When you speak to me,
Your words turn into butterflies
That surround me, lovingly.
Tag: poem
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He dances with the beast under a dim street lamp in perfect synchrony, but only one can be seen. Cold rain commences; the tears start to stream. He dances wildly to expel the darkness and temper the misery. The beast continues to dance, but in agony, loudly he wails, painfully.
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In and out of consciousness, before she left, she reached for her son, who wept with his head turned, and in that moment, she released all the pages of her depths, so that even in death, he could hold onto her; and with all the strength she had left, she lovingly whispered three words to him, while wiping away the tears of his weeping, in her last breaths.
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The gauntness of flesh is the cruelty of illness.
Stillness of tormented bodies at 4 AM
is not sleep, but unceasing listlessness.
The wounded heart is known through
many tears and sincere utterances.
Unsightly scars denote the attempted escape
from unbearable agony;
Under dim lighting in a small room with heavy curtains,
a trembling insomniac moves slowly.
In pitch darkness, the sorrowful hold onto
banisters in cold temperatures, wailing uninhibitedly;
The chief torment of the anxious mind is life’s uncertainty.
From birth to death—in-between,
the afflicted struggle for breath.
Even in their mother’s wombs
babies become stressed;
Stillborn babies are kissed,
given names, and mourned.
In late cold December winters,
distressed hearts are torn.
Unsettling letters are received before they grieve
starting with, We regret to inform …
In the pregnancy of the void
some wither away, and some are reborn.
The soul’s balm is the healing of love;
But from its inception it must be pure—
and unadulterated in the properties of its medicine.
A winter baby is delivered from her dying mother’s womb,
and through blood and pain, life begins again.
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You cover me, like freshly laundered white linen
over varnished rosewood tables;You cover me, like an abandoned child
protected under the mighty hands of the archangels;You cover me, like a black veil over the face of
a grieving widow in agony, with the residue of pain
that was left behind silently on her pillows;You cover me, like shade from the heat of the sun
under the tears of a weeping willow;You cover me, like the broad wings of the Harpy Eagle
diligently hovering over her young;You cover me, like the ozone layer over the earth,
protecting her from the sun;You cover me, like a newborn
under the doting eyes of his mother’s embrace;You cover me, every time you wipe away my tears
and gently kiss my face. -
Death whispers in cold breaths promising solace in the throes of agony;
I will take away the pain if you just let me.
Hair drapes over a chair in a dimly lit room at 2:30.
Faces in picture frames stare unemotionally.
Her makeup is perfect;
Her lipstick and lashes, immaculate.
Through a child’s eyes she would be a beautiful doll.
Her final act is the unabridged revelation of her torment.
In her unmasking there are no subtleties;
There are no whispers;
There are no mysteries to the state of her reality.
Lifelessness is displayed crudely;
Its finality is its cruelty.
Outside, early morning rain falls in darkness.
Inside, there is a preternatural stillness.
She is gone forever, leaving behind possessions,
And the blood of her essence.
She wept in her last moments, listlessly whispering
Words that no one could witness.
Tears that fell from her eyes,
Carried the agony of her remnants.
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In their struggle for power they have lost their souls.
They have become husks of flesh
With no eyes in darkened sockets—
Flailing their arms in eternal darkness;
They climb one over the other, tirelessly,
Pursuing ascendancy doggedly.
With clenched fists, one by one,
They scream blindly,
Falling into the abyss. -
My soul holds onto you as if I need you to breathe.
Strands of hair and gold earrings in pillowcases,
Your aura refuses to leave. -
When you kiss me, you release my desolate spirit into ethereal transcendence. The light in you, is the beauty of your radiance. Your lips are as sweet as Diamante strawberries, freshly picked, and steeped in flowing chocolate rivers. An angel shimmers under the glory of heavenly light; in the turning of your head, I see the brightness of the diamonds in your eyes. You move me to emotion because I have witnessed the depths of your cries. I love you; If I was blind, still, I would see you clearly with no eyes. The peace of your aura is like a quiet stream, gracefully flowing under a full moon and clear skies. I can run to no one else but you; In the embrace of your breasts I am intoxicated by the scent of your perfume. The length of your curls are like heavenly waterfalls flowing infinitely, with no beginning, and with no ending. The tone of your skin, is like a variation of beautiful colors, infinitely blending.
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I took the parts of you that they so quickly discarded and that no one wanted, and held them, and kissed them, and nurtured them, and loved them, and washed them, and polished them; and until I wept, extended my arms with open hands under the light of heaven—and when I drew my arms back in, I looked, and discovered that all along, I had been holding precious diamonds.
