"Afraid.
Anxious.
Depressed.
Romantic.
Loving.
Love."
"Til death,
do you part. And in sickness and in
health, forever you should be together.
Amen."
"I do."
----
Canvase
by the ocean blue skies,
a balcony above the watery misery of
salt and of misfourtane, a girl
the age of sixteen, stands,
mystefied by Earth's pleasures
and Earth's misfourtane.
Not quite shrouded in darkness,
but yet not quite covered in light.
Nor is she covered by the devil
or by Heaven's angel.
A canvase,
unwilling, unpeturbed, unprestigious,
unknown, and unkempt, she attempts
to draw an abigious character,
and a sure women of age and of love,
and with words, unknown,
with words unspoken,
and love unoccupied, she writes,
in her kempt handwriting and her
molten fire skin, does she write, with a burning passion,
"Til love do us part."
And as she ponders her own thoughts,
suicide and life,
and death, and homicide,
what shall she choose?
Then she stands closer,
to the edge, of Earth's,
she unwillingly, takes a bible,
takes a blade,
and recalls what she heard at her
best friend's wedding.
"Til Death Do We Part."
And love,
and depression
and sickness,
and romance,
and sadness,
and tears,
love shall not tear us apart like a piece of
paper.
A canvase,
unkempt,
a character ambigious,
words unnatural.
Love occupied.
Why must death tear us apart?
Why can't
Love
tear you apart?
Like it does,
why should death have all the fun?
A blue canvase,
a blackened character and
a shadowy figure, words
again begin to tempt her.
---
"Til love do you part,
til sadness claimes,
and depression hurts,
shall suicide stand.
Shall death not take you're relationship apart."
Death...
---
And with a final glance back;
a knife burning the side of her throat,
death did not tear us apart.
Perhapes love for another
has taken my life?
Has taken our relationship?
A blank canvase,
a blank picture.
Just a regular old room.
But words torn into her skin...
"Til love do us part."
Anxious.
Depressed.
Romantic.
Loving.
Love."
"Til death,
do you part. And in sickness and in
health, forever you should be together.
Amen."
"I do."
----
Canvase
by the ocean blue skies,
a balcony above the watery misery of
salt and of misfourtane, a girl
the age of sixteen, stands,
mystefied by Earth's pleasures
and Earth's misfourtane.
Not quite shrouded in darkness,
but yet not quite covered in light.
Nor is she covered by the devil
or by Heaven's angel.
A canvase,
unwilling, unpeturbed, unprestigious,
unknown, and unkempt, she attempts
to draw an abigious character,
and a sure women of age and of love,
and with words, unknown,
with words unspoken,
and love unoccupied, she writes,
in her kempt handwriting and her
molten fire skin, does she write, with a burning passion,
"Til love do us part."
And as she ponders her own thoughts,
suicide and life,
and death, and homicide,
what shall she choose?
Then she stands closer,
to the edge, of Earth's,
she unwillingly, takes a bible,
takes a blade,
and recalls what she heard at her
best friend's wedding.
"Til Death Do We Part."
And love,
and depression
and sickness,
and romance,
and sadness,
and tears,
love shall not tear us apart like a piece of
paper.
A canvase,
unkempt,
a character ambigious,
words unnatural.
Love occupied.
Why must death tear us apart?
Why can't
Love
tear you apart?
Like it does,
why should death have all the fun?
A blue canvase,
a blackened character and
a shadowy figure, words
again begin to tempt her.
---
"Til love do you part,
til sadness claimes,
and depression hurts,
shall suicide stand.
Shall death not take you're relationship apart."
Death...
---
And with a final glance back;
a knife burning the side of her throat,
death did not tear us apart.
Perhapes love for another
has taken my life?
Has taken our relationship?
A blank canvase,
a blank picture.
Just a regular old room.
But words torn into her skin...
"Til love do us part."
-Please comment. I'm not quite sure if this is good or not? Any suggestions?
