ItsHeatherLOL

Resolve, ye say. O Heaven, firmament, willt it please you not to Appease one as wretched as I? Nay? Prithee, judge me not. Heaven and Hell are barren, vacant to me. Thus, Theology, I must from you turn, and seek redemption in love fair, But, understand this, could I? Perhaps were his antlers not so protruding. But what does this vacillation of my heart portend? Pray, I must know. Solomon the wise, Instruct me. Would you teach me not of sagacity nor prudence? A heart that longs to defy God's doing. Love they neighbour, To thou I will give myself eternally. O, wayward heart, you know my secret. My feelings belie what divinity, thos

You're in the tower, blissful and content, no laws broken or sins to repent, with all the poise and all of the grace from the width of your charm to the shape of your face. You heard words turn to poetry and song, humming tunes while the day is long, while I am in the keep, pondering and thinking about how far in your quicksand I am sinking. A prisoner of love and a captive of life, the consequence of all the trouble and strife that comes along with owning a second-hand heart and wanting to immortalise you in all of my art. Take my stanzas and memorise my verse, as I take my pen and begin to rehearse the words I long to say and

There is a dead man who sleeps in my bed and watches with unseeing eyes whilst I dream of other men. His sucher-shut lids don't cast light me now, but burn through my own as though they are light itself. There is a dead man who steals my shoes and follows me down roads he has never walked. If I take the train, he'll sit beside me and I stumble as he stubs my toes, kicks my ankles, trips me up. His muted voice is flat, monosyllabic, repeats rhythmically the same words and his dead stare is unyielding, holding me in his eyes. His nerves and neurotransmitters can't spark to process thought, but occupy mine as though they are my own. His arm