Be careful what you ask of the Universe
She listens
She responds
I have found my inspiration
but I may have lost my lover.
Author / Latisha Lo
Silent Screams
Past wounds penetrated by the slice of fresh memories
and the pain isn’t foreign to me
bleeding into reality like the blood on the leaves
the fantasy of bodies flying over car hoods onto the concrete
spilling into the earth like tears spilled onto leather car seats
that absorbed my pain n muffled my screams
this time you will hear me and this time you will see me.
Complacency
I’ve reached the point in my relationship where I’m uncomfortable enough to write again. Poetry flows out of my pens like tears from my eyes, and I’m not sure how to feel.
Does anyone else get writer’s block from being too content in life?
What is Love? PT II
Is it meant to heal?
Releasing catharsis through veins like gravel poured over the roses in the concrete.
Layers of comfort and complacency piled on top of each other – sedimentary rock
Numb. Ash.
A natural disconnect forms an ecosystem of comfort, care, pressure, love.
A metamorphosis.
Transformation so great, it’s almost metapoetry.
Fear metastasized into strength in the soul of a new being
Bonded together with pressure, incubated in an atmosphere of trust
Love is what we breathe.
It can be heard in the song of the wind
Or seen in the dance of the raindrops
free-falling from the safety of the cloud to the callous rock
Yet landing on the tender web of a spider
Spun delicately, deliberately and at the perfect time.
Dampening our fortress –
Without sacrificing the safety of its home.
drafts
I still love you.
I never stopped and I always have.
The truth is –
I don’t know how to
stop loving you.
I can be completely happy
with someone else
moved on.
but when I
hear the sound
of your voice,
it all comes rushing back.
For My Uncle
My body tensed when I realized I’d have to go from the present to the past when I spoke about you.
Simple syntax becomes a catalyst for epiphany
The only place that you’ll live is in my mind
And they say all wounds heal with time
But this gash penetrates my core.
You’re not here with me anymore.
Daily Prompt: Fret
Everyone loves to see my smile
so big, beautiful, infectious
magnetic and genuine
but the world can only see
all that I pretend to be.
It seems we all get caught up
in appearances, distanced from reality.
The real me is always an arms-length away.
And I like it that way.
I keep it that way.
Keeping you farther and farther
from my pain before I implode
with no more warning than my trembling lips and fingertips signing for help while they push you away,
crying for comfort but begging for space.
I fret you won’t understand
this brokenness as I lie in a broken mess
of tears and bleeding wrists inflicted from a sharp tongue,
and sharper voices in my mind cutting deeper into the wells of insecurity.
My own hands dig deeper into flesh searching my veins for happiness.
Why Love?
Because the dopamine high I get while your soul dives into mine can only be matched by the way my heart flutters when you smile.
The way you smile and chinky eyes lit up my soul
something I still don’t understand,
but the way you held me
cared for me
treated me
like a princess fit for royalty.
That is where the love lies.
In the way you looked into my eyes and it felt like our heartbeats synchronized.
Why love?
The beauty in its simplicity.
You saw me as all I ever wanted to be.
Now, I see myself twice as much for the both of us.
Make love to myself sweeter than you ever did
Caress my body more softly, more sweetly,
Sweet love, the erasure of insecurity.
It runs so deep, it radiates through my fingertips.
Safe, sacred, living energy.
“In our Western understanding of time we involve the correlative of distance. The past is away in that direction, the future in that, and the present is just here, where I happen to be. But we speak of the passage of time; times come and go, the day will come. We remain in place and observe the flow of time, just as we sit at the cinema and watch, fascinated, as images fly before our eyes. The plane of time is shattered; it is composed of moments, ad infinitum, in perpetual motion.”
N. Scott Momaday, “On Indian-White Relations: A Point of View”
Broken Love
They say it’s better to have loved and lost than not loved at all…
Well I’m calling bullshit on that one.
I don’t think it’s better to have given my all to someone who took it for granted
Only to desire me as long as his dick could stand for it.
Leaving me with a broken heart in my hands
Ripped from my sleeve
I bleed, for you.
I loved for you.
Sacrifice and lonely nights, but I loved.
And now am lost.
#PostADay !
Next month is National Poetry Month, and I will be celebrating by posting at least 1-3 poems per day in an attempt to repair my abysmal current posting schedule. Xo
Pyromaniac
Stability produces sanity but drains creativity.
I long for the tainted turmoil of relationships past,
We were fire and fire and I burnt out.
The all-consuming chemical, my love for you
combusted when I tasted the flavour of your lips
n felt the linger of your touch tantalize my skin
sending shockwaves of heat through my bloodstream.
A drug coursing through my veins,
I remain intoxicated.
Self-love abated by addiction –
for my drug of choice.
Flames burned wildly in my being ,
emaciating all of what I thought I knew.
Tearing down the walls of my heart,
scorching muscles, nothing left but tar.
Rebuilt myself with the ashes of our love,
Strangely stronger than before.
No longer comfortable in my own home.
I seek the warmth of your being
unseeing fear and consciousness
flying closer to my Sun
unafraid.
