Ashen Pages

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Literary Lover
  • Charred Rouge

    Charred Rouge

    I’ve been sitting with hands in my lap

    The air is trapped inside the tinted windows

    Scenery of blankness and smoke, a lined eye

    To think I’d almost died

    In your arms it cannot be; your pain is torturous,

    Gluttonous and grim.

    I’ve been sitting now, patiently

    Can you speak of truth?

    A faulted step, a trusted steed, some angered

    Episode of homicidal rage.

    Your rouge filled cheeks are charred and full

    The tears of a maiden with no real home.

    In your mind, it cannot be

    You strike and wince: A malice heart

    Filled with grandiose travails.

    The words that flail across your lips,

    I could not remind myself to stay.

    I’ve much desired less, the hand that breaks

    through softened glass, I’ve become steel.

    Your blows are wretched ones,

    I thought I’d never see the wrong, the ill

    The blend of a wilted couch

    Your hands charred and mangled, as if

    The bloodied boat sank by Scylla

    I cannot be here to sew up the seams

    Again, again, again.

    Your eyes are sunken of moistened woes

    And a swollen, warm cheek.

    My sweet, loving toppled by the contrast

    of your tragic life,

    I must remember this is by your design

    That I may only greet demise.

  • Veil Sky

    Veil Sky

    The closeted slate, an undoing of minds

    A treasuring pillar mantles wrapped in silk

    Breaths emptied along the endless corridors,

    Mirrored stalks and legs, elongated in step

    Enamored streaks of blonde and white

    Of a deep well, lay weeping sheep : relentless horror

    Enthralled in blood against the lighted ceiling

    Pictures the way, I am delighted to seize this

    I can see, the wooden planks quaking underneath

    Searing sun, of Earth, Atlas weeps too

    I can bury myself deep in strife

    Of a low well, in sweeping rage

    Boughs stretch along the vera

    I can sense, as it lays unfinished

    Masqueraded smiles, the moon

    Relishing in pure contempt

    That slate, benign and stiff,

    Is soaked in gold, pristine silver locks,

    They are tightly whipped and knitted

    As blue and warmly stitched as the

    Sleepless, cloudless sky

  • Anchored

    Anchored

    Savoringly whipped to vengeance

    Riddled lapse of angst

    The sound of bordered rasps, my coquette

    I hover just above, the melting Helio sun

    Desperate pique of the war

    In friends, in lovers, in moms,

    Harboring lust to mildew

    The crack of thunder, a strike of light

    Savoring arrival to murderous regret

    Hear, of a cold Autumn night

    Wrapped in sleeves of clovers

    Has my luck run out?

    Ill-fated doom, unforgiving god

    The unloaded dreams of my

    Future, one so painfully bright

    I can reach out to touch but alas,

    The war has just begun

    In ankles, in arms, in fellows

    To prove one’s right, the blood must flow

    An anchor womb, the dark vivarium of the soul

    Deep, hollow Sirens keep me waking

    In the middle of the night

    The fight must go on!

    Or else, what do I have to live?

    A war has only so much to give

    Ceaseless fire-strung pain

    Or else, a love awaits

    To refute my dreams, I must