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Scarlet Keiller Oct 2019
I am an aroma trapped in the haze,
So sweet and friendly like the taste of decay.
I know that I am sciatica and sage,
Reminiscent of an older age.
I feel like a cherry tree falling apart,
Season after season, a forest of art,
And candles burn in the bottoms of hearts,
Chocolate and smoke on the steps in the dark.
I can taste the fire on your mouth
And all the birds are flying south
But I can't bring myself to look at you. Not now,
Or maybe ever,
Because through this earth we've come together
And how do I know that two birds of feather
Can fly over mountains and valleys and heather
Without falling apart? Words over eyes,
I am blinded by the sun in the sky.
I was fog and shadow 'til you parted the vines
But what if this feeling that I had tonight
Is just your voice ringing in my ears,
Tinnitus, words that carry my fears.
The taste of your name is wild and fierce
Like the rowan or rose or stacks on the piers.
I am tripping and falling over all that is clear
In the water. So cold.
So cold, I have nowhere to go.
I am drowning in a world of all that I know.
I no longer have a place of my own,
I remember the scent of your laughter and prose
And I am all alone.
I am devastation, like sorrow and lies,
And I will crumble and wither until the reprise
Yet, despite your mouth being so close to mine,
I don't know what the touch of your hand implies.
I am lesser than you.
The shadows are warping, the valleys are blue.
My tongue is caught on the taste of the yew,
The water is rising like prayers on the pews.
Collapsed and free, I'm tumbling through
The oceans, the ashes, a lark full of rue.
Scarlet Keiller Oct 2019
Two days have passed since I last dreamt of you.
Lights appear before me and my eyes glare,
oceans, diamonds, blinding brightness filling me
to the brim. Eyes closed in the darkness,
I feel those heart feelings calling to me
once again, burning and twisting
in that dance we do when we’re together.
That blue, grey, blue mist,
heavy as the silence upon us; we watch
it rolling closer in the intermissions, eyes open
and breath fast, bodies fluttering closer in confusion.
Lonely birds are quiet and unnerving,
and nothing sings as the mountains disappear
into a lilac sky, white limbs devouring the forest,
edges of trees echoing through the blank earth.
I hear you bouncing and gleaming in the blindness,
that deep, white blindness, and you scatter me
all at once, render me wild and impatient.
I see your hands in her hair, shadowing
Josephine, the colour of your skin rippling
through the room. How do I tell you
that I am a dead end and you are a valley?
Petals on the river, in my hands, my feet,
I feel you leaving
all over again.
Scarlet Keiller Sep 2019
My legs dangle from the cliffside, soft against the creeping
border weeds and moss that tangle themselves in disruption
against black, wet rock. Caked in mud, I watch a bright
sky shift and dance in colour, a slow dance with gleaming
eyes and panicked hearts, drawing nearer as the horizon
fades to black. The mountains behind are devoured
by the haze of lilac haar bouncing over the waves
and, as the world disappears, I know all of the things
that make children laugh in the night, feel that stumbling
feeling of breathlessness, hands on your waist catching you
off guard. I hear that quiet melody rolling over the hills,
inching closer to our silence, with words burning
in our throats like bad music. I sway as the water does,
giggling on the stones, and when you reflect me in the dark
I wonder how it is those eyes can teach me all the sea
does to the devout. My hands still shimmer from where
you touched them last, the side you stood on beaming
all the way home. I hold you in my fingers, billowing
and whirling, and we're dancing a dance of our own.
Scarlet Keiller Sep 2019
The sun is in her eyes as she glides
through the trees, her hair tangled
with ocean, and she is extraordinary.
Looking at her, I am stranded
in that musical way, only a leaf
floating on a wide, wide river.
She swims beneath.
Miles away, I hear the winds reciting
her name, and even in September, she is a summer
watching the rains appear, reappear,
birds flocking in confusion.
I close my eyes and line the pages
with constellations, see the stars murmuring
on her forehead. Gold glimmers
in front of her eyes, my eyes,
and I am no one, nowhere.
Scarlet Keiller Aug 2019
I came from the old times dancing on a
hillside which toppled into lakes, tipping
down into endless valleys of green and
blue, my hands in the palms of a stranger.
I kissed him under fog as the oil rigs
skittered across the water, finches swooping
to protect their young. As a laughing melody
hummed between us, electric and satisfied,
I felt our hands shining so brightly in
the darkness around. I sang an old song
in the woods and it echoed back to me.

Roots run deep and wild. At first they lay quiet,
toes buried in moss, and I wondered if
the leaf felt my touch as silken, smooth as
water, or jagged as the stones beneath
it. And then they were livid, raging, boiling
under the surface as I stood above
screaming water, churning the earth from the
edges of the river, eating away
at the land I was bound to. Desolate
and sodden, I faltered on the borders
of my home town, longing for the heaviness
of salt to catch on my tongue once more.

And then I changed, or grew, and forgot what
it was I had lost. Now, looking down upon
empty forests, I no longer remember
the song they are singing, yet I hear the scent
of a dead earth, the sound of a mushroom
breaking at the stem. Lying on lamenting
sands, I feel a droplet land on my cheek
and, for a moment, feel a whisper
of home. Carrying my feet from the meadows,
I'll mutter softly, singing my melody alone.
Scarlet Keiller Aug 2019
How I feel, it's a sin, longing to be
something I've lost again. I can't find your
eyes in the crowd, yet the burn of your hands
still lingers on mine as our fingers reach out
across a breath of wind, desperate, calling
through the abyss, calling to be heard.
Blundering and old, I have begun to
long for you in that ancient, harmonious
way, mouth wide open, feet swinging
high above the ground. In between wisps of
dreams, I feel your hands in my hair telling
me all the secrets of the world, dark eyes
shining through the confusion. You
unravel me and leave me glowing on
the horizon, my body turned to ice
under invisible hands. Your trickling
words weigh me down, stick to my skin like tar
and feathers, itching. In silence, I can
taste the ghost of you on my tongue, honeycomb
bursting between my fingers. You crumble
before me, sugar on my limbs, but I
can't get the bitter taste out of my mouth.
I feel you echoing over my skin
and, for a moment, the warm of your breath
blazes on my lips. And then we fade,
dissipate, cold hands grasping at the sheets,
whimpers bouncing over the grey waves.
Scarlet Keiller Jun 2018
To the bone I am becoming,
losing track of what I wanted to be,
I'll find myself being pencilled in
with grayscale tones painted over me.

To the bone I am becoming,
break my fingers, my limbs and my soul,
you'll touch me as you wish, burning me thin,
'til I'm fragile - no parts of a whole.

To the bone, I am becoming,
even though I'm desperate to try,
because all I can taste is your hands on my skin
and bitter and dark was the fight.

To the bone, I am becoming,
I'm addicted to losing control.
My bedroom is littered with matchsticks and gin,
To the bone
To the bone
To the bone.
~~ Trying, failing, rinse and repeat. ~~
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