**Drip**

**Drip**

**Splat**

Tears fall like raindrops from the sky,

Marring her small, freckled face.

She sniffles,

Breath stuttering,

She chokes on air,

Tears at her clothes, clutching her dying heart—

But she dares not scream.

No… she must be silent.

Her eyes puff red,

**Drip**

**Drip**

Her tears soak the floor once more.

No one understands.

**Drip**

**Drip**

And how could they?

**Drip**

**...

The color of a winter maze,

Of frozen snow and icy days.

The shade of innocence, pure and free,

A babe untouched by destiny.

The haze my thoughts retreat into,

While gazing at the pearly hue.

A fleeting breath, a world turned still,

The quiet white of nature’s will....

**Wrenn Silacor.**

I want him.

I need him.

I press myself against the rough corner of the brick building, watching as he strides leisurely down the bustling street. His auburn hair gleams under the artificial glow of the streetlights, each strand bouncing with every confident step. That steely gray gaze of his cuts through the night like a blade, and though his eyes don’t land on anyone in parti...

**Shall I compare thee to a cold winter’s night?**

For you are far colder, your frost a biting blight.

Your dead, blue eyes gloss over, veiled in white haze,

A snow-blown blizzard, an endless, frozen maze.

Your touch chills to the bone, no warmth to find,

At times I wonder—does your heart beat behind?

Your smile is sharp, malicious, it cuts like a blade,

Yet in your jagged beauty, divinity is d...

She is a brilliant star from above,

I am her shadow, dark and low.

She glides with the grace of a dove,

Yet casts her scorn on any raven’s woe.

She holds her books, boundless in beauty,

While I bear the sword and the weight of strife.

She laughs and smiles, unbound by duty,

While I retreat, a recluse, from her light-filled life....

I never did grow used to the dying of my sun,

Slowly… I lost all feeling… that which made me human.

Your absence left a dark, unfillable hole,

And a heart… shriveled, brittle… like charcoal.

I dare not speak, nor write of how I feel,

For in doing so, I think of you… and all that was real.

Wherefore art thou, my star-crossed love, my Romeo?

And why could we not drink of the same Cup of Ambrosio?...

I swim in a stream of blurred memories, distorted by intoxication.

I remember gliding through a lavish ballroom, mingling with dangerous guests in unfamiliar territory. My obsidian dress flitted around me, shimmering like a thousand dark gems. I’d dressed as extravagantly as possible, hoping to attract the company I desired. I had nearly finished my third glass of champagne when my vision began...

(The style of poetry is called a villanelle. It’s a 19 versed poem, with an alternating rhyme scheme.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Silence shatters like a porcelain cup,

Secrets spilled and soaked into our souls,

Broken hearts bled, as tired eyes shed tears of sorrow.

It was a night like any other when it all began to stir up,

Though first had I believed the noti...

“Mirror, mirror, on my wall,” I chant in quiet glee, “Who’s the fairest of them all?” I gaze at my reflection, awaiting no answer in particular. My fingers comb through my soft, luscious raven curls, and I bat my hazel eyes. I dust blush onto my high cheekbones, brush my lips with oil and wine, and smile at the perfection before me, giving my gown one last twirl.

I giggle and laugh at my reflecti...

I’ve always been a sucker for biker boys. Most of them share the same irresistible characteristics: tall and tan, dark curly hair, and arms adorned with colorful tattoos. Maybe it’s the air of danger they carry, like an accessory they wear as naturally as leather, or the quiet calm that follows them, like they’ve seen a little too much of the world. Whatever it is, I’m enchanted every time. I know...