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Apr 2018 · 343
fractured
Genevieve Wakutz Apr 2018
starlight bathes
the valley between us
a web of memories
like splintered glass
spiral and soften
into innocent silk
releasing deep anchors
until skin disappears
like a shadow
under the moon
Apr 2018 · 298
Blind
Genevieve Wakutz Apr 2018
wisps of wonder
from me to you
bodies melting
like candle wax
under the stars
curiosity pierces
the heavy night
shot from cupid's bow
yet arrows dissolve
in the liquid air
unanswered
Oct 2016 · 308
Elements
Genevieve Wakutz Oct 2016
plant my feet firmly in your soil
quench my thirst with your rain
warm my body under your gaze
carry my seeds in your wind
The elements of life
May 2016 · 370
autumn paint
Genevieve Wakutz May 2016
leaves
splashed
with colour
dripping
peach
lemon
lime
from one leaf
to another
bark burnt
from the sun
May 2016 · 308
Unnoticed
Genevieve Wakutz May 2016
the
squirrel
with
the
white
tipped
tail
Oct 2015 · 292
Ruin
Genevieve Wakutz Oct 2015
It will be a cold day,
rough skin,
pale lips.
You will hear Her cry,
stubbed fingers,
sore hips.
It will always replay,
torn shirt,
broken skin.
And She will lie,
dark eyes,
lowered chin.
Sep 2015 · 305
Lucidity
Genevieve Wakutz Sep 2015
her pink toes curled
and her feet creased
into a thousand dimples
her soft mouth stretched
into a silent yawn
as dusk broke
May 2015 · 423
Slowly
Genevieve Wakutz May 2015
let the fire lick your veins
it's not like you'll need them
let the smoke carrel in your lungs
it's not like you'll need them

let the days fade away
it's not like you'll use them
let the dishes pile up
it's not like you'll use them

keep your eyes glued to the TV
it's not like they need you
keep your head in the clouds
it's not like they need you

keep your stories to yourself
it's not like they need you
keep your love to yourself
it's not like they need you

let your children grow old
it's not like you'll need them
let your family move away
it's not like you'll need them
Mar 2015 · 296
Tension (10w)
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2015
My insides boil
Under the heat
Of your heavy gaze
Feb 2015 · 924
Ambition
Genevieve Wakutz Feb 2015
green is my favourite colour
but I more often speak of gold
for it runs through my veins
a feeling that cannot be controlled

light overcomes any darkness
when I chance the trade of new
though sadness surely follows
for I lack revenue

children create vivid dreams
in which a certain wealth is foretold
we imagine greatness will arrive
if we trade effort for gold

we plan to surpass our fathers
while obstacles get in the way
because the possibilities are endless
until our screens fade to grey

you see green was my favourite colour
but I more often spoke of gold
for it ran in my veins
and was left uncontrolled
Jan 2015 · 392
To Nothing
Genevieve Wakutz Jan 2015
you're broken glass and shattered dreams but nothing in between
you've got everything yet nothing, you're tearing at the seams
you're someone's beloved and a shining star but you've given it all away
you've got nothing left inside your heart and soon you'll fade away
Jan 2015 · 528
Chaser
Genevieve Wakutz Jan 2015
Drunk on the image of his silhouette
I believed I wouldn't fall further
But I sunk slow
Consuming his body language
I warmed to his touch on my skin
But I wanted more

Drunk on diamonds and wine
I believed I couldn't fall further
But I drowned in my obsession
Drinking in his body languid
Craving his touch on my skin
I wanted more
Aug 2014 · 459
Burning Waters
Genevieve Wakutz Aug 2014
Tinder sparked unto fire as born was desire
You and I walked on water our flames growing hotter
Clashing the elements despite their relevance--
Unbeknownst of the impending tempests

Through thick we thrive, through thin we survive
Wicked winds warp our bond, but we carry on
The laughter is bright, the chaos is night
But our thunderous storms always settle

Once more we gracefully glide along the ocean’s seamless tide
And the water begins churning at the lick of fire burning
A tempest may brew-- shedding feelings anew
Yet our love will conquer every storm
Jul 2014 · 286
Done
Genevieve Wakutz Jul 2014
I don't choose the rain that falls,
the earth that shakes,
my heart that calls.

I can't choose your place in my heart,
your voice in my head,
or where to start.

I don't choose who I am 'round you,
the words I say,
or the things I do.

I can't choose the fights to end,
the emotions I feel,
which heart to mend.
Jul 2014 · 923
Stars and Scars
Genevieve Wakutz Jul 2014
It's liquid midnight bottled in blue,
iridescent sparkles shining through.
It's thick twisting syrup in the sky
layers of secrets underneath lie.

It's hopes and fears battered and bruised,
mystery and madness interfused.
It's between planes-- beautiful and ethereal,
scars of kings taste as imperial.

It's honey dripping from an imaginary comb,
sweet sadness echoing through a suspicious tome.
It's a hot mess of sprinting thoughts,
pain and excitement in empty blots.

It's both extremities in duality,
a crippled fantasy bathed in reality.
May 2014 · 424
Unconscious Witness
Genevieve Wakutz May 2014
Four white walls,
an endless stream of beeps.
I am alive yet not alive,
here but not here.

Crash.
My mind spins in spirals
as I tumble through a cyclone.
A mix of emotions cross the blasting air, blurs of various colours whip all around, a force begins itching at my skull, scratching my nerves and veins, pulling and ripping my limbs until blackness consumes me, Crash.

The memories kick through my broken brain
like torn puzzle pieces that will never fit.
I am a jagged scar that will never heal--
marred by one accident.
Crash.

Four white walls,
an endless stream of beeps.
I am alive, yet not alive,
here, but not here.
---
The second paragraph should be read in building momentum, and return to slow pace after the second "crash".
Apr 2014 · 442
Canvas
Genevieve Wakutz Apr 2014
intricate arcs scrape and swerve
through the otherwise barren plain
leaving behind a trail of inky tar
to stain the white
Apr 2014 · 436
Chorus
Genevieve Wakutz Apr 2014
Clever sticky earworm
Tricky mess stuck in my head
Like crazy glue and torn fragments
Never complete but always repeating

Clever sticky earworm
Tricky mess stuck in my head
Get out get out get out
Always repeating

Clever sticky earworm
Mar 2014 · 614
Sire
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
Their songs drip with sappy love,
slowly like a blossoming rose.
And as the petals unravel,
thick, sweet syrup flows.
Mar 2014 · 560
Concealed
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
Shed your outer layer
Unravel your guise
Take off your mask
Let me see inside

You are a question mark
Your body a false pretense
You answer with questions
You attack with defence

Eyes are windows of the soul
But yours mirror mystery
Just give me something
I'm not asking for your history

Please let me in
I will be there for you
Let me show you warmth
I will always come through

Keep your mask
And keep your guise
But turn those mirrors to windows
And let me inside
Mar 2014 · 540
Nerves
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
An earthquake trembles through me,
my hands shake as I imagine breaking down.
Sun is burning down on me,
my face breaking out in sweat.

The quake tumbles through my stomach,
until I feel sick and queasy.
An itch ventures across my body,
my shaky hands scratching everywhere.

A vicious wind knocks away my breath,
I try to gulp down the thick air.
My heart throbs in my chest,
like sore stubbed toe.

He says my name and extends his large hand,
I peer up under the shade of my bangs
like a scared child hiding from a giant.
It is time and I am still frightened.

We make our way into the back and he slams the door.
The room is filled with ****** spikes and skulls,
His skin turns red and black horns raise from his forehead.
He questions me then maniacally laughs at my answer.

That's the worst that could happen right?
"Are you ready for your interview?" the man asks patiently.
I smile big and fake some confidence,
"Of course!"
More like a story then a poem... oh well. :)
Mar 2014 · 2.4k
Expectations
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
I am challenged.

I deny it.
I consider it.
I face it.
I conquer it.

It was easier than I expected.
Don't avoid things because they seem too challenging. You could be missing out.
Mar 2014 · 255
Not Your Turn (words)
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
I wanted to walk and never stop,
though the wind blew angrily at my hair,
and I could see my ragged breath in front of me.
I'm trying to believe in help because times are rough,
I imagine us kiss and you holding me close.
It wasn't your turn to die.

The water turned red and rain washed you away,
I curled up in my empty bed-- not a friend in the world.
Your touch still lingered so how could you be gone?
I wish the man that came to my door that day was you,
telling me that another man was dead, but you were safe.
Yes that's the truth.
It wasn't your turn to die.
Used two lines of words from the words page (wanted walk hair breath trying believe help times kiss close water red rain bed friend touch came dead truth turn die).
Mar 2014 · 456
You
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
You
Your eyes are pools
Of dripping desire.

Your mouth is a cave
Of echoing pleasure.

Your arms are life rafts
Of floating comfort.

In this life raft, in these pools, in this cave,
I will stay, with you.
Mar 2014 · 308
Alone (10w)
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
His name now
tastes like poison
on my tender tongue.
Mar 2014 · 640
His Words
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
It’s not in a voice,
It’s not in a face,
But in the words.

The words he says,
The words he writes,
Change everything.

Changing how you view yourself,
Changing how you see the world.
The words that make you feel loved.

His words carry the oxygen to your heart,
His words keep you bound to the earth.
Words that strengthen your weaknesses.

Strengthening the love that built your heart,
Strengthening the bones that built your body.
For the day his words lack inspiration.

For the day when his voice doesn’t echo,
For the day when his face doesn’t glow.
Because he’s no longer your home.
Mar 2014 · 541
Fire (Diamanté)
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
Fire
Golden, fierce
consuming, torching, smoldering,
Electric, sparks, furnace heat, smoke,
collapse, dying, surrender,
crispy, broken
Ember
Mar 2014 · 908
War (Haiku)
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
Hearts of warriors
guide courageous souls to fight
nation's saving grace
Mar 2014 · 2.0k
Black Rose (Couplet)
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
a cold wind freezes my darkening skin
it will be soon now, as I wear thin.
my leaves and thorns have chipped away,
it won’t be long before my stem gives way.
snow and frost cluster along my petals,
my stem is frozen where the snow settles.
a harsh winter breeze slices through the air,
stripping my beloved petals, no more can I bear.
Mar 2014 · 1.4k
Cloud Dance
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
Are they horses racing upon an infinite horizon,
Gods and goddesses thrusting lightning bolts towards one another,
Fishes jumping up high from a misty embrace,
Or just white and grey clouds rumbling through the evening sky?

Sunlight trails along the fluffy white giants, outlining the puffs in a golden mist.
Darker cloud fronts drifting away, sulking down into the shadows,
Silhouettes of distant hawks soar against the shades of blue that paint the sky.
The sun illuminates low hanging thinner clouds with a faint pink glow.

The fiery sun goddess bows nearly beneath the cloudy horizon,
Darkening the sky and setting the pink clouds dancing with the colour of flames.
Soon the blues are overwhelmed with darkness and the clouds fade with the sun.
Mar 2014 · 781
Just A Puppet
Genevieve Wakutz Mar 2014
I live in a dark corrupt world
hiding from the ones I love.
I hear their shouts as they search for me
but even I don’t know where I am.
Anger burns from their eyes
though confused by my actions.
They tell me I can’t keep living like this
and I don’t want to.

I feel as though I’m wrapped
in heavy chains bolted to the floor—
free will now a lost concept.
Why can’t I break free with these pliers?
My fingers strain to fold around their handles,
struggle to force them apart.
I drive them toward the metal with all my might.

But my fingers let go and they drop to the floor—
all optimism shattered.

I have lost all control,
a puppet struggling to create my own actions.
A knife is attached to my hand,
and with my final breath
I plunge the sharp blade into my abdomen.
My body falls numbly to the ground,
No longer can strings dictate my decisions.
I am free.

— The End —