A Poet's Bleeding Heart🖤📜🪶

LMAO you can't convince me this band isnt full of a bunch of freaks hahaha I mean come ON. Go ahead. Tell me I'm wrong.

I'll wait. 😏

Ablum:

 Song

🖤->Fav Scale

One: 

When the Bough Breaks🖤🖤

Sundowning (Deluxe): 

The Night Does Not Belong To God🖤

Dark Signs🖤🖤🖤

Give🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Sugar🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Drag Me Under🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

This Place Will Become Your Tomb:

Hypnosis🖤

Mine🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The Love You Want🖤🖤

Fall For Me🖤

Alkaline 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Take Me Back to Eden:

Chokehold🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The Summoning🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The Apparition 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

DYWTYLM🖤🖤🖤

Rain🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Euclid 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Even in Arcadia:

Dangerous🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Provider🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Infinite Baths🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The River

I have always loved to swim. 

The water whispers to me, propeling my steps one after another toward its sparkling bank.  

It asks me to sink my toes into the cool pool, to let the water lap at my heels. 

I have always loved to swim. 

Though, as an old soul I'm no longer a match for the rip tide of the roaring rapids. Brutish and swift, an engulfing and relentless wave after wave. Pounding water into your lungs with punishing pain. You swallow, but only to gasp for air, taking it in like tiny blades. 

I have always loved to swim. 

I think, perhaps, you'll find me languidly afloat. A place you aren't asked to kick and scream and choke. You're only asked to float. Head tipped back, half submerged as the sweetly swirling currents  weave through every saturated curl. You close your eyes and let the sun seep into your soul. You don't have to see anymore. You're being carried away, all you are asked to do? 

Simply,

float. 

So, I think I shall. 

I have always loved to swim. 

I think the rapids love to play. 

But learning to exhale in the flow of the low and slow? 

Now that's where the deeper currents seem to go.

You could nearly part your lips for the water, so to slowly drink your fill. You feel it dampen and douse that burning firey will. You allow it to seep deep into that seceret burning well. 

I have always loved to swim. 

I believe I could be one with the water. Little by little I could learn to open up, swallowing a bit more by every sip and gulp.

I think I'd hold it there if only for just a spell. To savor the taste of freedom on my tongue. A reverant "yes" down my throat as I  swallow every one.

Until the water then pulls me under. Until half submerged becomes a half measure. And then it's time to fully surrender.

I think I could open my eyes under that crystal clear essence, just to watch the last few bubbles bobbling to the surface. 

I don't think I shall miss them, as I find I don't even need them here. I don't have to fight to breathe or flail.

I'm simply held by that pressure, a steady grip that won't fail.

I have always loved to swim. 

I guess soon I'll pay the toll.

It's just a matter of time

before The River 

swallows me

whole.

Moss

If I was the stone,

You were the hand that reached

out into the endless ether,

and plucked me

from the throng.

If I was the stone,

within Your palm I rested,

as You turned me over,

examining every ridge and groove,

ghosting fingertips across my jaggedly rough edges.

If I was the stone,

I could have sworn I heard You

exclaim how smooth I felt

beneath Your touch.

Though,

perhaps I must have

only

imagined it.

If I was the stone,

You were the deepest rumbling cloud,

splitting open a wide chasm above me,

unleashing a torrential downpour of potential.

If I was the stone,

You were the rain that saturated me,

leaving droplet fingerprints

over every inch of my surface.

You seeped deep into every

c r a c k

and

f i s s u r e

filling me up

completely.

For a moment,

I was whole with evanescent

bliss.

If I was the stone,

You were the hand that set me down

gently,

back into the rubble.

I wished desperately that stones had limbs,

so I could have tried to reach for You.

But stones don’t have limbs.

So, instead,

silent pleas fell from

phantom lips.

If I was the stone,

You were the moisture left behind.

An ephemeral reminder

there had – in fact – been a storm,

rain had – in fact – soaked into

the deepest

darkest,

most tender,

parts of

me.

Still,

I’d gaze into the clear cloudless sky,

the memory of raindrops

would leave me

utterly overwhelmed.

If I was a stone,

I’d be wet.

I would begin to feel the twining, climbing

roots

crawling, creeping, across my skin,

finding purchase.

Anchoring into every

c r a c k

and

f i s s u r e.

I don’t think I’d mind it though.

The lush, green, blanket that

consumed me

would be

hallowed.

A reminder,

lest I be dazed into believing

You only poured into me,

in my dreams.

If I was a stone,

I’d be enveloped in

moss.

Through soft, leafy, tendrils

I’d gaze at the sky with patient

reverence,

                              waiting,

     waiting,

                       waiting,

for more raindrop

fingerprints.

"Ensnared"

Crystal dew drops glisten,
Silken threads snag my gaze.
Molten orbs glow in the late morning haze.

I taste the heat on my tongue, iridescent gleaming web.
Liquid amber jewels, lulling siren songs in my head.

"Come to Me."
I hear it, then.

I feel the call prickle across my skin.

Hungry threads whisper,
Silken wings stutter.

"Come to Me."
I hear it,
Louder now.

I feel the call weave it's threads 'round and 'round and 'round.

Gossimer lashes flutter,
Silken wings shudder.
Resplendent, the trap that lay..
Still it calls.
Helpless, I obey.

"Come to Me."

The words caress my spine, trickling fire into my viens.
Golden baubles filled with promise, invite me in for just a taste.

Silvery threads call my name,
the echo louder still.
How I long to press my lips to that sweet forbidden silk.

"Come to Me"

"Come to Me."

"Come to Me."

On trembling gossimer wings, I touch the threads that call.
And with shimmery glittering wings, into silken arms I fall.