THE BROKEN ONE - BY JRQC

Rage, sadness, solace, rapture, depression,

she falls into the pit over and over again,

and from the broken pieces she rebuilds herself... again...in pain?

off the disheartened broken sunset she feeds on the memories of his dwelling,

while a choir of voices is heard, in waves, free of pain.

Rage makes the soul walk in sticks, and softly bandages the heart

and the mind covers it in silk,

to better sense the reality in a soothing way,

where her deceiving soul and passion raise the flag of his heart.

Sadness, oh that ugly bitter one which marks the silhouette of the candle,

and causes havoc in the room of her solitude,

why should it stay with her when solace conforms her deepest desire,

is it not enough to witness her pierced heart bathed in the blood of sunsets and tears?

Rapture seems to have abandoned her with just a broken glass of wine,

have mercy on her, bathed her in petals I say!

yet no-one hears the clamour of her voice, my voice,

there is just solitude in the streets embalmed by yellow light,

yet the hearts of those who walk persist on walking the aimless path,

the ones filled with wrath,

and she is left there,

decaying along her flowers.

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LA CHICA DEL CALLEJÓN - Descripcion de personaje de ficcion - de jrqc

Ese día el sol brillaba como siempre, bañandola en su resplendor, tornando el color de su piel en tonos de miel y nuez. Su juventud perfumaba la calle y los ojos de los espectadores no la perdían de vista. Ella era simplemente la frescura de la primavera y el calor del verano combinadas casi perfectamente en las carnes y la figura de su cuerpo. Sus senos firmes dejaban entrever las aureolas de la juventud, mientras sus piernas daban paso a ese menear característico de su coqueteo, al que daba rienda suelta así como su castaña y ondulada cabellera. Su mente anidaba la sed de ver el mundo, de ir más allá de embriagarse del placer que éste le pudiera ofrecer y sin escatimar en ambiciones y sueños ella simplemente se dejaba ir. Era la carencia de estas vivencias y posesiones que la presionaban a sumirse y ser esclava de ambiciones que a veces eran malsanas y mezquinas, pero a ella eso no le importaba. Deseaba agarrar al mundo y hacerle su esclavo, deseaba ser complacida y en su parecer er

SACRED SERENADE - by jrqc - poetic prose

(watercolor by jrqc) I hear the in the distance the summoning chant, the striking of the drum, powerful and mighty, I sense your warmth, as if the flame of your passion licked my flesh, as if the sweat of the temple of your body once more bathed me, your voice in unison to the priests, protected by trees standing tall, and the golden fire of old. I see you crowned, I see your majestic beauty draped in white, shield and sword in hand, I see the depths of your eyes and I let you come into the corners of my heart and mind, and I know you will stay, and dwell, and linger, nothing more but feasts, battle and victory for us both. The chants filtered in waves through the branches and twigs, that even they shake in marvel, the wind soft and whimless, caress the goldens of your hair, your mouth smirks in pleasure, I kiss you, and I merged with you in one flesh, and a spring of love and flowers burst within us, and to the forest we belong, and to the stars we sing, and to the moon we howl, and

THAT EVENING - by jrqc

You once said that we are entangled to death since the moment we are born, that we are chained to this earthly prison and that there is nothing we can possibly do about it, that all joy sinks countless times and that lovers will always mourn their dead love swallowed by neverending grief. It seems somehow that sadness in all its complexity lingers within, it extends it branches all over without distinction, with no regrets for who the victim is. Some branches seem to be so rooted that it makes the heart break, it makes it bleed tears to the point that you can barely function. Yes, I do still remember that evening when you said that and I noticed your face sinking, your spirit broken. However, you wouldn't divulge the reason of your torment. Your beautiful darkened eyes were bloodshot and you observed me, intently, your eyebrows would frown at times and your stare would grow deeper as if trying to snatch my soul. You stood close to me, I could feel your cold breath, I could feel you

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