You come at me at night, invading my mind as I sleep,
Like the riptides of the ocean. You drag me down into
the Netherworld of the sea,
You waiting there, knife in hand plunging in my helpless
body,Again and Again, The Agony of pain in my breast
as you slash your way through my mind. my blood mingling
with the saltwater...

The God of the sea, releasing my battered and bruised Soul
to the surface, Panic leaving me unable to swim paralell to
the shore of this nightmare, can't swim out of your riptide.

My mind Screaming, Screaming me awake, Tears running
down my face, tasting salt on my tongue, Is it from the sea?
The taste so real, Is this Nightmare really over? will it ever
Really be over?

I am enthralled with the idea
  of gnawing on thoughts
    complicated enough to transform into thought provoking sentences.

I find comfort in the idea
  that i have been given a chance to care after
    the body in which i have inhabited.

I find my thirsty heart, quenched
  as liquid drills its way through the passages of my
    mouth, throat and body.

I am enthralled with the idea that
  i have been given the opportunity to
   create, own, and explore the depths of my existence.

writing of something attached to you is a simple thing;
i could tell a story all about my arms and how they are the sweetest things-
picking me up, stopping me from falling and helping me feed myself
sometimes i even lay my head on them and i fall asleep
it's simple because it's like a home
and six months ago you became a part of that home
a part of this human being with arms i sleep on and legs figured out i could open door handles with;
a whole entire section of me that keeps safety on the ceiling and happiness in all the cobwebs
a home within a home
experiencing love and wanting it became two different things quickly
i never knew love was so gently wrapped up between
"hey andy i hate you" and "hey kate go **** yourself"
but there it was
i guess it does come in all shapes and sizes

six months is a long time
to figure out where you can lay on another persons arm
and that you like the way they curl their feet while sitting;
that sometimes you slur your words and don't say the last parts of them
and other times you even decipher my backwards language that only you can seem to understand-
you aren't just my home

you are my hope

writing about love and arms and sleeping next to someone you love
comes too easy even when you're supposed to be doing schoolwork
or simply showering but what a lonely party that would be
i want love raining down on me instead
and when you came around it was always pouring
but i wouldn't call this a storm
more of a "april showers brings may flowers" thing
because you make tiny flowers grow and the birds sing i swear

i know some of this may be a bit backwards but i know you'll understand

you always do

What If I said that you're my universe?
That even though you don't know me,
The thought of you ignites solar flares in my mind.
What If I told you you're my universe?
That even though you've never met me,
Every dream I have of you, volcanoes erupt in my soul,
What if I showed you my universe?
Where every particle of my being revolves around you.
Where the though of losing you proves cataclysmic
Though I, never had you to begin with.
What if I asked you to build a new constellation with me?
Let your name be stained across starry skies,
So I can, sleep through the day
And stay up late each night just to look at you.
My universe,
Mercy me please.
I am begging on my knees.

© Deneka Thomas . All rights reserved

Why am I shivering? I can't be cold
My issues are so manifold
Why am I sweating? I don't feel hot
A losing mental battle, so very hard fought

A poet is a great friend..
Cause' he understands emotions..

I live through my poetry and my poetry lives through me..