The sea-kissed breeze wafts through
my hair, the sand adjusting to my feet
as I stroll briskly through the night
with the love of my life. We turn to
the ocean to gaze upon th shin of the
stars on the waves. We wave back, and
look at o h moon, waning, half-full,
but full of beauty. The tide is high
as I smile at her, my right hand
interlocked with her left.
The sun rises, shining on my tired eyelids.
They open gradually, and I groan in exhaustion.
The bed of sand wasn’t as comfortable
as I had thought when I drifted out
of consciousness hours prior. Not that
it matters, for I had one of the
happiest nights of my life and
I didn’t want it to end anyway.
He turned his back on
me and walked away.
He left me, no,
All for power.
He was the closest
thing I had to family.
He hangs his head, covered in blue cotton,
low, in order for him to symbolize
how he feels. His black and purple button-down
plaid shirt reveals a white tee. Crystallized
fragments find their way to the earth beneath
his maroon sneakers. A chilling wind blows
the fragments, a pure white flurry, to he
who walks solitarily. This man knows
the cold, unfeeling eyes cast upon him;
the bitter, brisk breeze is nothing at all
in comparison. He fled on a whim,
hoping to find solace in his downfall.
Instead, he found himself outside, collapsed,
in the banks of snow on th cold street-sides.
He remembers the frozen mocha frappe
he used to buy daily, a treat inside
a plastic cup. Nothing is sweet about
his current situation. The bitter,
chilling air numbing him, his body out
in the cold, is a curse for white winters.
He was never fond of
rules. He was the black
sheep of the group, too.
But I sensed a powerful
bond between the two of
us. A bond that didn’t show
itself until he gave me his
gift with his last breath.
She’s resisting the overwhelming urge
to stand up and eradicate those who
she deems worthy of her personal purge.
In this vendetta, she prepares a coup
to usurp the Rome and ignite the fire
within the oeople she tries to protect.
All around, she sees funeral pyres
for those passed. The wind shifts and she detects
incoming inclement weather. Whether
or not the storm will quickly come to pass
is uncertain. She hates being tethered
to emotion; she’s hoping she can last
long enough to cast aside all her ties.
When someone so great wants to barricade
themselves in their own hell until they die,
you know this happiness was a facade.
Shouldering the weight of
everyone’s hatred towards him,
he casts off his bonds to
his home and family.
He sets his eyes
on the horizon.
He vows vengeance.
I need your hand to hold onto my heart
because it keeps skipping beats. You are art,
a beautiful creation; it was fate
that brought us together. Staying up late
on the phone, discussing what our future
had in store. The collision of culture
between us culminates to terraform
the foundation of our love. You were born
to be a sweet, genuine heroine;
I was to be a creator wherein
my art fulfills and represents all ideals
I hold. Writing, music, and video feel
right when I push myself to do better.
I will be a creator forever.