Rest in peace to all the brave gryffindors
The courageous ones with hearts that soar
Rest in peace to all the smart ravenclaws
You left this generation in intelligent awe
Rest in peace to all the clever slytherin
without you, many of us wouldn't grin
Rest in peace to all the kind hufflepuff
I know our journey was tough

Avada kedavra to the other sort
Crucio on voldermort
imperious on the non deluxe
Destroy all of the horcrux

Shortlived were the cohorts
That tried to defeat hogwarts

we thank you

The words she scribbled
were not about her
but still
they concealed a part of her soul
because
they were her horcrux !!
For all her life
she waited for someone
who'd read all
of her writings
to find her pieces
and put them together
to make her whole
but no one ever tried
so she lived
entrapped in her
horcruxes
as a prisoner of immortality !!

When you know you've lived
the exact present you're living now before,
doesn't it make sense to think of it as though...
there is another part of you in another universe,
going through the same thing?

I believe in the multiverse theory,
for I cannot prove that we are not alone.
I believe there is a reason why
I feel the skies talk to me every night.

I believe someone's message is reaching me
through the beams of the moon every night.
My skin seeps it in
like a flower knows to bloom.

Ever think of a time difference
between one universe and the other?
What if we are born here on Earth and after we die,
our soul travels to another universe
and relives the same story?

What if...
we are a horcrux of our own soul
which is split up and placed
in different universes?

Your belongings (be)long to/for the materialist of Earth.
Your memories belong in the cradle of the hands of time.
Your talents belong in the rucksack of circumstance.
Your friends and family are shadows on the pavement
of the path you travelled.
Your lover belongs in the warmth of your heart.
Your bones belong with the typhoon of dust.
Your soul belongs in God's horcrux.
Your moments.
That's all that's ever yours.
Moments.

Within the fires are the spirits
The gong upon our anvil
As such arms can only be made in Heaven.

Of various persons each known to his part
Distinct are the Poet and the Dreamer
And so I was Gods ape,
Piety so chaste
I hold it half a sin
Entering the cold broken world
Thus Adam lamented to himself aloud.

"No coward soul is mine
What will come at last too soon
For honour bit-wize travels
Unwinking on this fair ship 'Life'".

But there was resistance involved
The swift blazing flag of regiment
As bare as a birds tail
To make a clean breast
The iron entered my soul.

I pray you
The earthly bribble-brabble
A veil for the glory of Angels
Lest evil tidings to utter
To turn and face them
And see ones self
Not to be lost but by the makers hand.




ELEETE J MUIR

I visited that site today,
where all our memories are laid
I don't know why but I miss it somehow
I guess I just can't forget
I guess you never taught me how
Sometimes I wish we never met
But all is well now, I suppose
All is good for me and you
We have adapted to all our losses
I hope you have beautiful days, too
I am okay, if you really care
That was how you left me
Those were your last words
You said your soul is torn
You said I was a horcrux of yours
You told me you hated that you still think of me,
You still cry for your forever
You keep all my letters,
all the stuffed toys and little things
It smells like me
You remember my touch,
and all of it still lingers
It reminds you of innocence
and all the bad days
It reminds you of me,
your longest fling.
You used to remember my lips when you kissed hers
I pitied her at some point
She didn't deserve a love like that
But who am I to care about you two
You didn't even care when you inflicted pain on me
I guess our doors are closed
You say we are in good terms like we had a negotiation
It was nice until it lasted
Lately I found out that
God made another one of you
to love me better than you ever will

All is well now, I suppose
All too well, I guarantee.

My mother was a patch of smudged ink on
his arm, skin yet to close after being lasered

by the dermatologist. What were you thinking?
she had said to him before, and he answered

I love you, and as she touched herself
prodding her comical mouth with a finger

her shadows tenderly seeping into his pores
making her more vivid. Each time I’d see

my father pointing a knife at her, at her
smile wanting to tear it off. And I was his

death eater, quick to sew my mother shut
and burn her before she causes too much

damage. Then father would touch my
face as if he’s now seeing clearly through

the tears that clog his serpent eyes. How
in this chamber of secrets we dance

in a ballroom tiled with his pain. And I
was wearing ice slippers, his frozen tears

leaving a wet trail that clouds this rib vault
where our steps are quiet, where father I am

Yours,

your horcrux.

Once I start writing I can never stop.
It's like birth, once you start breathing,
You can never stop.
It's like drugs, once you start using,
You can never stop.
It's like love, once you start loving,
You can never stop.
It's like dying, once you start dying, you can never stop.
Writing is like birth, a new beginning, a blank page a fresh start.
Writing is like a drug, addticting, making me see alternate universes and strange creatures,
Writing is like love, there once was a Romeo and a Juliet. And they lived happily ever after.
Writing is like dying, with each  page that's bleeding ink, you seal a little but more of your soul onto the page. A different kind of horcrux,
One that cannot be broken.
It's written in blood, in ink, in thoughts and dreams.
In life and death

With every morning, a new hope does rise
Only to suffer the most untimely demise
Time flies by, getting closer to the days when all would be gone
And only memories would be extant to count upon
I sense a devastating tempest coming to haunt
A storm, wild enough, to exterminate the most entrenched roots
Only if the truth could have worked to alleviate the misery
But letting it out would only be a treachery
Absconding into dreams and leaving the reality behind is a part of the routine
The reality suffocating the very basis of my existence is the whole scene
When the wall of my patience does fall apart,
And melancholy fills the chasm to the brim in my heart
Like a horcrux, I'd break apart.