Tag: spilled thoughts

A Response Weighed

My phone weighs heavy on my heart,

Words unspoken and sublime.

Cracks in both feel so brittle;

Can you feel life between the lines?

My phone weighs heavy on my soul,

An anchor dragging as it falls.

Can you see the ripples fading,

As it carries me in tow?

My phone weighs heavy in my mind,

See the blood begin to drain.

All is gray now in my sight,

As the warmth fades to rain.

My phone weighs heavy in my hand,

Maybe metal, maybe stone.

I grasp it tightly for reprieve,

But it only helps to grieve.

Banshee’s Foe

In my early years I heard a tale

Of woe and death and ache;

The high pitched screams

That made our houses quake.

All down the streets,

Parents awake

Grab their ears

And in silence shake;

Praying to old gods

And new for a break.

For piercing shrieks

These beasts would make,

Tearing through stone

Through roads and lake,

Till none knew escape

Though all ran for their sake.

The recorder, a foul curse

Whose song could slay a drake,

Played by that awful devil,

A 5-year-old named Jake.

Chamomile & Honey

Breathless joy,

And echoing laughter in the night.

A soul lifted,

Brightened and polished by your presence.

A day,

Made bearable by your words.

Vulnerability,

Un-shielded in your arms.

Mere echoes,

These shouts into ink that reach for you.

Speechless,

My tongue tripping over all the things I love

About you.

Burnout

My thoughts are wriggling,

Thrashing in my overcooked brain.

Waves of heat radiate through my body

As tendrils crawl into my chest.

I am suffocating on my own experiences,

Choking on each second

Acutely aware of each breath

I know I cannot take.

A sharp metallic tang fills my nose,

Like metal grinding against bone–

Fracturing foundations like fingerprints

Pressed relentlessly into my skull.

I am falling asleep,

Yawning until I cannot see.

Exhaustion is all I can taste,

A slick oily sheen coated with sweetness.

I wake up a shell,

Memories intact.

Still tired.

So tired.

I combust and collapse.

Naught but ashes left

Of a well-worn soul.

Waking Whispers

I ache for your sleepy voice

Tangled in dreams,

The scent of breakfast wafting in,

Eyes fluttering in half-surprise.

I long for the touch of your lips

Pulling me back to warmth,

The scent of cinnamon

Tickling our noses.

I crave that look on your face,

Joyous contentment,

Soft and real,

Beyond anything I could have imagined.

A Wreck Reckoned as Naught

In my haste

I embraced

The worst of me,

Brushing aside

The gold inside

Till naught but iron gleamed.

With a heart full of rust

How could I trust

Worth lay within?

For every attempt to right

Felt like a bitter slight

And not some higher plan.

For how can you see

Among all this debris

Something worth saving?

Yet you have shown

I am no longer my own,

But merely an extension

Of your outstretched hands.