dropped…

She suppose
the drop off box is where
he meant to leave her
having finished his quick feel
it is an unwelcoming cold
laying in her core
yet, how indicative though
of this past year or so
having shown her
a repetitive model
cruel is the typical
facade of men
and thus turning her heart
into an unflattering muse 
lined of cold steel

bare…

Somedays

I am are left without color

in stark contrast

slipping into dark

smoked lined eyes

nude my shade

touching pale lips

dimming light

shadows my confidant

I lay bare on hazy lines

dare not cross into your hours

with eyes full of confession

days into nights

fall afar

little bits of time

soak into the grain of wood

here I am

near you

felled silently

#novemberfalls #hazyday @breath_words @aseawords 
#handwritten #poetry #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig 
#poetryofinstagram #poetry #poeticsighs #smokeyeyes #nudelips #somedays #slient #spillingink #heartspiller

once upon a sleeper…

you opened my cocooned pod
I felt the ice melting
from my cryogenic sleep
raising my beats
from shunned to shine
I began to upcycle wasted tears
eyelashes coated with stardust 
I braved the idea of possibilites
conquered a black diamond run
one turn at time
I was felled darling
with black dove wings
trying to reach peace
atop your sky…

I don’t know now 
where you are…

til death steals…

cannot fathom such touch anymore
its meaning slit and deleted 
gone 
dissipated
desire
in the h0urs, days, months
lost track 
what is like anymore
in between the heat of thighs
moans and sighs loitering no longer
her youth stolen
her prime unwanted 
do they find pleasure in wasting her
no understanding of their inner working 
perhaps she has known all along
the poetry of being used
tossed aside
wasted 
unwanted
unloved
so offensive is she? deserving?
and yet she burns evermore
burn baby burn
Til death upon death 
steals this soul’s fire 

I have forgotten…

I have forgotten this thing
this thing called breathing
what it’s like to lay
effortless
easy
unaware 
unaffected…

I have fogotten this thing
this thing called comfort 
what its like to be wrapped
safely tucked in
warm
weatherproofed
protected…

I have forgotten this thing
this thing called forgetting
forgetting to forget
your color
your beauty
your reflection
sound of every word you’ve written…

I have forgotten this thing
this thing called L (cursor blinking)

no! I haven’t forgotten
*erases that line

I don’t know this thing
this thing called

…LOVE…

atom & cell…

more than anything 
as she becomes further matter
as she is more dissected 
thinned
finer
defined particles 
these atom & cell
more the less chance 
of breathing 
combing into he
She is feeling loss
an end before beginning 
to become he & she 
A Whole…