I stood in my dark room.
Moonlight spilled across my bed,
but my eyes saw nothing except the darkness.
In front of me, a silken rope shifted,
its hands curving tightly around the ceiling fan.
As my tears touched my cheeks, the rope smirked and said
“Don’t cry. Just come, and let me hold you gently.”
My heart whispered, “Don’t do it!,please.”
But I refused to listen.
I moved slowly toward the gentle rope,
reaching out with trembling fingers.
Before I could place it around my neck—
a sudden knock shook my bedroom door.
My tears stopped running, my lips start to tremble.
I did not know,
To let the rope welcome me with a cold smile,
or to open the door with my warm smile.
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142,479 Literary Works • 678,038 Reviews
Hello
I was drawn to the imagery in your poetry and began imagining how its emotions could unfold visually from one verse to the next. Rather than limiting the idea to a single illustration, I would love to explore turning your poem into a connected visual journey that develops alongside your words.
I’m a professional commission-based artist, and I create custom paid illustrations inspired by writers’ original work. Each section of your poem could inspire a distinct scene while maintaining a consistent artistic style and atmosphere throughout the project.
If you would like to explore this idea, I would be happy to discuss your vision, share examples of my previous work, and consider an approach that fits your budget.
Discord: inksbyeve
Instagram: @inkkfinity
Best wishes,
Eve
I want to hear you tell me whether this was fiction or an articulation of the heat of the moment. Whichever it was, the depiction of a scene like this makes me wonder about the mind behind it. Perhaps a troubled mind, an exhausted mind, one seeking a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Don't ask me how I know.
I should have nothing nice to say about this, but I do find it interesting how you personify the rope, almost presenting it as a source of comfort in a moment of vulnerability. It's unsettling, but not unfamiliar, that imagery.
Still, the contrast between the rope's cold smile and the warm smile at the door caught my attention.
I suggest, and sincerely hope, that you opt for the door. Open it and don't look back.
At the door awaits human connection, perhaps even an opportunity for rescue. It isn't easy, of course. It might look impossibly difficult, but talk while you can.
I hope the person behind these words is doing well. If not, I think the things we struggle to express deserve to be heard, even when they come in the form of poetry.
Because yes, even if it was simply something or some circumstances that pushed that imagery into your head, you need to find a way to push it back out.
You could put your pen to better use. You articulate yourself well. Speak out, and speak positively.