Ha! You're probably here because you thought I would right a poem about you. Baby, You weren't a worthy enough investment for me to honor you as a muse .
If today was my last to experience the torments of this life I wouldn’t fret. This inevitable sadness that I’ve tried with all of me to resist has cloaked my being in fabrics too heavy for me to manage with bare bone.
My soul weighed with the garment as I felt my existence bleed as of flesh when kissed passionately with silver blades.
I know naught about the cause of this pain but I’ve accepted my role as her prey long ago. Back when time meant enough to me to find the strength to suffice a nightmare, that is, a life not worth living.
I dwell in the solitude of moons grace and mask my sorrow with a joyous façade at dawn.
My resilience is routine, a skit that although rehearsed infinite times still hasn’t been perfected.
It seems as though death has become fond of me. Deeming me her next victim I felt her racing through me like cancer.
A disconnect some would perceive as brutal I found solace. Swaddled what was left of my soul in her blanketed truth.
A sweet submission to the one thing I always knew about life...
Night skies still murmur your name. Whilst wondering why this longing has since surpassed desperate, I sat-
Curled up, knees to chest
Clenching my flesh in hopes to hold on to my last ounce of existence.
I felt naught but daydreams of nightmares haunting me, relentlessly.
Preying on my thirst for passion
Destroying my notion of love-
Tainting my eternity.
-danielle A. Watson
she sat curled up at the head of my bed.
Pencil protruding from her left ear, as high lighters met torn out notebook paper at the surface of my comforter.
I layed to the left of her.
Seemingly, attentively reading the last few chapters of The Lost Symbol.
Feeling myself drift from the pages, I no longer gave a **** about Dan Brown.
I missed her.
I have not seen or felt her in weeks.
I wish I can blame that on professor New and her desire for an A in his class but I can’t.
“baby you hungry?. I can order China man if you like”
“no, I ate before you got home”
Never lifting her eyes from the pages.
I continued with attempts to reconnect with Dan Brown, but It was useless.
As if a book couldn’t keep my attention unless it was loaded with Pictures and pastel colors.
My eyes began to roam around the room noticing
The unfinished Amber walls from months ago.
Our first home project
She asked if i would paint them amber.
She once loved the sight of it flourishing throughout the skies at dawn.
About two months ago was the last time she yearned for that mental picture...
-Danielle a. watson
I came to the Relazation,
I don't give a ****.
Only when I'm
high as ******* some
Man made ether- Now, etherized
it's easier to comprehend the demensions that led to my mental demise.
Yet and still.
I don't give a ****.
No need for the clenching of hearts or
worry some eyes-
This is a different "Numb".
Confusing your senses to where you
See beauty in all belonging to God
An feel only with your heart-
I'm riding on cloud 9 -
Surfacing on a pen that's barely scratching
The surface of my potency.
My being is being caressed by night fall,
Stillness finds space to
fit and slip down shoulders
once burdened with all
but a dream.
Reality never touched me here
So it's easy to imitate a crescent
for my lips main wear.
Gracing cheekbones once hidden
Now amplified by rose colored bliss.
I wish I could stay here -
Live within my imagination
Because in this realm-
Creativity added to a heart of gold
Not affiliated with currency
I can't stay trapped in this... dream-
Because like that 14 year old school boy
My imagination too,
has a curfew.
Only is at 8 a.m.
When the alarm sounds for me to mask my desires
In a blue collar-
To work the "grave yard shift"-
For a dreamer.
I guess my stress will greet your relief again at 5.
Or if I can't wait to embrace that comforted race-
I may have to show face on my next lunch break.
- Danielle . A. Watson
Still I wonder if i'm the mystery
within her meter.
Whether or not she missed me enough
to recreate my existence
using her stanza.
I felt her last night-
Essence spilled through my pen
filling my journal
Art emanates we,
Art emanates Life so
WE lived last night.
Under starlit skies and winters breeze.
Naught has changed, Nor will it ever.
...Master Mistress of My Universe.
I dreamt of nights where only solace exists.
Filling lungs upon inhale-
Only hints of mahogany incense.
The nights where, darkness crept low enough for me to kiss the cheeks of crescent moons,
Trace galaxies with my index;
feel smiles from
She watches me-
Watch waves clash relentlessly
Against mountains of limitless heights.
I flew within autumns wind;
Quenched my thirst with natures nectar.
Danced to heavens harps and
Defined passion through the soul of Venus.
Only amplifying loves intensity
Now, earth shattering.
Submerging myself within her waterfalls of purity
Baptizing my mental to be freed from insecurities -
I emerged, no longer mortal.
Owls eyes replaced mine therefore
Dawn no longer intrigued me.
Embracing the silence of this night
I've found tranquility in a dream.
Found life within the depths
Of days transition.
We'll take that walk.
When your sun drifts from our view
And my moon gets prepared to take her place
In the dawn of night-
Through the amber settings of 6pm
And remain in that mist until our souls meet again
In the dew swept calm or morning.
— The End —