Darkest light

Original draft of this third poem of the day – including spelling mistakes and my poor handwriting. Written on a napkin while making lunch. (May 24th, 2020)

Touching skins

And

Kissing souls

Seeping into one

Soaking in each other

*

Touching skins

And

Kissing souls

Drowning in fantasies

Creating eternal/ ethereal memories

*

I could die in your eyes

I could float in your arms

*

Touching skins

And

Kissing souls

Desperate connection

Bleeding lust

*

Dire thoughts

Floating darkness

– our kind of light.

small world

My world is small with walls coming closer to crush my mind

If I was a bubble, I would burst into a million of tiny droplets

I could inspire growth, I could make everything better

But I am trapped in my small world.

If I could spread my wings and swim across the clouds

I could be by your side, I could be fertile soil

But I am trapped in my small world.

come on, go!

I let you get to me

And now I am broken.

Do you know I wasn’t happy there?

In the shower, in the kitchen,

I was never myself

And I hate this feeling

I was never my own.

I said we’re done

But you came back to catch me.

Did I ask to be saved?

Quit playing these games.

And if I crawl home

Hiding underneath the street lamps

My sins will be concealed.

I reek of all the things I didn’t do.

Strange times – it could be worse.

On a leash, in a line

Almost forty years and my demise is near.

Carved in skin – made a of love

Falling off a mountain…

I will fly. I swear I will.

My last remaining decisions.

Who knew?

beautiful beginning

The clouds gathered above my head,

I shook my hair, refusing to accept that I was mad

And the rain began soaking my naked body

My nose rose in defiance; yes, I was that snotty

Roots grew out of my feet, keeping me steady

One, two, three. I felt it in my bones; I was ready

I wasn’t drowning; I was nurtured and growing

And time and space was slowing (down)

My head fell back, and my arms rose against the gloomy sky

Fuzzy images behind my eyes; suggestive lies

Victorious at last, my skin was washed clean

Memories of who I was and where I’d been

My unquiet mind was reeling from this new emotion

Life passing by in slow motion

A new seed was beginning to grow

Goodbye. Hello.

******

Written for Peckapalooza (Aaron), who posted a prompt on his blog, The Confusing Middle. I don’t want to commit to writing for every prompt, but this is a beginning, and sometimes, prompts help to get the creative juices flowing.

Head over to his blog and take a look. I think you will like it. Also, if you want, write for the prompt ‘beginning’ and share it in the comments.

I hope you are well—lots of love to you.

too much love will kill me

There are butterflies in my mind, urging me to run.

You love me too much, too deeply; and I run.

Scared to be seen, scared to understand; and I run.

Out of breath, out of logical thoughts, but I run.

***

But your love for me feels so real, as if we were the only lovers in this storm.

But your love for me feels so good, as if you pull me into a safe place.

But your love for me feels so right, as if you are the part that makes me whole.

But your love for me is a lie, a fantasy that will never be.

***

Your sugar words won’t feed me.

Your romantic ideas won’t inspire me.

Your intensity just scares me.

You’re loving me too much, and it will be my death.

***

And I run and I run.

I run away from your thieving heart.

I run away from your perfect mind.

I run away from you until I can hide in your arms, again.

*****

Dark moon

Butterfly feelings in my chest

Stains on my satin soul

Rain in a bottle

And I am coming undone.

*

I cannot sleep again

Your pieces in me

Screaming and kissing

Make me feel good!

*

Twisted ropes around my thoughts

These words don’t work

I lost you on the other side of the screen

Always too far.

*

Hidden in my bedroom

This is not me

Layers of shadows

Reasons for light.

*

You are a breeze on my skin

Protecting me from the voices

Waves of emotions

Exploding fireworks.

*

Gone in sin

Follow me into the night

Sweating and swearing

Pretend you don’t have a choice.

*

Magic pull

Burning fires

Tonight there are no liars

Only lovers in the full moon.

***

Written words – a wordless poem (a to z)

Wild roses losing their petals in the wind;

reWind the future, left forever in the past.

Watery tears, falling on deaf ears

Wilted blossoms, forgotten women.

Wide-open are the eyes of them

Weary and blind – wet from fright.

Wasted wars, too many died.

Wearing paper crowns made of fire

Weaknesses ignored, wilderness rediscovered

Wild at heart, we want to run – be free,

Walking toward the cut-down willow trees.

Wailing, staring at the cracked walls in our fragile minds

“Well, I do not know if this was ever real.”

Was it a dream, will we ever breathe?

Wondrous promises, delightfully unaware

Whispered secrets blown into thin air.

White flowers on coffins and graves

We wanted to be strong but wasted away,

Washing off our sorrow with the ashes of our sins.

Worried silence. Shhhh. Don’t say a word. It stays all within.

after it is all over

On the other side of the light

Sits a woman staring at me – blind.

I cannot see the words she screams

I am too busy coming undone – as it seems.

I must go, I must leave

“You are a liar, a thief.”

The sky is filled with diamond tears

The floor is laid out with age-old fears.

I cannot run,

I need a song.

The mirror hides my true face

Leaving me worried that my reflection fades.

And the clouds are on fire,

My thoughts are tired.

I want to drown in a serenity wall

Being at peace – is all.

But here is me, looking at the light

I turn away, too much night, not a single fight.

The wind is howling, kissing my naked skin

If I could, I would fly on its wings.

But I am trapped in my golden life

Until the day comes and my soul died.

***

This one was written after an unexpected anxiety attack a couple of days ago. (are they ever expected?!) I don’t get them often anymore, and it left me scared and agitated for too long. I am struggling. With everything. With who I am, but also with the quality of my writing. I can’t imagine going back to work in 5 weeks. I am too afraid to see people. I am good at home…