Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Eriko Feb 2016
Made of gold
that levitating throne
swelling hands and chipped nails
that's what took me to construct it
scraped knees and sore stomach
I built a throne made of gold
watch me ascend it
race, wayfaring cry
before someone sits in it
that hole I hid myself in
has flooded with remorse
I will never go back
so I'll find another home
with a better view
and that throne of gold?
who needs it
Build myself a treehouse
Instill my authentic self
Eriko Feb 2016
don't you know,
don't you know that
sometimes my hands shake
as I am holding my phone
or I pound the keyboard
fingers dripping of turmoil,

don't you know
Eriko Feb 2016
I simply refuse to become*
another brick wall
decorate me with graffiti
there are weeds blooming at my feet
I am covered in ivy
but flowers always illuminate
under the sun
and a welcoming lamppost
accompanies me when dark
I sing with the cats
and howl with the dogs
if we are all brick walls
please, adorn me
*please, personify me
if you talk to me, I am very much NOT like a brick wall
haha
Eriko Feb 2016
I could see the hurt penetrate in those green eyes
as I stood with my neck craned to the sky
my eyes were still swimming
from the pain you inflicted
but I could see shock,
that unsettling fear
when you realized
I also have a door
and can walk away
but can't you see
I have always seen
that door on your
side
Eriko Feb 2016
the pure joy watching
slowly, painfully staring
at a painting breathe to life
watching every stroke
every layered undertone
to speak with
a thousand syllables
the frothy white seas,
I can almost taste
the salt in the breeze,
the cloudy heavy sky
I can almost feel
the chill of shoreline ice
it's almost like
reading book
or writing  poem,
using that jewel
of imagination
to fuel
my own redemption
Eriko Feb 2016
I hug this mug of tea
this sweet, black cherry tea
warmth seep through the porcelain
a wonderful sensation blooming
on my tongue

yet, that old fellow over there
with cowered eyes flecked with grey
a long peppered beard and hair so thick
he had a crane which endured all the sick
and came to poke his gnarled  finger
at my cup of tea

dear, he said oh dear
and I tilted my head
not knowing what to be said
do you see what you have done to yourself?

I glance down down, at my fingers wrapped
around the cup of tea
the tea was not steaming, nor warmth presented
my fingers were merely frozen
and the sweetness was long forgotten

the pooling black cherry
I saw my face reflected
and I didn't recognize
the eyes blinking anymore

who gave you that tea?
the old wise man whispered
that tea was a gift to me
I whispered even quieter still
the tea have grown cold long ago
and you have been here huddled all alone
he haven't bothered an offer of hospitality
he left you to grow cold and still

and I realized, my hands shattered the porcelain
the tea dripped in a sludge
I kicked at the broken pieces
and began to spark a flame

and now why the bright orange flame?
the old man said and sat in the grass
I am kindling my own
I said with a fiery puff of breath
he chuckled and nodded
you have grown wiser
*with a rare undertone
starting to realize that some people who are not what I thought to be.
also striving to be more independent
Next page