Playing with poetry

Love Isn't

With meticulous, exquisite care
rip my heart to shreds.
Love is patient.

Sweet words pass through your lips
searing bitter truths across my flesh.
Love is kind.

Secrets surrendered in soft places
honed to blades embedded in my spine.
Love does not act unbecomingly.

Facets of memories like prisms refracted
throw grotesque pictures on once-clean walls.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.

Brilliant smiles hide your atrocities
as I writhe in agony on the floor.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.

A fortess of lies.
Love always protects.

An assault of excuses.
Always trusts.

Calculated manipulations.
Always hopes.

The familiar silhouette of your retreating frame.
Endures all things.

No remains of a heart obliterated.

Love never fails.

Just a little something

I thought I'd post a little bit of my VSWIP(very slow work in progress). I'm thinking this will be the prologue. What do you think?


Dear God, what have I done. I'm the catalyst to the Faerie Apocolypse, thought Carlin, as she surveyed the surrounding chaos.
All around the heavy clangs of magical broadswords against enchanted armor reverberated through her body. The hissing of arrows flying through the air and the dull thuds as they found their targets in immortal flesh, punctuated every heartbeat. Her eyes met those whose eyes had seen centuries, perhaps millenia, of humankind come and go, and watched as their lights grew dim and faded to darkness.

How had it come to this?

I do believe in faeries. That's where it all started. And if I live through this,, she said to herself, I'm gonna kick that Tinker bitch's ass.