Eleni Demiris

Eleni Demiris Jun 2014

Writing.....much like two lovers
so succumbed by each others' depth
that they forget all that surrounds them.
Writing is a passion,
a way of life that is filtered
through the thoughts of the undecided reader.
poets unknowingly spill words of genius
onto an absorbent sheet of permanence.
reading it over,
admiring each word
like a
piece
of
art,
a painting colored by details that are unrecognizable to the artist.
Not stolen,
not original,
not real to its maker.
As if to have been in a daze whilst cooking up this newly inspired recipe. Blindly painting college ruled lines
with words concocted in a high.
A high off of thoughts
whetted by the thoughts of words.
a constant cycle of
emotions,
words,
poetry....
emotions,
words,
poetry.
writing is inspiring,
enlightening and beautiful.
If only everything could write.
if only everything were written.

Eleni Demiris May 2014

You won't be reading this

I think I said my last goodbye to you.
Like an ember struggling to burn brighter,
this story is coming to a close.
The writer’s hand is weary,
or maybe, he is drawing a blank.
Like I did when I saw you.
When I hugged you.
Your wordless eyes staring into mine
giving me no sign of what was playing behind them.
Was I just a breeze among the many fall days?
Was I just a moment passed and left for then?
You were supposed to be.
Supposed to be gone and meaningless,
but you came back to shake my sleep.
Back to haunt and distort my desires,
and now I want you.
I want the lips I once kissed and took for granted.
I want your words that once made my naïve eyes roll.
I want your softness,
and your love.
You wanting me.
All of it.
All that I do not have,
all that has passed through my hands,
and through my soul.

The thought of you lingers
like the last brown leaf on a mid winter’s branch.
It clings like static to my hair.
I cant escape it.
I cant escape you.
You are freedom
    and passion
        and lust
            and spontaneity
A bird with no due north.
Just soaring above us, who know nothing.
Who thought we knew everything.
I thought I knew everything.
You are a phoenix.
Born from the ashes in my mind.
A phoenix that had laid dormant,
with seemingly no hope to rise.
But you rose with an everlasting fury,
blowing the embers that were floating away
to create a fire within me.
A fire I wish to put out,
but only you can tame.
Please, my love
I do not wish to burn

Eleni Demiris May 2014

Star Dust

And she ran as fast as she could
Down the street
Lit by the tall, towering trees of light
As the crisp fall breeze whispered across her cheeks
She had to hide it
For what was in her hands
Was not a possession of her own
It twinkles and rekindles itself in her palms
The brightest burning star in the universe is hers to keep
It belongs to no one
Now that she has it in her damp, trembling, palms.
“This is my future”
She hummed into the night air
As the brothers of her hidden treasure
Continued to lead the way for her.
“This is my future,”
She sang as her pace quickened
And stardust flew from her hands
Like the softest sand floating
As if in slow motion
To another destination.
It lit up the trail she left behind
Concealing her past with a brighter future.
Today was the day she learned how to fly!
She finally untethered her wings
And reached for the moon;
And it happened,
Just like they always said it would,
Despite her fears
And mistrust in her passions,
Despite everyone telling her “no”
And suffocating her aspirations with their words,
Despite all of it
She was able to land amongst the stars.
And she’s finally doing it.
She’s finally living
The way it was meant to be.
By feeling It all.

— The End —