wishbone

Recycling feelings like old love songs.

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  • wishbone 104w

    Under high ceilings and strobe lights, and waves of ecstasy rippling through the masses
    I was caught between you and him, and I barely even realized

    I barely realized how you reflected me,
    All the nuances of my personality
    Almost shining back at me through the sparkle in your eyes and the breadth of your smile

    I barely realized how your energy pulsed in tandem with mine, how you and I could be the only ones sharing this moment and it would still be the epicenter of euphoria,
    I barely realized how you heightened me, and he dampened me

    It's a curious thing, this concept of morality to which love is subservient
    To how I bubble like a bottle of champagne with you yet how I fall flat like a cheap glass of wine with him
    How you and I could possibly be twin souls, yet never explored.
    ©wishbone

  • wishbone 199w

    Conflict: Pt 2

    You question my insecurity, my lack of faith.
    You question my trust and my belief in you.
    You question me as to why I have one foot on a pedestal, and the other in the dirt, with one hand outstretched in victory and the other poised in submission.
    The answer is that Im conflicted; lost in between thoughts of self worth and thoughts of defeat, walking on a tightrope between self love and self destruction, because I just never seem to be enough.
    Im either too much or too little, too sensitive or too cold, too loving or too shallow, too strong or too stubborn, too quiet or too moody.
    Where does love fit in amidst all this? Where does love fit in amidst this mess of tears and anger and cracked walls and red knuckles?
    Where does love fit in between angry poetry and desperate tears and the subtle temptation of sin?
    Where does love lie between your eyes and your heart, your love and your lust, and at what point do I become enough?
    At what point will I, in my entirety, the living and the damned, be enough to satiate each element of your passion?

    More importantly, at what point will I live beyond my own distaste and disgust?
    At what point will I nullify my anger and quell the stir within my lungs?

    At what point, do I become enough for myself?
    ©wishbone

  • wishbone 199w

    A path lays open before me, one with few thorns and fewer cracks in the road,
    A path beaten by the footsteps of those with the ambition to roam,
    The shadows that hang overhead dull out the hollow light
    Leaving nothing but the glow of what I've lost, and what I am yet to find

    For dreams sprawl across a broken road, like a bridge across thin ice,
    Like the humble halo of the moon, that sweeps and beckons the tide,
    A lighthouse in tumultuous waters, to save a soul from their plight
    For dreams sprawl across broken roads, breathing purpose into life.

    But trivialities are merciless, like a gust of wind that steals your breath,
    Corrupting translucent hope with reminders of duty before death,

    Dreams are infected with doubt, and pool like tar around my feet,
    Anchoring me like the roots of ancient, weathered trees,
    And all those superficial notions and sentiments I used to feel,
    Are silently swept away, like petals in the breeze.

    The path that lays before me, starved of colour and bare,
    Inspires monochrome beauty, despite its pleas to be repaired.

    So I find renewed strength in the continuum of the night,
    Its infinite depth imitates a haunting lullaby.

    ©wishbone

  • wishbone 199w

    I dreamt of you, sitting in the driver's seat as I sat next to you, revelling in how care-free I felt, and how right this was.
    The windows were down and the evening breeze hit us as we cruised down the highway, not another car in sight. Just you, me and the golden lights of the city, blinking in the distance like artificial stars that competed with the ones above.
    I dreamt of the ocean air wafting in, my hair flying in the wind as I gazed out the window at the black waves, not crashing, but kissing the shore. Softly, yet roughly, the way you kissed me.
    The song that played over the speakers was a testament to how much depth this moment carried, a song that reminded you of me, a song that I'd listen to on repeat; for to me, you are the very essence of the song, you're what makes it special.
    I'd sing along, gazing at you as you steered effortlessly, watching a smile pull at your cheeks in that special way it always does, and you'd reach for my thigh with your eyes on the road.
    I dreamt of you, and even in my dreams I know that you and I are a statement, you and I are a special kind of story.

    ©wishbone

  • wishbone 200w

    Conflict: Pt 1

    Biting off the petals of these roses, then watching them go down the drain
    An exodus of red and a purge of pain

    Because I fall in love with impermanence,
    And you're stepping all over my temperaments

    There's paint staining my fingers from trying to blot you out
    But for some goddamn reason, these feelings just won't die down

    And the volume in my heart is just a bit too loud
    For me to even try to block out.
    ©wishbone

  • wishbone 233w

    Am I crazy or just weak
    Am I selfish or deceived
    Am I lost to the stars, anchored to my heart
    Like a fresh, beautiful disease

    Is there more chaos to be wreaked
    More sins to be reaped
    More fear to let shine, right in the limelight,
    Right before the shadows are put to sleep

    And my twisted thoughts and my cracked words
    Are nothing but illusions in this broken world
    And the depth of this glass shows more than I wanna see
    Like the answers to the lies I've been told to believe

    The doubts are real and the fears move slow
    And this fire is darker than what you see below
    And each lie breathes
    As each feeling sinks
    Wishes made on bottles and hearts like pyramids
    Follow each light, before it hides
    And don't you dare blink.


    ©wishbone

  • wishbone 236w

    @writersnetwork

    Artwork does not belong to me.

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    My soul is adorned with flora, bathed in liquid light
    As it feels the silken touch of tranquillity, and is urged to take flight
    For there is not a touch of smoke or fear in the air that I breathe
    Darkness bows in humble surrender, giving way to Peace.

    Crystal graces the surface of my bones, touching a heart in need of paint,
    The paint of the golden elixir that rushes through my veins
    The canvas of my heart is filled with art of a vibrant hue
    And in that moment, I am an ethereal spirit, eager to blossom and bloom.

    ©wishbone

  • wishbone 240w

    Mere words, as nimble and capable as they may be
    Have not the power nor the means
    To adequately convey this sense of breathlessness
    Tinted with the hues of the sunset, bright and blooming, rich and luxuriant
    A type of breathlessness that has a language of its own.

    And I pity myself for my fragility, my vulnerability
    I apologize for my happiness
    For through this track and along this thread
    Those emotions imbued with the sunset have felt as forbidden as written sin.
    Never would one think that emotions of purity and innocence
    Of love and of harmony
    Could give birth to guilt and apprehension
    Fear and anger
    For as long as my memory allows, this feeling of exuberance
    Has been followed by apology
    Apology to myself and to my mind and to the voices that reside
    Within my heart and my head, so chaotic it's almost blinding

    But must I apologize again?
    Because as I slip into a consciousness of a different rhyme and rhythm
    A consciousness begotten from the golden sparks floating in the windows to your soul,
    Apology shall not be tasted by my tongue.
    For the temperament bestowed upon me is one where a plea for excuse of my flawed self is not required,
    And not a word, not a movement, not a thought is out of place,
    Because for once, rationality and frivolity move together, dance together,
    They weave together an image that makes sense and removes doubt
    That brings peace and removes insecurity

    So tell me,
    Must I apologize again?


    ©wishbone

  • wishbone 253w

    They say that the words you leave unspoken bear the greatest truth, and the most honest feeling. The words you keep suppressed in your throat, the ones your tongue dare not speak are the words with the strongest meaning.
    And it's never felt truer.
    For there is no way; not a single chance that heaven or hell might put before me that I would take, to let those razor-edged words through my lips. Because now it has crossed that one barbed-wired boundary into parameters that terrify me.
    I never intended to start falling in love with you. It sounds absurd and demented as these words leave my lips, but try as I might, I can't deny that this is more than just a momentary high.
    It seems as if something has changed, that I've given you some kind of free lease over my heart. No longer are you just a name or just a fleeting thought; no, now you are a static vision and an image that has been imprinted on the bare, raw base of my sentiments.
    And trust me, I dont want this to sound sickly sweet, neither do I want it to drip with faux romance, for with a heart like mine, you soon realize that love has nothing to do with romance.
    For love is a raw emotion, wild and aggressive in its untamed form, like a senseless beast with no leash, gnashing, lashing and consuming everything in its path. To tame this beast, to make it meek and approachable, we throw a facade of painted virtue over its head; a crown of patented beauty. Its growls subside, its roars are silenced, and out of its mouth pours the sweet honey it has been infected with.
    And don't we all love a tamed beast?
    But alas, whatever emotion this is that is boiling within me, it is not that putrid infatuation that slays the minds and thoughts of millions. No, this temperament is like gasoline, flammable and capable of beautiful devastation, like gossamer fires that illuminate and give life to the very air around it, like fires that burn with the colour of prismatic gold, leaving behind a trail of ashen platinum.
    I never intended to start falling in love with you, but I find that this fire is irresistible.

    ©wishbone

  • wishbone 271w

    I'm back after my long hiatus �� if my username is confusing, I was formerly known as '_distorted' or 'labyrinth'. Anyway here's a feel-good poem for y'all ❤

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    Dancing to the gypsies' tune

    Gold dipped fingertips, magic in our hands
    Diamond dusted lips, our words were our craft
    With the tales we spun, flirting with fantasy
    And the colours we loved, wove together harmonies
    Like a tribe we decide where all the happiness lies
    Leaders and creators, we paint our own lives

    We wrote stories of our escapades, carved our adventures into wood
    Starry eyes runaways, hearts on our sleeves like tattoos
    Wandering renegades, dancing to the gypsies' tune
    We came alive, with our hearts bright, with nothing to lose,
    Dancing to the gypsies' tune

    Feather-light souls, with love in our very bones
    We are stars, we glow, with a spirit unknown
    We see this journey in a million hues
    Dancing to the gypsies' tune.



    ©wishbone