[you know, i could give some backstory to this OR some sort of like “inspired by:” or even the traditionally me “never experienced thing,” where the latter of the three would be the least true in this scenario. instead, i think some things are best left up to you to decide, interpret, encode, whatever~]
bearer of gifts,
and keeper of secrets
why are you hiding?
alone in the darkness,
under shadowed rice paper
night will be the death of you.
sorrowed hands cannot hold fans.
teller of stories,
holder of dreams,
hiding among your weave of lies
surely will not mend broken seams.
those you claim demons claim immortality.
one-winged angel, nothing
gets by you, you dark and cold seer
troubled at heart, tears shed in the
forest of fallen moon tears.
why do you ask?
they have already washed your sins.
why do you repent?
there is nothing to be forgiven.
keeper of secrets, my
bearer of gifts.
is remorse what you’re after?
holder of dreams, my
teller of stories.
weights only burdening.
encased in your heart,
a crowd beats slowly
surrounding the edges
making you very alone when you walk.
i walk with just fringes
your cloth for me barely stitched;
when will finding each other be
in dreams, in passing, in fairy tales
will i remember your face?
or do we still think
we’re better off alone.
resentment for their passing
remorse for their decrees
though many lives passing
more unattended soirees
if you will not,
i will find you myself.
things broken once
can take being broken again; and
if twice will not suffice, then
thrice or more! or they can
whittle away at my whispers to you, but
they cannot stop my voice
channeling through the centuries,