christinamarie-poetry - Hello Poetry

Why do I feel that what has always been mine is now connected to you? Because I wanted to share it with you, even if I never did? I pray that time will be my remedy, that what has always lived in my soul will again be fully my own. But is that truly possible – does not every love, even a small one, leave a mark on us forever?

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Mar 15

Mar 15, 2026 at 11:04 AM UTC

What is mine

Why do I feel that what has always been mine is now connected to you? Because I wanted to share it with you, even if I never did? I pray that time will be my remedy, that what has always lived in my soul will again be fully my own. But is that truly possible – does not every love, even a small one, leave a mark on us forever?

15

As March silently crept on, the cherry blossoms began to bloom: An unexpected sight. I found myself saying goodbye, once again, much too early – was I really this cold? Maybe something inside of me is still thawing, has not quite kept up with this sudden spring.

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Mar 15

Mar 15, 2026 at 10:47 AM UTC

Cherry Blossoms

As March silently crept on, the cherry blossoms began to bloom: An unexpected sight. I found myself saying goodbye, once again, much too early – was I really this cold? Maybe something inside of me is still thawing, has not quite kept up with this sudden spring.

10

It’s September. In my dreams I see nothing but your face, and when I wake I drown in watercolor skies, gold-rimmed clouds like crouching giants looking down on me, the leaves turning rotten and red, but my heart feels encased in glass, so pure, so precious. If I’m honest, I’ve got no idea what to do with this love, and so the days pass by, and it’s september – sometimes I feel like I can see everything that I am looking for in your gaze. Tell me, will you wait, until the leaves drop, the cold winter moon rises And I finally find the courage To shatter the constrictions of my heart?

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Feb 17

Feb 17, 2026 at 7:26 AM UTC

watercolor skies

It’s September. In my dreams I see nothing but your face, and when I wake I drown in watercolor skies, gold-rimmed clouds like crouching giants looking down on me, the leaves turning rotten and red, but my heart feels encased in glass, so pure, so precious. If I’m honest, I’ve got no idea what to do with this love, and so the days pass by, and it’s september – sometimes I feel like I can see everything that I am looking for in your gaze. Tell me, will you wait, until the leaves drop, the cold winter moon rises And I finally find the courage To shatter the constrictions of my heart?

23

I trust In the holiness of all living things Each leaf, every beetle The field mice, asleep in the tall grass. I believe In the kindness of love, every smile shared amongst strangers, the intimacy of truly knowing a friend. I surrender To the rhythm of the tides, the pull of the moon, the changing of the weather. Let me be still, and let me be whole, in this sacred earthly vessel of mine.

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Feb 17

Feb 17, 2026 at 7:01 AM UTC

february

I trust In the holiness of all living things Each leaf, every beetle The field mice, asleep in the tall grass. I believe In the kindness of love, every smile shared amongst strangers, the intimacy of truly knowing a friend. I surrender To the rhythm of the tides, the pull of the moon, the changing of the weather. Let me be still, and let me be whole, in this sacred earthly vessel of mine.

16

I loved you at the first of dawns, the first of lights, when in damp, green darkness a first of seeds cracked open by the incredidle warmth of - I loved you at the first of noises, when, fallen from the sky, something pure was ripped open and forever spoilt. a scream the birth of pain, and when, in the night you came alive blood started flowing through your veins like the waters licking the earth hungrily. I love you now, it's crooked limbs stretched eternally onward like gum, a hummingbird's golden lustre in stasis. When I silently love you tomorrow, and all of the embers have turned brittle like bone dust, between the falling stars into the great sea, in a constellation will whisper the lovers and the sun.

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Nov 15, 2021

Nov 15, 2021 at 2:53 PM UTC

the sun

I loved you at the first of dawns, the first of lights, when in damp, green darkness a first of seeds cracked open by the incredidle warmth of - I loved you at the first of noises, when, fallen from the sky, something pure was ripped open and forever spoilt. a scream the birth of pain, and when, in the night you came alive blood started flowing through your veins like the waters licking the earth hungrily. I love you now, it's crooked limbs stretched eternally onward like gum, a hummingbird's golden lustre in stasis. When I silently love you tomorrow, and all of the embers have turned brittle like bone dust, between the falling stars into the great sea, in a constellation will whisper the lovers and the sun.

25

Show me everything. For weeks I've been trying to get the words across my lips, trying to break your clenched-teeth silence, the stillness in us, orbiting in astral planes - but I do try, standing in empty stairwells, open doors and vacant rooms. If you try, I do not know. Show me everything. Show me that scar below your navel where they cut you open, laid to rest these hands that take their own turn cutting. Where breathing is machinery and living is a mess of tangled lines, where stealing away is not permitted for god help us if it makes anyone feel bad. So me and you carry the pain instead. Show me everything - a future I can hold protected, a light in the window across the street while I stand, in darkness, surrounded by expensive plastic things. Sometimes, for a fraction of time, I see that light in your eyes, a whisper of something tiny and sacred. A promise with a living, beating heart. I try to speak, but no words will come, and when they do, time has passed us by again, alone in a stairwell, in a dark supply room, in a room of machinery and robotic breaths. Have a good shift, then.

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Aug 20, 2021

Aug 20, 2021 at 5:14 PM UTC

Shift change - Part II

Show me everything. For weeks I've been trying to get the words across my lips, trying to break your clenched-teeth silence, the stillness in us, orbiting in astral planes - but I do try, standing in empty stairwells, open doors and vacant rooms. If you try, I do not know. Show me everything. Show me that scar below your navel where they cut you open, laid to rest these hands that take their own turn cutting. Where breathing is machinery and living is a mess of tangled lines, where stealing away is not permitted for god help us if it makes anyone feel bad. So me and you carry the pain instead. Show me everything - a future I can hold protected, a light in the window across the street while I stand, in darkness, surrounded by expensive plastic things. Sometimes, for a fraction of time, I see that light in your eyes, a whisper of something tiny and sacred. A promise with a living, beating heart. I try to speak, but no words will come, and when they do, time has passed us by again, alone in a stairwell, in a dark supply room, in a room of machinery and robotic breaths. Have a good shift, then.

12

I can forgive. If that is what you want me to do - if that is what you need. I'm full of forgiveness for you already, full of a gentle compassion, of knowing we are both stuck, and haven't been ready, and maybe still aren't.

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Jul 23, 2021

Jul 23, 2021 at 4:55 PM UTC

The Lovers in Reverse

I can forgive. If that is what you want me to do - if that is what you need. I'm full of forgiveness for you already, full of a gentle compassion, of knowing we are both stuck, and haven't been ready, and maybe still aren't.

8

They way your spine curves under my fingertips, the change of tone in your voice when you're joking, an invisible smile mirroring in your eyes, floating, like fog over water at dawn.

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May 14, 2021

May 14, 2021 at 5:40 PM UTC

To know you

They way your spine curves under my fingertips, the change of tone in your voice when you're joking, an invisible smile mirroring in your eyes, floating, like fog over water at dawn.

6

In the parish garden behind my house they have stacked up the benches now from dead sunday, then easter. The last of the soft light of an april day gently grazing the young grass. Ashes falling from a balcony, settling on the ground in a whisper, as if the world has unanimously decided on stillness for today.

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Apr 16, 2021

Apr 16, 2021 at 2:17 PM UTC

Above

In the parish garden behind my house they have stacked up the benches now from dead sunday, then easter. The last of the soft light of an april day gently grazing the young grass. Ashes falling from a balcony, settling on the ground in a whisper, as if the world has unanimously decided on stillness for today.

11

green cotton threads have you switched professions? Heres that amlodipine you asked for - grazing my fingers, you can explain it better than me. Where do I end up if I keep writing about every single one of our encounters?

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Apr 2, 2021

Apr 2, 2021 at 8:05 PM UTC

Anesthesia

green cotton threads have you switched professions? Heres that amlodipine you asked for - grazing my fingers, you can explain it better than me. Where do I end up if I keep writing about every single one of our encounters?

8