Reach out to aching arms. They’re not hidden in the dark or covered in riddles like the poets like to paint. So just reach out like heroes do. Rescue more than broken bones and bleeding lips. I miss you already. All you have to do is reach for aching arms that carry the world on paper shoulders. Time is not on your side; he knows what you did and mocks me for outstretched arms. Reach out before things more vulnerable than arms give out. Noah_arkenswagg
Be still my thoughts, for they’re all the same. At rest, dear mind, you already know their kind: easy to trust, easy to love, so they light the match and to dust you return. Be still, my heart. Another mistake is good for the pen. The cut is shallow, the ink won’t last. Shall we begin? Noah_arkenswagg
“All in!”, I said, then pushed my heart right into the middle of the table. The opponent smiled and pushed theirs in as well. The game was afoot and she literally kicked me beneath the table as a distraction, followed by giggling and laughter that threatened the candle-lit game.
Then I woke up. Clenching my chest and checking for a gaping hole. Sigh. A dream… and yet I still feel empty. Noah_arkenswagg
I wore my heart on my sleeve. You can see the fingers poking out where they shouldn’t be. I bore honesty like a badge; bullseye for all to see. They lost nothing when they struck, having no skin in the game. Am I a fool? I trusted the snake to guard the egg, and now we’re both mouth agape, but only one is smiling. Noah_arkenswagg
They wonder if love is real and if they’ll find it:
Back when Ma got love letters and post cards and tear drops were as valid as ink, was love real? When giggling voices would twirl telephone cords while listening to vocal cords that melted hearts, was love real?
The effort’s all gone, true faces hidden as boom boxes died. The consequences went out the window with a swipe and 5g powered games the heart can’t keep up with. Is love real? Will you find it? Dont ask Noah_arkenswagg
The one movies glorify. The one songs paint a wild shade of pink. I’d like the kind Shakespeare wrote. Maybe a bit of what kindled the hearts of Greek heroes. They call it love. But I speak of the unconditional kind. The kind you only hear about. Do you have it? Noah_arkenswagg
What kind of sleep takes away pain that is deep? How many sheep will you count when you weep? Learned to hide in my mind, just to avoid the scars on my hide. “I love sleep”, is all I’m saying; freedom in pillows where none can peep. Noah_arkenswagg
There are words that turn back time. Three little words that push back pain. Mankind has forgotten these words; gifts of the tongue that heal without scars. They’ve taken on pride and ego, and like a scarf, they choke themselves with fervour. Will you remind them? Or shall we let the cycle of revenge teach them? If you choose the latter, I shall be it’s envoy. I will teach them what their little games have birthed. I will introduce them to karma and show them no escape in a world as small as ours. That time will deliver them when they least expect it. They may smile today, but tomorrow, they will taste pain in all shades of the rainbow. Noah_arkenswagg
I have seen the devil. She likes sweets and is prettier than the sunset. I loved her smile, so she led me to the banquet. There I died, far away from the sunset. The light is gone, and the monster is born. If you see my horn and hear the bellow of orn, then you’ve heard the sound light makes, when it gives in to the dark. Noah_arkenswagg
Is this too much for you? Has hope blinded you to the realities? Is summer love all you know even in the winter? When hands trembled and eyes were wet, did you think i forgot about love? No… for even in the dark, i am Noah_arkenswagg.
noah_arkenswagg
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