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Lead me out of my shell. There are so many we haven’t done. So many things I never knew I wanted to do until you. Trapped in my cage; I never had the space to feel loved, never had the space to dream of life beyond the bars, where the sun rose and shone each day, warming my cheeks but just out of reach, forever out of reach—a fingertip’s touch away. And then you found me. And you reached inside without fear of getting bitten by the animal, curled up in the shadows of the corner of the cell. You soothed my fears; started hacking at the walls built up around me through the years. And you called my name; taught me how to say it

Your eyes glisten as they run free through the field of stars above us, greedily hoarding the ripest, brightest fruit which you feed me on delicate fingertips; and I, ravenous, accept all you offer me until we lie there, together, our starlight-stained hands entwined, as the dawn arrives to clean away the remnants of our midnight feast. Your eyes glisten in the early sun- the last stars left in my sky- and I, ravenous, sate myself in your gaze.

Consuméd By tempest, by rain and gale, By bastard chill, And stinging hail. Forsaken Of fortune and its favours- Luckless living- Full of labours. Resistant- Stalwart is your shining soul And beating heart- Keeps your hope whole. Resplendent, When at last your storm does break, And those grey skies Your canvas make. Fantastic Colours bid the gloom retreat, And warn it you Shall not be beat. Radiant In defiant beauty be, And steal away The breath of me.

There's little more heartbreaking than an Angel told for so long she has no wings, that she has come to believe it.

In Spring, they called for you by name, to go and join the war. 'Weep not for me, I will return to you’ is what you swore. Each day I sat and listened for your name upon the breeze, and only when the wind did speak would my heart be at ease. The Summer brought both warmth and light, and I sat beneath the trees, where o'er years we used to lie, from mornings 'til the eves. I curled up in our favourite spot, between the roots inside a dip, and I closed my eyes and drifted off with your name on my lips. Then Autumn came, with howling gales and days on end of rain. The months apart had taken tolls; I was buckled, bent, and strained. I'd w

Benor grumbled in his half-asleep state as he rolled over, the bed beneath him creaking in complaint as his thick, muscled mass shifted. Subconsciously, he looped an arm over Jon, and frowned. Peeling his eyes open, he used a knuckle to dislodge the eye gunk that had already built up, and propped himself up on an elbow. Jon was gone. Benor felt around for a hint of warmth in the bedding, and concluded from the cold sheets that Jon had been gone for a while. Benor shivered at the prospect of leaving the bed on a mid-Morning Star night, but he noticed the door to the bedroom was slightly ajar, and warm, inviting light lingered around its edges

There’s a candle, sitting squat, in the room of a man, who has little but the sadness in his soul. It used to burn, long ago, giving light and warmth; back when the candle stood tall. So little of it left, barely a wick to set alight; but the man he needs it all.   He strikes a match, lights the wick, so low in the candlestick. Feeble flickers of a flame, dim and small. For a time the room is bright, and for the man, this tiny flame, it lifts his pall. But the candle’s fire gutters, and at last, its remnants spent, it flickers out, and on the man does darkness fall. There was a candl

For limericks, this is their day. Annually, on the twelfth day in May write five verses of fun, maybe shove in a pun, or don't, I'm not fussed either way.

Early sun ascend on azure sky; gaze upon shining lands of gold. --- In battle with heat of oppressive midsummer, an Oak shields my brow. --- Cool evening sun wanes, while embers of dying light set the world ablaze.

Several days had passed since Skye had been taken to the safe house, and she still couldn’t think of it as anything more than a glorified holding pen. True enough, it had games consoles, basic internet access, books, and a TV with all the channels known to man—and going by the content of a few she’d flicked past, several channels known also to aliens. But nothing pulled her back into reality faster than pointing out a funny line in a show to someone who wasn’t there. Occasionally she’d lose herself in a game, and would ask Fitz if he’d been watching before realising that she was alone. There were no jokes t