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Claudia Tara Feb 2018
You would not be the first
to slip quietly out of my life
faintest of footsteps wilting
gently into the first notes of dawn's overture.

And what rabbit are you chasing
down this hole you have found by the willow?
do you not fear its tears
will follow you down?

I mourn many mornings
no lyrical musings left in me
over the hands that slipped from mine
into the mist, unnoticed.

I have reached, and shouted
and screamed my throat raw
but I remain unanswered
before all these closed doors

Never to return to me, never to find
my searching hand in the dark
holding hope this tender light
it's flickering fading in your shadow

How often will I break my heart for you,
fair spirits too turbid for this world?
How often will I chase you into the maze,
trying to guide you as we lose ourselves complete?

And if I am left alone, to face the same temptation,
gently calling me home,
Whose ears are craning for petals falling
at the end of the very same song?
Claudia Tara Feb 2018
I will not make amends
      for the sake of neatly tied ends.
What belies the lie we accepted,
        what steal sustains the veil we perfected?
I will not make amends,
         for it is broken.

I am outrage incarnate in
      the sorrow laced across my skin
Dripping down my back the sin, created
      by all I once believed to be fated
I will not make amends.

I am indifference in flesh,
     passivity in my blood enmeshed-
there's no Seymour for to feed you,
      no passage for to peer through
I will not make amends.

I am their voices solid made-
   the cries, the lies, the debt repaid
You do but beg- you'll beg no more!
    A change unto the very core,
I will not make amends!

the chain is broken.
Inspired by Shakespear's A mid Summer Night's Dream, fragments of Little Shop of Horrors, and intense anger on behalf of those who suffer.
Claudia Tara Feb 2018
And if the sky never stops falling,
and the ground does not level stay?

what then?

If the seas keep rising, and
the winds keep blowing storms our way?

what then?

If the waves keep crashing
and the rain keeps lashing
and the lighting is flashing...
what then?

He               looks               me                in               the             eyes

If the sky keeps falling, we'll keep falling in love
and with no level ground, we'll float to heaven above.
If the seas keep rising we will sail away
on the very same wind blowing storms our way
We will crash with the waves, we will dance in the rain
we'll let it in our souls to wash away the pain
and maybe you're the lightning, because I see you bursting bright
I know that it is dark, but I'll be your moon tonight.

Like wind beneath my tattered wings
He says the sweetest things.
Claudia Tara Jul 2016
Winter takes my breath away,
air thin like
watery soup
like ragged strips of cloth
that rattle through my lungs

This sharp air lacks substance.

Our air is a heavy broth
that weighs on you
in every season.
Thick and life-giving
it fills you with warmth.

It is breathing rain and sunshine combined.

It feeds the all consuming green
that wraps itself around you
and reflects off unreal blue
in the water that cools you-
and beneath the surface, colour explodes.

All the life and laughter is in that air.

It tastes like rain and seashells,
like pineapple juice and coloured print
like frangipani and sarongs and sun
It is the echo of vibrance,
the missing peace
of my past.
Claudia Tara Jul 2016
Your reflection
borrows your life
has none of its own.

This innocent glass,
so easily shattered-
for looking alone!

A mirror alone
is still and empty
has no purpose.

Emptiness feels
the same as anguish,
fill the void.

Tears fill
a blank page best;
my spring rain.
Claudia Tara Jul 2016
The colour of contemporary tears is
mascara on white pillow
traces of truth where the
comes off, because pain is not waterproof.
Aloof, the lines of slick black
that bat the words far
we stay on the edge of
our taught heartstrings held
as we learn not to leak
before other eyes, so instead we
our pain on white in quiet darkness.
Claudia Tara Aug 2015
Airplanes like comets
drawing cloud-lines in the sky,
rips in reality beyond which other worlds lie.
Worlds bathed in fire, because orange shines through.
If reality really ripped, what would we do?
My mind begins to spiral, up but so low
till all that's left is the nothingness I know,
and suddenly you stand at the edge of the end,
a universe of silence  in which we pretend
to have a purpose, that there is truth, that we are real.
But when you perceive there's nothing, there's nothing to feel.
An accidental planet trying to fill the space
but in this universe of silence, we simply have no place
when I release my fantasies, I lose it all
the ground falls away, and equally I fall.
So I grasp at small things...
like man-made comets with metal wings
ripping reality, passing by
painting purpose on an empty sky.
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