mollie-rose-trail - Hello Poetry

Crepe myrtle blooms, pink like the blush of fever roots growing from the broken bones and spirit but drinks from the lingering passion of past lovers. Your footsteps are the creeping of violets throughout the garden, yet I can feel your touch on the air as it rains, your memory like the wood smoke from across the street. I lick my lips, apology and sin, at the tip of my tongue.

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Sep 17, 2016

Sep 17, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC

Fervor of the Broken (To Emily pt. 2)

Crepe myrtle blooms, pink like the blush of fever roots growing from the broken bones and spirit but drinks from the lingering passion of past lovers. Your footsteps are the creeping of violets throughout the garden, yet I can feel your touch on the air as it rains, your memory like the wood smoke from across the street. I lick my lips, apology and sin, at the tip of my tongue.

7

Lavender and sage drift in waves of smoke soft and subtle like your ebony hair flowing through my fingers as my lips brushed yours. Blood rushes to my cheeks and I gasp still- fever overcoming shock as you touch me, siren on land waiting for the tide to come in. Once a hesitant explorer, meekly tracing your beckoning curves and scars I now salivate- wet with hunger to devour you inch by inch. But we are little more than bleached bones, memories grinding into dust with one foul move blown away in the wind to feed new life.

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Sep 17, 2016

Sep 17, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC

To Emily

Lavender and sage drift in waves of smoke soft and subtle like your ebony hair flowing through my fingers as my lips brushed yours. Blood rushes to my cheeks and I gasp still- fever overcoming shock as you touch me, siren on land waiting for the tide to come in. Once a hesitant explorer, meekly tracing your beckoning curves and scars I now salivate- wet with hunger to devour you inch by inch. But we are little more than bleached bones, memories grinding into dust with one foul move blown away in the wind to feed new life.

12

I cant stand silence anymore. All it does is amphlify all the worse thoughts in my mind bounce along the walls and echo such a cacophony of metaphysical sound that my body cringes. Alone, that inner dialogue of infection steps away from the recess and whispers. And alone, the sound carries. Sleep is impossible without a fan and the AC is loud enough downstairs that sitting alone is only miserable. I stretch out and my eyes find my phone, distraction a short term remedy but no... I remember the sound of your fan sitting in the door of your room, our bodies intertwined, skin on skin the warmth forming sweat that ran like your cat across the room, the maniac. I remember the sound of your AC, you so proud that your new place had it, sweet symphony to your ears, a pleasure that spread like my legs and the cold rush drowned out by the heat of you inside me. I recline back in darkness, AC clicking on images rushing past, hunger churning. Too sad to eat, too tired to sleep - nonsense Nonsense that something so small, normal meant so much and could cause all this.

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Sep 9, 2016

Sep 9, 2016 at 2:38 AM UTC

The Sound of Silence

I cant stand silence anymore. All it does is amphlify all the worse thoughts in my mind bounce along the walls and echo such a cacophony of metaphysical sound that my body cringes. Alone, that inner dialogue of infection steps away from the recess and whispers. And alone, the sound carries. Sleep is impossible without a fan and the AC is loud enough downstairs that sitting alone is only miserable. I stretch out and my eyes find my phone, distraction a short term remedy but no... I remember the sound of your fan sitting in the door of your room, our bodies intertwined, skin on skin the warmth forming sweat that ran like your cat across the room, the maniac. I remember the sound of your AC, you so proud that your new place had it, sweet symphony to your ears, a pleasure that spread like my legs and the cold rush drowned out by the heat of you inside me. I recline back in darkness, AC clicking on images rushing past, hunger churning. Too sad to eat, too tired to sleep - nonsense Nonsense that something so small, normal meant so much and could cause all this.

29

Bumps raise across my skin - summer left with haste. I shrug and cringe but dont reach for the blanket at my side. I stare and remember the heat radiating from your bare skin. The holidays are coming - what joy. If I were never to gain your heart, Id have liked your warmth through winter.

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Sep 9, 2016

Sep 9, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC

After You Drop Me Off

Bumps raise across my skin - summer left with haste. I shrug and cringe but dont reach for the blanket at my side. I stare and remember the heat radiating from your bare skin. The holidays are coming - what joy. If I were never to gain your heart, Id have liked your warmth through winter.

10

A little green dot means so much more than the fact that you are online. It brings back our first conversations, hours of struggling to type each word but I fought my broken phone anyway and you waited patiently. We would sit at work and talk send gifs of **** and ache, yearn to see each other again and we couldn't wait. You stripped me of every defense, and most of my clothes, so quickly I didn't have time to think not to and I'm glad I didn't. I never sat and talked to someone, touched someone in simple ways, become so familiar with them and I got afraid. I see that green dot and I want, want to send you ***** pics, want to apologize, want to cry, want to just talk again. I see that green dot by your name, and yes, I think of that short period of something never meant to be, but only because a fresh wound stings. I see that green dot and I want, I want to feel that way again. But it won't be with you. And I'm okay with that. Mostly

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Sep 7, 2016

Sep 7, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC

To Michael

A little green dot means so much more than the fact that you are online. It brings back our first conversations, hours of struggling to type each word but I fought my broken phone anyway and you waited patiently. We would sit at work and talk send gifs of **** and ache, yearn to see each other again and we couldn't wait. You stripped me of every defense, and most of my clothes, so quickly I didn't have time to think not to and I'm glad I didn't. I never sat and talked to someone, touched someone in simple ways, become so familiar with them and I got afraid. I see that green dot and I want, want to send you ***** pics, want to apologize, want to cry, want to just talk again. I see that green dot by your name, and yes, I think of that short period of something never meant to be, but only because a fresh wound stings. I see that green dot and I want, I want to feel that way again. But it won't be with you. And I'm okay with that. Mostly

31

Eyes stare out but they don't see a cat crossing the street. Bass drums thunder inside headphones but she doesn't hear. Her heart static as a message appears sweet words and thoughts. A fly hovers near swat, swat, swat it won't go away. Like the tears. A constant reminder that she is dying on the inside.

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Sep 7, 2016

Sep 7, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC

Carrion or Carry on

Eyes stare out but they don't see a cat crossing the street. Bass drums thunder inside headphones but she doesn't hear. Her heart static as a message appears sweet words and thoughts. A fly hovers near swat, swat, swat it won't go away. Like the tears. A constant reminder that she is dying on the inside.

15

Her red dress frayed at the edges like her nerves her fingers tapped a lost beat don't sweat it but her fingers touched glistening drops of liquid courage borrowed like the lipstick staining the rim keep a lid on it heels loud against cement, echoing a rhythm like rehearsed lines the memories of which followed her coffee and spilled words eloquently falling in place, settling like sugar on the bottom hands stilled by their sweet murmurs of her acceptance.

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Aug 24, 2016

Aug 24, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC

The Interview

Her red dress frayed at the edges like her nerves her fingers tapped a lost beat don't sweat it but her fingers touched glistening drops of liquid courage borrowed like the lipstick staining the rim keep a lid on it heels loud against cement, echoing a rhythm like rehearsed lines the memories of which followed her coffee and spilled words eloquently falling in place, settling like sugar on the bottom hands stilled by their sweet murmurs of her acceptance.

16

Like an OCD psychologist, I analyzed my behavior breaking everything down digging to the roots the core emotions that I felt: insecurity, fear of being hurt. I laid out the physical and verbal dialogue of my body and words, highlighting those that reflected that pain and turmoil inside. If insecurity was blue and fear of being hurt purple, well... that hidden dialogue was striped much like the Cheshire cat invisible behind a nodding head, wide grin and endless laughter. If you studied your own actions studying every move like a hunter on the prowl, patient what would be your true colors?

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Dec 5, 2015

Dec 5, 2015 at 2:56 AM UTC

Behind it

Like an OCD psychologist, I analyzed my behavior breaking everything down digging to the roots the core emotions that I felt: insecurity, fear of being hurt. I laid out the physical and verbal dialogue of my body and words, highlighting those that reflected that pain and turmoil inside. If insecurity was blue and fear of being hurt purple, well... that hidden dialogue was striped much like the Cheshire cat invisible behind a nodding head, wide grin and endless laughter. If you studied your own actions studying every move like a hunter on the prowl, patient what would be your true colors?

20

Two inches of snow, untrodden boots digging in, holding on but when they hit traveled roads slip Paths dotted with the footprints one set, two sets, three sets four, with all the more to slide When the snow is so shallow, the path less traveled is safer. And so it reminds me too of life

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Dec 2, 2015

Dec 2, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC

Snowy Sidewalks

Two inches of snow, untrodden boots digging in, holding on but when they hit traveled roads slip Paths dotted with the footprints one set, two sets, three sets four, with all the more to slide When the snow is so shallow, the path less traveled is safer. And so it reminds me too of life

12

The wooden pulpit split cracked like thunder and from its splinters came life, green and flowing vines that slithered and twined their bodies from pulpit to pew and from it burst roses every color of a sunset except those holding together the pulpit she stood behind those were white as the moon.

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Nov 28, 2015

Nov 28, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC

Divine Beginnings (pt. 1)

The wooden pulpit split cracked like thunder and from its splinters came life, green and flowing vines that slithered and twined their bodies from pulpit to pew and from it burst roses every color of a sunset except those holding together the pulpit she stood behind those were white as the moon.

11