“In Due Time” by Nicole Heinz

In dreams,

that’s when I see them burning,

rushed from hiding

All tied by invisible strings

Read more ““In Due Time” by Nicole Heinz”

“Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” Edgar Allan Poe

“The Tale of Velda Blathere” by Nicole Heinz – First Chapter.

 

“I don’t fear broken men, I fear the day their brokenness will be put inside a box. A hidden treasure buried beneath logic and reason. I fear the day empathy will irrevocably become a contagion. Something to be cast away lest we all become infected with a feeling. I’m afraid this story will only grow into a rather old one, one that will be put to rest inside a weeping coffin. The blood of many calling out, only to fall in and out of sleep in hollow, perpetual death.” – Velda Blathere

Read more ““The Tale of Velda Blathere” by Nicole Heinz – First Chapter.”

“Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” Edgar Allan Poe

DARK POETRY – “I love you and I don’t know why” by Nicole Heinz

 

You keep pushing me into a corner

The one where we say goodbye

You keep saying the things

The things where we both cry

Till we’re huddled in the hallways of our

beat-up hearts

Dusty, slowing down just to race again, hearts

We’re like a car that won’t start, but only because we’ve lost the keys

We keep searching

Till we’re at each other’s throats, seeking escape from the cage we made

The prison we made from hurts and lies, and fairy tales that never came true

I don’t want to fight, I say to you

I repeat this until my brain goes empty

The love isn’t good enough for you

It’s a vicious cycle with you

I take my part in the blame, I say it freely to you

But there’s a light, a real light just outside this hole

If you could just help me build the ladder

We could build it from anything,

the smallest thing

We could make it from an old song,

We could sing the melody to move our hands again

But you can’t stop, because you want it all to end

The hurt someone else caused owns you like a pencil with no eraser

I try to take it away, over and over again

I could even set fire to that worn down paper you clutch

so closely

Until you see and I see, but it doesn’t matter

Because you want me to hurt the way you hurt

You want that pain to take it away

You keep digging our grave,

I love you and I don’t know why

“Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” Edgar Allan Poe

“A Red Dress and a Blue Corset” by Nicole Heinz

Image source https://www.redbubble.com/es/people/aprilkoehler/works/9573486-rose-left-at-grave?p=greeting-card

 

 

She wore a red dress and a blue corset,

the laces tied ever so tightly

She owned the hardened streets of

the moon-lit night so that

her heels never clicked upon arrival

She fed from red wine as

her wraith like form danced

Her watchers waited in turn

with greedy eyes

for a single rose chance

Oh, that wisp of a girl

with black-painted nails

and ripened lips

How they marveled at

her beautiful loneliness

Alas, the hands of midnight passed

to her once sacred place

As the hour-glass emptied

its last chance

to bring light to the sky,

she laid the dress into a pile of

ever-growing red

Her heart clenched fitfully

into a cold slumber, a lone tendril

of curl against her blue corset

“Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” Edgar Allan Poe

“Today, Tomorrow” by Nicole Heinz

Image ownership: Frank Machalowski

 

The day begins,

the sun is set

Yellow rays filtering

through a blue horizon

Thoughts align and don’t

to make moments

appear and disappear

Hello turns to goodbye

Afternoon headed towards

evening tables and soon-enough

night stars light the windows

All is done

All has passed, all that can

or will, today

Yet, before that time encroaches

we had that could be, what if

Why did that happen, maybe tomorrow

we’ll know the answer

Rising and creeping through our minds

“Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” Edgar Allan Poe