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seekai
seekai
“If he had been happy in love at eighteen, he would never have wanted to become a writer.” / / ~ Gustave Flaubert / / / instagram: @seekai.poetry
I walk through a ghost town where I’m never alone, kicking empty cider cans across the road, whispering secrets to the stale, morning air where my life, at a standstill, hangs over the beat of a single heart and a single large Eye, watching, always watching, judging my footsteps as I cross the path, to a flatland, between the forest and the streams of music playing in my ears - there's a spring in my step this cold winter. Even though I don’t see the sun until it’s too late, I dance, like the dead, poison in my veins, because I’m free from my grave. I’m free from monochrome soil - draped in a bright pink dress, I kiss the days away with a warm hand in mine, and a stolen, back-washed bottle in the other. I skip on the pavement, rocking back and forth to high notes and drum rolls, where I find myself moving between friends and pages, collared sweatshirts and daydreams. I whisper my moments of happiness to the North Wind and hope it travels South, down to you, down home, where you’ll hear of my vices and understand everything.
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Sep 2, 2021
Sep 2, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC
Camp
There’s a dull ache, in my stomach, and it pushes me down, covers my skin and it’s scars, and I can’t stop flirting with the pain. I’m asking it to reveal itself, show me what it has, if it dares, but I can’t help but wonder, how you’d feel in the palm of my hand - I wake to that sense of familiarity, of the outline of your face, and the jaw that locks itself in my brain, the dark, murky waters of my chest. Let’s move from our bed, the one that used to be mine - now it’s shared with you and your demons as their legs lock, intertwined. Show me more, and more, ignore the way my heart screams silently. I can feel the roughness of your cheek in my dream, but that’ll be all.
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Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 10:22 AM UTC
The roughness of your cheek, in my dreams
I wonder if every morning, you sigh when you wake. If you force a smile when you look in the mirror, and pour out your emotions with the milk. I wonder if you think about me when you walk like a ghost through corridors, floating behind the eyes of everyone else, thinking you’re unseen. I wonder if you scream in your head, begging to be heard, or if you’re used to being a sheet of paper, once white but drawn over by the people you love. I wonder if there’s colour in your life. If the reason you lie behind closed eyes is just because you’re scared. I wonder if you sleep dreaming about a better life, only to be awoken again in a bleak nightmare you can’t escape. I hope -
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Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 10:19 AM UTC
Wonder
Walking hand in hand on the beach Our footprints in the sand The cool summer wind that breathes It’s life across the land. I see the summer memories That float by in my eyes I feel the taste of happiness blow As I stare up at the skies Summer has held many great things. Parties, silly fun. But one thing I won’t forget Is our time in the sun. I feel warm when I’m next To you. Walking side by side. On this beach as we relive the times Where we all laughed and cried. It’s summer that gave us this I'll remember that when you go I’ll hold your hand and keep you close But you’ll leave one day, I know. So I reach the end of the strip The water lapping at our feet The summer thoughts that now fly by Oh, they’re good but bittersweet. The summer has now reached an end But I need you by my side. Too late, you’re gone. Walked back into the tide.
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Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
Memory Beach