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Hands fall on paper,
Ink makes love to the nib,
A swooping curl of grace,
The calm charisma of calligraphy.

A letter of love,
Sealed by sweet, soft kisses,
Signed with wishes and dreams,
Left unopened for at least two decades.

Wet tears on parchment,
Words bleed love on paper,
Forced to run long ago,
The brutal callous of calligraphy.
- C.c
Smoke fills my lungs,
Sealing my waxen tomb
In the sky.

I've risen from the ashes of prison
Only to gain a torched soul,
And be forcefully pushed
Into the wine dark ocean,
That rages beneath.

Oh dear Helios,
What did I do to you?

I never feared Death,
With his skeleton face
And iron glinted scythe.

But if I knew my fate,
Was to be a wax angel,
I'd pay more respect
To my darling inevitable.

But if I knew my fate,
Was to be a corpse in the sky,
I'd be more wary,

Of my sweet, sweet demise.
- C.c
A coward will go down with his ship
But a true captain would never let it sink.

To fight marauders and face Gaia herself
That's what being captain means to me.

To dance with death and  steal away his scythe
I'll do it once, and again, just to avoid the deep.

If it means to find treasure beside emotions unwanted
Then I'll unbury it all without hesitation.

I'd boil the ocean, and drown in my blood,
Just to save my ship from a decimation and wreck.

My skin and bones - the sail and mast,
My beautiful ship - the soulful vessel.

You can take it all, and leave me alone
But even with nothing I am determined.

But even with nothing
I am whole.
- C.c
Love is a bitter ache,
And a mad sea
Beneath a pounding storm.
But,
I still whisper
Drunk off its sweet wind.
You could boil my blood
But I still want you

I need you.
- C.c
Dear me,


Wow, you're so young,
But our faces look so close;
Both our jaws bend the same,
But your's is a little softer;
Brown's the colour of our eyes,
But never have yours been tired.

But when did all that change?
You're right, you should never know,
Your future, fate and what's to come,
But I think I'll let you know anyways.

You'll still write, but not stories
And you'll rarely dream,
But it's alright, you will find,
That it's all so much better.

No you won't ever learn guitar,
Play it right or write a song,
But you'll make music,
In so many other ways.

And I am so sorry little one,
But you will live without joy for so long,
And you'll make a million rules,
About your body and your blood
And you will break,
Every single one.

But I promise you, despite everything,
You are loved. You are loved.

And no the movies lied,
It won't feel like magic,
It'll feel like home,
Comfort, warmth and safety,
And you'll like it so much better that way.

Yes you'll still stand tall and proud,
But you will always apologize,
For every single tear that falls,
And even when you laugh too loud.
It's something we will work through,
Together, as we grow.

And little one, your smiled changed,
Because you survived the hurt and pain
You smile brighter.
- C.c
Dear me,


Wow, you're so grown up,
But our faces look so close;
Both our jaws bend the same,
But your's is a little sharper;
Brown's the colour of our eyes,
But under yours are tired lines.

When does all that happen?
I was told no one should ever know,
Their future, fate and what's to come,
But my mind holds so many questions.

Do I still write?
Do I still dream?
Will fantasy still keep me sane?
And do I ever learn guitar?
Make music and write a song?

Please, tell me now, I need to know.

Am I happy?
Am I loved?
Do I ever find the one
And is it like magic,
Like all the books and movies said?
Do I still stand proud and tall?

Do I laugh and cry,
And live with no apologies...
Please say,
I don't apologize for feeling.

And despite all the ways that I will grow,
Will my smile stay the same?
Oh, I love it so,
I hope it never changes.
- C.c
Oh, house on the hill,
Be the protective keeper,
Of the skeletons in my closet.
Hold them close
And keep them warm,
Within your tight grasp.
I see too many futures,
Ruined by my remnants,
Remains like bones,
Hung up — locked away.
My past up on a hanger,
Forever looming above,
It stumbles forward
Chasing down the present.
So I'll lock it away,
Hanged with a rope,
Carefully woven from denial.
The closet door encases,
Closed like opportunities unsnared.
Oh, house on the hill,
Be the silent prison guard,
Of the skeletons haunting,
My soul.
- C.c
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