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Eudora May 2017
You
You* *are in every pulse of her heartbeat and the
*rhythm of the murmurs in between.
  May 2017 Eudora
ryn
careless fingers,
they will
always take.
they never
will learn that...
fragile hearts
don't just break.

so brittle they crack
under pressure.
then into
a million shards,

they
shatter.
Eudora May 2017
They trace down your cheeks...
during the loneliest of nights.
They gather between your collar bones...
through your battles and fights.

They brim in your eyes...
assuring you the glimmer of hope.
They drip off your chin...
*like a thread of droplets to help you cope.


They wet your shivering smile...
reminding you of your strength and humility.
They fall on your palms...
appreciating your sacrifices and sincerity.

They seep into your skin...
to fuel the undying love in your heart.
They feed your soul with gratitude
*until the time comes when you shall depart.
#selflesstears #purpose #life
  May 2017 Eudora
ryn
Spin a web...
a little tale...
with the
unwavering voice that
tells of limitless grandeur.

Weave the
finest threads of imagination,
laced with infinite magic...
into a spectacle...
of spellbinding tapestry.

Cast your palette,
unto canvas...
brush with the strokes of
your heart's shackled candour.

String your words
into phrases,
into sentences
that turn into beguiling jewels
that we...
only we...

see as poetry.
Eudora May 2017
The sunset bids goodbye as
the azure sky takes on a tint of pink and apricot,
fading into hues of indigo and violet.*
The birds soaring beneath the clouds of dusk...
embracing the last few moments of today,
welcoming...
*the evening's crepuscular charm.
  Mar 2017 Eudora
ryn
Heated...
Like the fevered blood coursing through veins

Malignant...
Like open sores upon the skin

Defeated...
Like the drums that faltered in the rain

Potent...
Like the potion quietly bunged within

Temporary...
Like the promise doomed never to be kept

Hasty...
Like the mouth which spoke too quick

Greedy...
Like the palms, too eager to accept

Dead...**
Like the heart that now refused to tick
  Mar 2017 Eudora
Gidgette
I was in the cemetery again, this noon
Dandelion graves and lost stones
Dwelling atop a hidden hill
Deep within the pines
Not my cemetery
Not ancient
I laid
Upon a certain grave
It had my name
Amanda
One of only two stones with
Still visible words
Unwashed by
Time
She was only 17, passing
Married, buried
With child
Baby
A long lost to time
Child bride
Of the
1800's
For her to be in that particular cemetery
She had to be a soldiers wife
Confederate, rebel
I mourned her
The stone residing next to hers
was worn by wind and time
A dandelion grave
~A
Cemeteries are a morbid habit of mine. The particular cemetary I speak of here, is called Boot Hill. A civil war cemetery. Amanda's grave was one of very few female graves I've found in war graveyards. Her stone said,"With her child." And indeed, as early as it is in this season, that cemetery was covered with dandelions.
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