spent time in my garden
now my hands are lined
with marks from thorns-
roses and raspberries
red and bleeding,
tracks left from nature’s
mighty protection …
i feel the lingering pain
and think of my heart throbbing
shredded and raw like my hands
from the love you gave me-
pricked and beautiful-
but so hurtful
Tag: art
daughter
afraid to love you
fragile and special
like China you are to me
and I’m too rough to keep
you safe
i fear you might break in my hands
because i don’t know how to hold
you
my heart stays hidden from you
lest my darkness transfer…
you are so very special to me
two sides
peace what’s peace
but a false lie about what
we should have if we tried harder-
there’s no quiet…
the walls of the room are closing
around… chest tight throat closing
the sound of guitar masking the pain
feeling like a child on a rainy day
sun shining breeze through my hair
smile on my face
but what’s to be done when darkness
comes knocking at the door?
i run to answer it knowing that it’s an old friend
greetings and hugs- we get down to business
i’m simply sitting at odds….
two sides of me at once
peaceful happy smiling face and darkened brooding inside me
this heart
as the day slowly wanes
and sunlight softens behind
the clouds that cooled the heat
with welcome rain I think of
what my heart would say
if she could speak in a manner
i could fully understand
about our past together…
would she feel warm like I do now
under cover of billowing clouds
or would she hate, like I’ve learned
from pain…
i think my heart might like to sing
because my soul tells me that she’s
an actress
cold void
oh how I wish for some distraction
from the loneliness of my heart…
but all the pretty flowers have been plucked
and the baby birds fell from the nest
into the mulch
and all that was glorious about the sun
leaves my skin burned and aching…
so within the cold void I linger now
waiting for my secrets to bubble up
because nothing stays hidden forever
when the quiet has silenced all else
slow drip of time
the restless ticking of an unrelenting clock
takes the quiet from my mind, as these
thoughts hover, thick as humidity,
upon my skin
with no distraction from the doldrums of
decency, i waited for you,
in the naked heat, so that you might liberate
my soul from the pain-if just for a short time-
but you never came
and I was left staring into the slow drip
of time…
back to you
obsessive and unnatural-
the curves of thought
spiraling into dirty depths
of diseased memory, that link
back to you
dark and twisted passion, engraved
by a tortured tool, remain etched
within the walls of souls-
writing that predates first breath
and solvency
and these violent acts of love,
tied forever back to your touch,
remain within twisted fingers
bound by string- always
leading back to you
prickly throne
these thoughts sit upon a prickly throne
uncomfortable, unsteady-
full of insecure reason as memories
shade the past with hues of gray
bestowed with a crown of disbelief
and touched with lunacy
these pitiful thoughts demand attention
as rabid emotion kneels in disdain
the garden
pulsating numbness and sweat beads
running down my chin;
the yard needs some tending
but I cannot seem to find the strength
to finish-
flowers everywhere mixed with weeds
and my heart spinning…just thinking
of what was said
though the dark nights are over, the waking has just begun…
So I will linger in the shade just a little longer
And then get back to the garden
sorrow
i have nothing left within me
to move forward
my head is swimming in images of the past
and my heart, cowers in the corner..
I am desolate, if that’s a word that can be used
to describe the utter lack of anything
that from me, slowly broods
I am nothing.. can’t you see that?
I am but a bird, lonesome, with a
broken wing… left behind
rewind… wait… did i leave or did you leave me?
I am so confused…
sinking down now, into what’s left of my
mind, i sigh… because there is nothing
left within me, but sorrow….
the SIBYL'S SONG 