com…
I’ve given you full credit in the comments section, but should you want me to remove your title, please do let me know!
I’ve given you full credit in the comments section, but should you want me to remove your title, please do let me know!