no title
by: Anita
There is this picture on my wall
Painted with flaws and discrepancies.
Now that I hint at its masked facade
I will see nothing but misery;
Deep desire embedded in french lace
A masterpiece in waiting, hidden in shame.
Make haste before the phantoms come
To rip the art with their aged tongues.
Consider for a moment, dear lover of life,
Creation is floating past the face–towards a knife;
Remember this portrait has no purpose but to stare
Back at the wall that I put there.
August
by: Sandslash
Insecurity sneaks up on me,
pushed closer to the edge,
that i was too afraid to approach.
The light is too bright,
glory's price is much too high.
The road is ahead,
the first steps are always mine.
Oh, but now will I falter,
will i fall before i have begun?
Answers only lie ahead.
August is the beginning of the year.
Winter
by: Gaelin
It was raining that night.
Death tiptoed in,
Out of the folds of darkness,
With his palette of
blues,
violets,
and grays.
He left a shell of you,
As pale and fragile as a lily.
I awoke the next morning; alone.
Carefully, I sat next to you and
Hesitantly touched your forehead.
I ran my fingers over your
eyebrows,
eyelids,
cheek bones,
nose,
and lips
To remember you.
You felt like cold wax,
And never looked so perfect.
I stayed with you for more than an hour
Before waking mom and dad.
Eleven years old, you were
three years my senior,
my beloved hero,
and my only friend.
I never thought I'd be without
My older brother.