My friend failed the appointment
and I had this man beside me
with untimely heavy woolen
peering into the condensed haze
of that October evening.

Being alone is scary,
the hoarse voice melted the silence
and being alive sometimes scarier
than not being
,

he paused as if
the words had drained him

when you hope it the most
and none turns up
to feel and fill you
.

The fog had almost devoured the halogen
leaving me only with the voice.

It's uneasy, I spoke at last,
isn't it weird to be talking
without being seen
?

Not in the least,
his laughter rattled the slumberous air
the world long turned away its face
from the face beside you
.

In raspberry rain
and in mulberry midnight,
and in strawberry sunset.
I sit, soft as a marshmallow,
as I admire the cherry clouds,
fantasising the fruits of life

I mount myself on mint mountains,
as I stare up at the sugarcoated stars
as the strawberry sunset turns into
a luscious, liquorice limbo,
where whole thoughts squirt out.

Never, never to hurt anyone again.

A poem about dealing and depression and how it's always temporaruy
  Oct 22 Twilight Zone
ryn

crescent in the sky be my hammock

I watch with shut eyes
the twinkle trail of fairy lights

let my past be laid and lined in chalk

to usher the magic of following nights

  Oct 20 Twilight Zone
Liz Balise

Odd color
of trifling light
Flitting petal
blue-purple-gray
emerged from asphalt's
heated slumber
to lead some airy way--

The road forgot

Sometimes there is a moment that deserves forever....

The only thing brighter than hope
is loss
it chews into the goldsmith
that makes the soul
and gnaws me into colors
each part of me flying down
into the wilderness I am fluttering
as the farmer ploughs me into earth
where my intensity can rest.

In full dress once
I left an economy of boughs,
the candle isn't lit, a wick without its crown
I leave the world schooled in lean and lithe, a yogi,
I am here to study my own neglect.
The rest of the world, lion bodied,
glances at my century of rough.

But I robed the ground with my convictions
I couldn’t keep them
seasons burst out of me
even if I wanted to hoard my greedy treasures for myself
I couldn't
thus robbed of my enfranchisement
I mutter in time to the wind
sorrow gave me this reason-flayed second purpose

Which is to feed others, my body now a spilled nut
I am birded by the sowing belly of earth
my bells are rained and pinched
by this tapering
I am being shrunk to get through the door to death
only snow will enter in the end
when I am covered white and immaculate
together we give up color for the season of bones.

©marywinslow2016 all right reserved. This is a re-post of one of my favorites. It is also in the collection "Dea Tacita" that I published with Jeff Stier. This was published in Avocet online, fall 2016

I reside in the walls of blue
Whenever I think of you
The tides and time drops
Endless , never stops
Wearing into the creases of my brain
The rails run on wheels like train
Penetrating the wholes of eye
I swear , I kick and lie
Saying I don't miss you .

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