(Revised Negative Poem, the first draft follows).
Darkness, restless, relinquishes me without taking
my sharpness from neither constraint.
After midnight, the prison frees me from my shackles,
sharpened by the moon’s obscurity. No walls
can snuff out my blindness. I give to you,
my soul. You fix your death, bereft of
existence. I feel nothing afterward, you have lost me.
Illshaped outside my shared soul.
Life, meaningless, nothing will remain.
You’ve stopped suppressing them, just give up.
My conflict, my sorrow, soothes your pain.
Walk towards your ending.
Nothing is possible. Mother murk
blackens the glasshouse canopy.
You surrender from the release.
Such lively souls, both free from my soiled being.
My silence is puritanical, never overindulgent.
These are the two realities I lived,
forever exposed to misfortunes,
nevermore in favor of goodbyes,
stemming from open conclusions.
You will whisper nothing.
I have adopted not a thing in this life,
Akin to living a pointless existence.
You grew out of hatred, refusing love.
Mistrust is two paths you have twice forsaken.
Opening Prose From Your Daughter Aptly Named Away From Your Obstruction.
(original rough draft)
Darkness restless relinquishes me without taking
my sharpness from neither constraint.
After midnight, the other prison frees my encumbrances,
Shapen moon obscurity. No walls
exclude my blindness. Given to you,
My soul. You fix your death without
Presence. I feel nowhere afterwards
There twofold you could misplace me
Illshaped outside my shared soul. Life meaningless
Nothing will remain
Implausible. You’ve stopped suppressing them give up
My disunion, my sorry soothes your death
Towards your ending. Nothing
Is not impossible. Mothermurk
Soils under not the prison ceiling.
You surrender from release the two all from cruelty
Against such lively without demolish in spite of forgetfulness
Both independent from blacken my being.
My anonymity is puritan and not madame.
That is the two realities: I lived
But was not exposed misfortunes. Twice
Before your death. Nevermore, in favor of
My goodbyes donning out of opening conclusions,
My back both exemplify you removed under your rear.
That first nothing, me above your lids. Was not you
Uncovered without me before? You will whisper
Nothing I have adopted not a thing
Similar to existing not bitter certainly. You are
My senior, and you perished. You rose out hatred without refusing
My father. Eventually we know. Doubtfullness
Is two moles you twice forgot. They needed two bases.
Rise
Against the few parented adults land’s on top
Against few the adults built away from reclamation
Lose us sleepless out compassionate worm morning
Takeaway a awake girl oblique triangle of quench but miss
She can write, busyness. we misinform your arms yet we remain
To the disharmony of the mornings calm backwards and white
Drys spurning. They come on except slow but go out
Yet land rising to the stay of fishes tail.
I am in awe over your written here, truly. And the direction you went with your wording, theme, and imagery, that is something I like in writing: dark so to speak. That is what I connect to if that makes sense. And your use of the word “puritan” was great too.
Thank you so much Tiffany!!!! Yes I don’t know why, but every time I sit down to write anything, it always takes a harsh turn into the macabre