the unseen dripped from
boundless skies—i dipped my pen
and wrung it to life
About the Creator
Kristen Balyeat
Words fly to me on the wind, bump into me as I'm strolling the city, splash me in the face while I rest by the river, and shake me awake in the middle of the night—I’m humbly one of the vessels they use to come to life.
Also, i love you:)
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Who is Fate
March 5 2026 Forgiveness is a man I met last night. The moon was stuck behind a building and I couldn’t climb anywhere near it. He told me my efforts were hollow— God bless your mind but it’s got no use here. Craters dug into my palms by his crescent nails left me with brandings— belonging to a foe is more than belonging to none at all. More implication, more value, more sense of thing; so I ask Forgiveness a series of questions and he does not answer. What am I meant to do? When the moon watches me and I cannot return the same. My nails have been gone since the second my teeth grew tall, so I am left taking and never giving. I am left in darkness with no moon and no place to be, no thing to which I belong, a foe’s mark and rigid divots in enamel. If every part of this body is branded, where will my soul continue? Where does it stop now that I am fluid in daytime wires? Lampposts line every street forever and he knows I’m weighing them down. The power’s been out this whole time. Can I ask you one last question? Who decides my fate now that I’m dead?
By Olivia Dodge6 days ago in Poets
Comments (9)
Beautiful 🩵
Always so eloquent! The rest of us don't stand a chance in this one ☺
well done
your usual my friend, fantastic, beautiful words 😊😊
Once again you prove why you are one of the best
Gorgeous piece. Well done, my friend.
Oh, this is breathtaking!
Love the image and the words
And your readers are grateful! Beautifully penned, my friend!