Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
Oh, and we're just departed ships
Basking in our own sun
We're just ghosts in the night
Passing corridors long
And I scan the pages
Crevices turn yellow, then brown
As I envelope your scent
I want to bring you down-
Crashing canvas
Entice, as I search for your sound
But you're nowhere to be found
No, I cannot see you around
You've left me long ago
A hollow body
I am now-
No longer how you left me,
I can still hear your sounds
As you whisper
Oh so softly
I can still taste your breath.
As you whisper sweet nothings
They encompass me now.
  Jul 2015 Rachel Lyle
Emily Von Shultz
I drive by the little green cottage,
barely visible from the street.
The property that has come to represent
and innocence lost.

I know that I can't go and knock on the door,
but I drive by again,
hoping to see a light on in the window
and to send some comfort to the little girl that used to live there.

She is sleeping there somewhere,
alone, afraid, and untucked...
but it won't be that way forever, darling,
I swear.
Hiraeth (n.) - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
I do not know who I was
When I did those things I did
Good and the bad
It makes no difference still
Because even at my happiest
I cannot remember who I was
I do not think I had a soul then
I think I was a sponge
I think I would engulf them
Until I felt they and I were one
Because I could not be alone then
Because I'd try to bite off my own thumb
From going mad inside my room
Mad inside my heart
A coldness overwhelmed me soon
When you and I would part
And I liked you best because you filled
My silly head with gold
You told me fanciful stories love
Inside of a princess room
You never knew me though
You see
I did not know myself
So I would sit at the old stoop
And let you tell me who I was
Who I would be
You hung the stars
The moon
The sun itself
They danced around your head
When you look at me now
I might as well be dead
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
I've got two more weeks
But I'm burnt
Crispy and fried
Belly full of resin
Stomach full of rye
And I think that I can do it
But sometimes I screech and cry
I've got two more ******* weeks
At least I can try
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
Blackened with weeks old mud
Through the wilderness
Cuts, bumps, lumps
As the child cries
Without a care
For any state of mind
It may be anywhere
Wrapped up in a tourniquet
Sprung in curlicue skies
Pink and blue cotton
Parades in my mind
Tiptoes so quietly
Now a thunderous cry
Silly stories
Fake lies
Crooked grins
Pour me the gin
I need to be pacified
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
He will return the years the locust has eaten.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
There is so much beauty
That never did take flight
There is a sense of wonder
In deep mysterious nights,
Listening to the old sage speak
I feel my heart take flight,
Through music chords
Shiny shores
Velvety delight,
Encapsulates me
And I dream
Forever in a spell,
If only I could stay right here
I would do very well
Next page