How would you describe pain?…I describe it as the logical realisation of the absence of a preferred reality ..and that it may be graded from the absence of her smile to the loss of a heart. In this moment, if anyone cares to read my vitals, I’ve lost more than a heart..I lost myself…and my temperature is that of a man burning with pain beneath her icy glare.               Noah_arkenswagg 

Limits of freedom

Boundaries, the limits I’ll try to rewrite. Boundaries, the only words they say may hold you back. Boundaries, the third time I try to climb over your limits. I’ll make it, I’ll describe to those on the other side how your heights are lower than the altitudes of success. I’ll play solitaire at your precipice just cause this solitary journey was all it took to breathe the air of freedom. I promise you, it’s so much fun to let the chains fall when you reach the limits of the sky.                Noah_arkenswagg

Game of love

He’s got chocolate cheat codes to your heart, and all I have is experience in losing this challenge. Friend zoned in level 1, I watched as the curtains were drawn and the happily ever after credits went up. Perhaps the strategy of not spending on gems has backfired, or perhaps my inability to console her during those dark hours, levels where I just gave up on this game of Love was the  cause ..sigh. Replay?     Noah_arkenswagg

Paper cut 

Paper cut, broken heart..your pain is a 1 on a scale of 0 to pillow hugging. I’m a poet, and my romance with pain will forever be the story my battle scars tell. So when you ask how i am today…well, in summary i’m fine!….and im sorry for your tragic paper cut…



Write our story from where her dress ends, creeping along the floors of castles that haven’t felt a whisper in a century …let your words flow out and continue our story ..please. write about how our fingers will forever remain reaching for each other across continents and time. Colour stanzas with tragic endings, the kind that gets the romantics criticising your words forever…and all that matters is that they speak of our almost beautiful love…almost, always so close..never enough. Noah_arkenswagg 

The muse that…

Can you describe the prison of a poet who’s muse cared not about his art. If she ignored the portrait of her reflection painted by words,or the desperate love he felt every dawn for her..poems left on snow white pillows, etched into the skin of trees, left between the icecream and vanilla flavoured comfort food to comfort her while he was away..all ignored. His prison..we’ll have to ask him. It just might be a paradise to him, after all, what’s more beautiful than a muse to a man imprisoned by his own ink coloured thoughts. Noah_arkenswagg

The park

I stood in the rain and played alone when the game was over ..sat on a swing and kicked at stones till the wind started a game with my hair, and still no one came. Don’t blame the rain..they wouldn’t have come even if I cried wolf , let alone if I had just cried. So I began a new game..I could turn the rain drops that fell on my cheeks they’re not tears, rain drops I tell you..raindrops Noah_arkenswagg

Sweet poison

She said, the problem is…when you say I love you, how many heads turn. Like sugar coated candy you leave a trail for the weak and gaga romantics…and so hands reach where Hands may reach, and they’re so Grateful. Like Hansel and Gretel, stuffed bellies full of your lies…those oh so sweet lies. Noah_arkenswagg

Flower talk

If I were a flower, I’d be the kind with thorns..for I await fingers so delicate my maze of pain will never spill velvet emotion. If I were a flower, I’d be clothed in colours more intricate than a rose..yes, jealousy… They all go for roses, so why not get pretty at the splash of dawn. If I were a flower..all this wouldnt matter, I’d simply stand proud on whatever summer day you chose, and die a poetic death at the request of any spoiled princess.              Noah_arkenswagg

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