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 Feb 2016 Anniebell Lector
She sleeps soundlessly.
Surrounded by fluttering pages,
exhausted from living
countless lives
as she sat alone
 Feb 2016 Anniebell Lector
Creation gently whispers 'this is love'
and sometimes to break in on your deafness
creation 'shouts loud' loud enough for you to hear it.
She believes in happy things
Invisible beings with fairy wings
Fluttery butterflies make her dance
An endless game of happenstance
Eyes of wonder, transparent soul
The world is cruel but she doesn't know...

She greets me with smiles from ear to ear
To hold her heart I solemnly swear
Gentle touch soothes the soul
In her presence I turn to gold
She holds my restless heart at bay
As she executes her innocent ways...

Her plans get lost in the making
A pouty face when she's faking
Empty cups of invisible tea
Cartoon bandages when she bleeds
Shelves filled with eyes that stare
She loves her tattered teddy bear...

Crayon drawing of sunny skies
She draws me with big wide eyes
Read me a story, she hands me a book
It's past her bedtime but she gives me that look
I tuck her in and read her asleep
And pray my love she'll always keep...
Traveler Tim Jun 30, 2015
he kissed her eyelids
soft like pale butterfly wings
and she woke up
with a cold space beside her
the memory of those butterfly kisses
still fresh on her face.
I don't want to be the big banyan tree
majestically standing tall in the field
jealous men scratching it all day, I can see
stealing it's shadows and breaking the branches
still it offers home to all these lonely birds
in all this brutality, how tolerant it can be !

                         I am not worthy of all this empathy

I choose to be a small ****, instead
hiding in the beauty of so many like me
and making this barren land, bucolic green
I am happy with a butterfly, hugging me once a while
for after a short life, I will either satisfy a cow's appetite
or be stamped to death by the ignorant juvenile
                 Wishing­ for happiness, but being stealthy
                      *I am not worthy of all this empathy
 Mar 2015 Anniebell Lector
 Mar 2015 Anniebell Lector
Let's make a deal
that the smoke scented
taste of your tongue
will never leave mine.
They'll find me hanging upside-down.
Ankles bruised by the ropes
From which you strung me up for field dressing.
Lacerations where you’d cut my throat,
Bled me dry, spilt my guts,
And broke past my ribs, to uproot my heart.
Can they carbon date the remains of my reputation?
Trace the ****** back to your mouth?

Will they know the cause of death to be the
Malignant rumors you couldn’t help but spew?
Your false words: the final nail in my coffin.
Do you regret ever letting them past your lips?
Slowly, my reputation crippled by the aggressive
Cancer that was your embellished utterance.

And it didn’t bother you in the slightest.
You marveled at the sight of my struggle.
And amazing how these things seem to spread.
One caustic, contagious, breath from you was all it took.
Though the slanderous virus wouldn't make it 'til morning;
Addicts to their fix; gossips, crave your empty words.
Like *******, the rush is intense but brief.
Interest fleeting, they move on.
Off to the next peddler.

For all these inconveniences, I thank you.
Thank you for lifting the masks that curtained your distorted self.
How blind I must have been not to see it outright.
Another leech, feeding on slighted words.
And to think; all it costed you to buy in
Was me...
 Mar 2015 Anniebell Lector
I drew from your lips
a kiss
like a gun from the hip.
and we bled such mysterious blood.
Your body arched into a conduit
of divine magnetism.

And when I saw you,
my darling one,
maybe it was too holy for these eyes
and these hands, and this
crooked tongue.

I think
I was real gone then.
A phantom, something vague,
something obscured
by the wonder of many moments
deftly strung together by
the thin silk of enthrallment.

Or, maybe worse, concealed
by the magic show of happiness.

You were not the first angel I’d seen.
And this is not the final glass I’ll
raise in remembrance.
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