Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
  Feb 2020 Bethany
Satsih Verma
Your breath
a prayer in water, when
vision fails.

Life will treat you
in beauty, when you were
ready to meet future.

Like touching god's
feet, to smear the lunar's
dust on fore heat.

The journey never
ends. Bright stars beckon to
you, but you will not
find Miranda.

The fever was mystical.
In delirium you will recite
a poem.
  Feb 2020 Bethany
Luke
And for a second
When I’m next to your breath
There is almost light
Bethany Feb 2020
like moths droning towards the saffron yellow light, i am replenished by delicate heat.
your hands hold me with the fierceness of the flame burning inside. it glows violently but softens with each flicker.
Bethany Feb 2020
We begin at autumn; the rust gold leaves shrivel to ash, the air is more crisp, but nothing feels the same. A woman must endure the early darkness, and the stale stench of decaying landscapes.

The winter abruptly approaches, the air is drained from its once praised scent. Now we must inhale the thick frost. The beauty of shimmering snow blinds us from remembering the suffocated life buried underneath; she claws her way out through the ice, to be rekindled by the Sun’s warmth.

After these months of dreaded frigidity, the air begins to return with its earthly perfume. The snow has vanished, leaving the ground on the brink between life and death, but she chooses to grow amongst the leaves.

Summer brings in new, sensual heat; insects linger throughout the scorching air. The Garden of Eden replenished by her hands, the fruit of her labor often consumed before she can savor her work. But, we owe it to her, and we must worship her.
  Feb 2020 Bethany
Karissa Willoughby
You died that day.
No, your heart beat on--
But you died that day.
I watched your soul break
And I broke too.
I don't fear the death of me,
I fear the death of you.
Bethany Feb 2020
some days taste like sunlight, my tongue burns but hungers for more.
there’s a pit inside, howling for further feeding at ungodly hours.

now the sun sets early.
i’m starved for months: the brutal nature of dark solitude.
brittle bones are hollowed from the piercing air.
my body begins to devour itself, consuming muscle and matter.

this body wears away,
now forming something else.

i don’t taste the same.

— The End —