Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
9
13-9-19-19
25-15-21
limited.

vulnerable.

raw.

primitive privileges.

pen.

paper.

outdoors.

you.

aching.

longing.

me­.

pen.

paper.
assertive wind
tearing through
my saltless hair.

restless waves.

fading cornflower-blue sky
& pale pinks and purples.

our star sinking slowly
into the horizon,
swallowed by the lake.

smokey wisps and whirls
float among the aimless
muted gray puffs akin.

we walk beside each other
in constant companionate
chatter.

carefully
stack &
balance
lakefront
jagged
rocks
&
smooth
pebbles
atop
sturdy
stones.

i want to hold his hand.

badly . . .

but i reel myself in.
i don't hold his hand.

because i know
it is not his hand
i am longing to hold.

it's yours.
paranoia.
guilt?
shame.

shadows dancing down the stairwell.
wide-eyed side glances toward the hall.

flashback:

slouched
like a crescent moon.
vulnerable like never before,
i allow myself to be seen
as i sink further into the brown fabric.

"you just sunk your ship deeper."

fear-striken eyes.
no . . . used to the defeat.

trembling fingertips
aimlessly yet methodically
tapping at glass.
hopeless.
useless.

tear-stained cheeks,
rubbed-raw skin
& bloodshot eyes.
hallows beneath my
chocolate brown
windows.

a heat-kissed flush
paints my face
as i gingerly sweep
a curtain of hair
from my view.

my view of my
nightmare.
only i'm not asleep.

fast forward:

frozen.
silent.
listening for footsteps.
coward
no . . .
guilt?
no . . .
shame.

i just sunk my ship deeper.
lights dim, warm
like the tongues of tiny flames
grazing my skin.

walked-on carpet,
not as fluffy as day one
beneath my bare feet.

hem of my white dress,
tiny yellow flowers
blossoming at my toes.

chin and summer-flushed cheek
resting heavily, sulking
against my fist.

breathing accelerates.

the thrill.
the oblivion.
the fear.
the relief.
the loneliness.
the aching.
the feeling-found.
the feeling-seen.
the possibility--

--of words,
pen to paper.

right in front of me

"write,"
i command my fingers.

"write and never stop."
  5d DElizabeth
N
In a dream,
I kiss your hand because all my
longings were engraved in your palms

Because no tongue can speak
your secret language but mine

I gave you my last clementine
because I almost died when
I saw you cry for the first time

I wanted to be the one to peel it for you,
but I knew you would resent me if I did

And because of you, my teary eyed lover,
I struggle to understand
another’s language but yours
An actual dream I had. Ah.
DElizabeth Jun 15
not a day that went by
did the lull become dull.

every waking moment that passed,
only deepened the ache
that roared within
these weary bones.

every atom
every cell
every heart beat
every inhale
every exhale
and with every fiber
of my being,
do i still want you.

i wanted you then
i want you now

will you want me too?

every moment
every memory
every glance
every touch

you live inside of me now,
from the moment our
souls collided
like the inevitability
of the thrashing navy waves
crashing upon the rocks at shore.

"i had all
and then most of you,
some, and now none of you..."


i find you in the gold sunrises,
i find you in the pink sunsets.

i find you in the california poppies,
and among the ripe sweet figs.

i find you between the branches and rained-on leaves,
park benches and hearts on sleeves.

i find you in the supermarket flowers,
i find you in the browning pages between my fingers . . .

mostly, i find you in the words.
the words between the soft melodies
and heavy harmonies . . .

the songs i used to throw myself into
i consciously avoid,
like a wound you are too afraid to rip
the bandage off too soon in case it hasn't
healed fully . . .

yet it's all i feel i have left of you . . .

darling
you never called me by my name

darling . . .
don't leave me,
not now
not ever . . .

the time,
reckless.
abandoning ship
as it uncontrollably
tears through all
sense and space.

the time . . .
the time we lost,
never saved . . .

time we had,
never made . . .

the time we made,
never had . . .

never paused,
never tamed . . .

not reclaimed,
just replayed . . .
Next page