evoke-me submitted:

"Oh, how dearly i have missed creeping you page. Your words are music to my ears, so i beg you. Don't ever stop singing."

I promise you I never will. I just been editing my novels as of late so poetry and things of that nature kind of took a backseat. But I tell you what, how would you like to be a beta reader to one novel I’m ‘bout finished with. You can also help me pick out the name. I’m stuck between Sing For Me or Violets & Roses: A Beauty Within

Inner Child Revisited

They say when it rains God’s saving a soul

And not worry about things beyond your control

Can’t control the weather, can’t make it better

Can’t make you love me, reason why I’m so untrusting

My heart beats slow, but my soul is comatose

Because I’m loved by everybody but the ones who matter the most

If you hate me, then why did you make me

Shame you can’t even smile at your first baby

Inherited your features and your cold disposition

Because the world put a tender, young boy in this position

Bullied as a youth, but inside of a bullet lies truth

Because I had thoughts on killing everybody including you

Including myself, no one saw I needed help

Because I was so good at disguising the pain that I felt

Baby boy neglected with a lifestyle hectic

Heart full of hurt mind full of rejection

Inner Child raised in a city that made him wild

Where insanity ran rampant and murderers were established

Trying to curb this habit of hatred

But instilled the day the person that made him, left him forsaken

Left him patiently waiting for a day that never came

So that day love was lost, never to be found again

But I’ll take the blame, I was born simple and plain

It was my fault that he left and after that my fault that i changed

It was my fault the world didn’t quite look at me the same

It was my fault that I harbored so much hatred in my brain

It was my fault that I held on to such strong hostility

But this inner child matured with the ability to take full responsibility 

I just really want to learn you and the complexities in which embodies you so perfectly because without you being so, you are perfect to me with potential to grow into something that can rival Heaven in my eyes

— Jeffrey Bolden

An Endearing Touch

penofthegoldenchild:

With your skin in my fingertips 
I feel the pulse of Heaven
And it is made real again
You are my faith
You complete me

penofthegoldenchild

penofthegoldenchild:

Do I deserve you?

Can I handle being the first being to ever touch your Heavenly body?

How would I react to having your apricot lips pressed upon mine for the

first time?

Would I react as one who has never drank drinking the finest of wines?

What would go through my mind?

As my fingers ran…

penofthegoldenchild
And if we should so happen to meet at the Pearly Gates, maybe then I’ll ask her out on a date
I would ask God if we could sit by the river that flows milk and honey and add corn flakes
Then I would read her this poem by a celestial filled lake, and I’ll tell her you’re the reason why this poem was great
And then I would tell her that she just made the rest of my life with that smile on her face
penofthegoldenchild

Love Angel

The inside of a Scorpio’s heart is a frozen vast wasteland paved by shards of broken ice and bodies of the once weres and the has beens, and as I explore the frigid tundra landscape, I find you there, slumped over with an sharpened icicle protruding from your back. The blood that melts the frost that coats the ice is evidence, proof of the dangers in which is posed when exploring a Scorpio’s heart. I am not heartbroken, I tried to warn you of the ugliness, but when you looked past my ventricles, past the soul of the cardiovascular system, you only saw the lonely flower that grew tall and dark. You were beautiful to me because no matter the thorns that stuck nor the  climate in which it thrived in deterred you away from the possibility of the touch of those dark red petals. If only you knew that that rose gained its color because its roots were fed by the tributaries of blood that run deep within the ice. If you would’ve looked closely, the light pink tint of the frozen landscape would have screamed run, “Run,” but to you, it whispered in its most seductive tone. “Come.” And you did. And you died.

Not everyday is going to be a good day, but everyday you survive is a day in which you have accomplished something. You are bigger than what afflicts you. I just hope one day, the beauty that resides in you reflects into the world. You are the catalyst of a beautiful existence and never forget it.

— Jeffrey Bolden To A Swift Sunset (via penofthegoldenchild)

penofthegoldenchild