Soon, I promise.

The sun steals its way through the cracks,

Passes your fingers,

Where, for a moment it lingers,

Before nestling comfortably between hers,

“Soon,” you whisper closing the door behind you,

She stirs, rubbing her eyes,

She awakens to a cold, crisp morning –

“‘Soon‘ is nothing but a distant memory of you,” she whispers back to the sun.

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I own you

My soul stripped bare,

Your utterances are nothing but –

Empty promises that pierce old wounds,

My tongue twists around your name,

It cuts along the jagged edges,

 

 

So you drive the dagger deeper –

Tightening the noose around my neck.

A stitch in time?

Broken souls pick themselves up,

Stitching the frayed ends

To cushion the heart

I must have been careless the last time

Possibly left a loose thread,

The one you pulled –

To leave me in a heaped up pile around your feet

Burnt fingers

I feel broken beyond repair,
My heart slowly charred over time,
As if burnt on hot coal.
Crippled by your own fear,
You sabotage love for an apparition,
In the hope that a mirage will fill your void.

I promise we’ll talk

I string words together in pretty sentences
To help me heal
But this time words don’t come so easily
You took them from me
The bruise aches a little too much
Silencing me
The pain soars through me
Making me tongue tied
Numbing my fingers –
They just can’t write like they once did

Sometimes things fall apart

I lie here tangled in you,
Your fingers trace the spaces between mine,
Spring’s sun pierces through trying to catch a glimpse –
As our shadows dance on ruffled sheets.
The sound of the rain hammers against the glass,
Awaking me from my slumber,
The dullness of the grey lingers to remind me –
I lie here tangled in the memory of you

Winter Solstice

Wrap me with the veil you cast above the world,

I long to feel those stars prick my skin instead,

And the silver light with which you greet celestial bodies,

Let that scar me instead.

The shooting star that darts across the sky,

I long for it to burn inside me instead,

And the rain that falls when the night is black,

Let it gently trickle down my spine instead.

The wind that howls on a cold winters eve,

I long for it to embrace me instead,

And the stillness of night without the moon,

Let me become that instead.