He Loved Her...
Nearly to death
Can't speak yet she hasn't forgotten how to think Can't feel yet she still knows what is real Cornered she just cowers Tallying the hours until she's free Struggling in darkness to find the key's grace That will relieve her from this suffocating embrace
She's almost dead, you see? He couldn't say "I love you" enough But his kisses were always rigid And his hugs were always rough
Pinned to the floor She couldn't tell which way was up anymore Nearly empty, he still ran with her cup and proceeded to pour For she was only alive the moment they met He just took a snapshot Then quickly forgot it wasn't him She was only ever an object to absorb If it meant she never left him, he'd proudly steal her last breath He loved her, you see, nearly to death...
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Nichole Campbell and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Orchard
The Orchard In the orchards where my childish dreams would unfurl I'd wander in awe, still a carefree girl Beneath the boughs where apples hung like jewels I found solace in nature's timeless rules Beside the creek, I'd watch the water caress the pebbles as butterflies danced on air I'd plant myself right there Apples crisp and tart, a gift from nature's hand A juicy red, more brilliant than any ruby in the land In those moments, life was sweet and slow Each apple a memory, with each bite, I'd grow Simple joys, in simplicity I’d find In apples alone, my smile would shine Though years have passed and times have changed In memories, my childhood dreams remain A taste of innocence, a sip of days gone by This simple gift, the apple of my eye
By Nichole Campbell2 months ago in Poets
A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli4 days ago in Poets
Comments (2)
So heartbreaking and scary!
Fantastic story! 🇮🇱