The lonely stones by the sea,
The grim concrete,
The crumbling wall,
On which I fall.
The eyes of danger,
The blade of a knife,
A forgotten treasure,
A forgotten life.
A hand that lies,
On the grey ground,
A pale ashen skin tone,
Of the body waiting to be found.
The splash of crimson,
Flowing from his heart,
Streaking his ashen skin,
A warning to remember,
Colours from a scene.
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Little white frosts, Cling to the macabre scene... Trying to make it purer To cover up what's been. But not even snow can cover it. The bloods too much to bare.
#ColourChallenge Ice blue where her eyes, to match the bitter cold of her soul. She was host to the bleakest winter, as the warmth from the sun he stole.
(Found this that I started ages ago so thought I'd finish it). The knife punctures through. A heart that was pure and true. It stabs right in there. Piercing without a care. Then someone comes along.
#colourchallenge. Snow white skin. Hides her sin. Enchanting eyes. Blindfold the lies. Soft words she speaks. Masks the evil she'll beseech. Hands so soft and gentle. Yet to others so detrimental.
When no breeze rustles The lush summer leaves And the suffocating heat hangs Among the trees, I want to take you for a gentle stroll, Along the river, to a place I know, Where a dirty old sheet Hangs...
When shadows become silhouettes, It's your mind playing with regrets. Those dark memories, darker still, Replaying, over and over, that last kill.
The bedroom smelt of sex and smoke, Of old cigars and passions broke. A broken bucket by the wall, Tangled sheets to break a fall. A splash of red against the bed, A book discarded, yet unread.
This one is a little more abstract than most of my poems, but I was trying something new. #colourchallenge S-ee me rise. Alive. Awake.
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