In the dark of the night
The quietest sigh
Betrays the silence
The broken longing
True hearts desire
Plucks at the strings making them resonate
With all the beautiful agony
A solo performance of momentary weakness
Brings a lump to the throat
The loneliness captured
Gone as quickly as a breath
The indiscretion swallowed in blackness
Leaving no one the wiser
Save the one who never forgets
It's waiting in my closet
My date dress
Just hanging there on its own hanger
Separate from the clothes of the normal day-to-day
Price tag still innocently attached
An impulse buy
But bought with purpose
For that day when it might be of some use
Because you can't be blind forever
One day you'll really see me
And I'll need that dress
I hope
It still fits
But who knows for how long
So you'd better wake up soon
Because I might just outgrow you
I didn't want to know that you love her
The flimsy illusion of belonging to you
treasured once for so long
now gone with only the wisps of the dream lingering
haunting like a sullen specter
unwilling to be completely exorcised by reality's blinding truth
You love her
The sound of your admission echoes on
reverberating like a broken record
replayed over and over in my mind
muting all sound but the beat of my heart
as it refuses to stop
bashing itself against the barricade of your affection
never knowing that its efforts will never be welcomed
Underneath
The inner stillness broken
The primal scream bubbles from the inside
Yearning to leech its way out
Against the clamped lips drawn together
A hard line preventing its birth—the last stand to save the outward façade
While pent up, the uncontrollable Medusa rages
Swinging me helplessly between compulsion and control
Carried in its wake with nothing to do but hang on
And wait as the mad-hatter's pendulum shifts yet again
Trapped in the web of your sugar-coated dreams
I fight against your paralyzing poison
As it whispers its way deeper into my subconscious.
I see what you do
Spinning a new expectation
Another layer of the cocoon to bind,
Strangle my thoughts, dreams, desires
To replace them with your own.
To change the pupa into another version of you,
A creature of your own form and of your own making.
Little shadowy kisses
Spin little white lies.
Three shades removed from reality
We make our primal paradise.
This passion's forbidden fruit stains all it touches
Like blood from our thieving fingers
Gashed as we grope for roses and settle for nettles.
Feeding lust on a bed of clover
Our fire-filled veins attract striking serpents
Slithering away with our secrets and so poisoned
The serum of consequence quenches the fever.
All that glitters is not gold
So she tucks herself away from prying eyes
Unwilling to test her mettle
Against the things of their worth
Content to watch her reflection
Sparkle brightly in her eyes
She knows what riches lie beneath
And quietly hides them deep inside
Where, glowing softly, she'll be found
By those who tire of the harsh glare
My pen rests
The words racing from head to hand stalled
Stopped midstream for no real reason
Just because
The ideas still forming in my mind
Take shape like signals rising from smoke
Leaving their imprint on my thought like the flowing ink in my pen
Makes an ink blot that slowly grows outward
Nipping at the corner of the rude scrawl that tried to capture the intangible
And I wonder what will remain—what will be remembered
And if the best of my legacy lies hidden in that ink blot
News dropped like a bombshell
deafening the senses beyond comprehension
continually echoing as I cover my ears
unable to drown out its dissonance
as it screeches its way deeper into my head
spreading the cacophony until it overwhelms
like a thin sheet of transparent ice
my reality shatters
scattering feeling and thought into a nexus of nothingness
as I plunge into a void of desperation
With baited breath, he waits asleep
for the dreams of his iron maiden
to pierce through reality, rendering silent dissent
with an ephemeral embrace
that will pull her close so she can rent him apart
exposing the hollow emptiness of his existence
before searing the fabric of his soul around her essence
drawing him into her joy, her pain, her ecstasy, her being
as though spearing them together
might make it somehow more real.
He awakes alone
a new being in an old body
breathlessly lingering in the ghost of her caress
wondering how he will make it through the day
till night can claim him once more.
It sticks to me--that hair
So long I could wrap it around my finger
Several fingers, in fact.
It stretched, too,
When I played with it
But it always bounced back
Until I really yanked hard
And pulled it from my head.
That hurt
But I'd do it again.
Now it clings to me, drawn by unseen attraction
Broken, lonely strand
Lingering like a bad dream.
Funny how that hair
Reminds me of you.
A Funny Kind of Feeling by Sparkler144, literature
Literature
A Funny Kind of Feeling
At first, a tiny flutter
like the sweep of a butterfly's wing
against a flower petal;
the song of hope and tomorrow,
harmonizing with ordinary time,
making it extraordinarily beautiful;
a single drop of crystallized love,
more precious than life itself,
growing into a sparkling bottomless ocean;
an untrod path, newly discovered,
covered with sweetgrass and roses,
gently swaying together in
a wave of unison;
then, a warm hand clasped in mine,
eyes looking past my mortal frame,
reaching out and embracing my soul
It is a promise--and a hope
the spark of potential and joy
that flashes in the eyes of all people;
Its beauty is repeated
over and over,
echoed in every silent breath and heartbeat,
clasped in the fist of a newborn
and etched in the wisdom of the elderly;
It is the product of a selfless act of love,
given freely
with the kiss of the future
and the esteem of the past,
entrusted to us to enjoy and protect;
A miraculous symphony,
a precious gift,
in celebration of the greatest offering
that could ever possibly be given to us
Life
Tears falling,
not gently like a spring rain,
but like a hurricane,
violent and sudden, without warning,
and then,
gone
The reservoir
dried and empty
-a pit once filled, now barren-
never to be truly full again
Empty chairs, missing flowers,
all for tragic heros with songs unsung
With bleeding hearts and dewy tissues,
time has written remembrance on every schoolmates' page
Moonlight washes over the land,
transforming the cold concrete and tattooed graffiti benches
into things of wonder and mystery.
The heavens smile down upon the earth,
parting the clouds and winking at us with one bright eye,
while the stars twinkle merrily
back and forth,
as if sharing a long distance secret.
It is a night when anything could happen.
For a minute, your face is cloaked in shadow,
and I feel as though I am sitting next to an enigma.
I watch as your eyes widen when the light shifts,
embracing me into the night.
My riddle has solved itself;
now, you must find the mystery behind the woman.
The thought makes me lau
We see what we have
and it is not much.
Our eyes are big and our hands quick to grab
more things that we think will satisfy
the void of desire,
but in the end,
leave us restless and craving for more.
We want that which we cannot have,
and do not realize
we have what others want.
Blind scribbles
lazily spread across the page:
a sea of smiley faces and daisies bravely
bridging the gap
between yawning empty spaces.
Cherry reds, pool table greens and sunshine yellows
merge and mingle,
a kaleidoscope of
nonsensical thought,
but pleasing
nonetheless.
Your eyes are cold,
reminding me of the deep depths
of the unexplored ocean.
Who knows
what monsters
may lurk beneath?
I peer out of my own portholes, expecting
to witness
a spark of happiness, a glimmer of feeling.
But only the night -unfeeling and endless- sneers back at me.
The mask hides your nature well,
like the sheepskin fits the wolf,
but the patchwork holes reveal all.
I was beginning to think that maybe I hadn't seen anything by you in awhile because I haven't actually viewed much of anything in the past few months. Thing is. You haven't put anything new up since April. I guess that gets me off the hook eh? heh. 'pokes' You should put some new poetry up soon. 'nods alot'
Aww! Thanks for taking the time to drop me a line. I didn't know that anyone would miss me when I took the summer off!
I'm hoping to keep adding to my deviations soon...muse-willing, of course. Thank you for the encouragement!
Out of the hundred plus people I watch, there's only really two handfuls I actually keep tabs on. You're one of 'em ^_^ I can't wait to see your new stuff.
They say flattery gets you nowhere, but this kind... I'm incredibly touched that you like my work enough to keep tabs on me. Heck, I'm always amazed that people actually take the time to read my scribblings. My only suggestion when clicking on a piece o' mine is to keep your expectations low...