Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Isabel Levy Apr 2020
Time is flying like a butterfly,
While my mind soars like a vulture
Broad, starving, and searching
A desert of what life was lies beneath me

Every creature, every semblance of what was
Has hidden away. Even the night owls
Are forced to scavenge close to home

Wind trembles under my wings
I command where I want to be taken but
Everything is empty

The watering hole is a mirage
The trees have forsaken their leaves
The carcasses that would have fed me
Have been picked over by rabbits and mice
Before the coyote or eagles
Could have even smelt it

And what is left for me?
I hope for a bone, gristle, maybe even fur
Something to put away the gnawing hunger
That echoes fervently inside my head

And yet
Even the starving wind has eaten away
The fur and crushed bones
Which the sun had also devoured into dust

Shall I land? Allow my feet to once again
Touch the sands that I've refused to acknowledge
And, somehow, truly begin to feel the fire
Of the sky beating down on me
As it has with every other creature...

Or shall I fly on?
Slowly, hopeful of the next scape
Being led by a careless butterfly
Which ***** it's wings as an infant walks
Only resting for food and drink

But... aren't I also as that?
A being that soars, not caring to see
What is below or around me
As my goal is not the frog
Not the eagle
Not even the wolf

My goal is me, tomorrow
As each flap of the butterfly's wings
Is valued at less than a drop of morning dew
The relentless need to push on
Is in symmetry between it and I
So, I must fly on.

Above the wasted desert
Beyond the wind of bones
Beside the sun that drinks us away
And behind the butterfly
Which never, once, thought of me
Cautiously, and realistically, optimistic
Isabel Levy Aug 2018
One day someone will be taking care of me
When I'm sick and when I'm hurt
Someday I'll come home to a person
Who washed and folded all my shirts
Maybe in the future he'll make dinner for me too
And know how I'm feeling even if what I say isn't true

I'll work all day and get home so tired and worn
And maybe he will do, and feel, the same
We could just lay on the ground and order a pizza
Eat half of it and pass out where we lay
Wake up at four in the morning, only seeing silhouettes in the night

And hold each others hands as we find our bed without our sight

I'd make him surprise meals, maybe way too soon
And discourage myself as he's out so late that day
He'd come home and I'd tell him what I'd created
Although now its cold/ soggy/ not the same, he'd still kiss me and say,
"Thank you, baby. I'm sorry I was late, did I make you cry?"
And I'd nod and look nonchalant... or at least I'd try.

When we're apart, I'll think of him all throughout my time
Thinking of future gifts and laughing too hard at his past puns
Maybe looking like a lovestruck idiot in public
But he would know, that's just how my mind runs
And seeing each other again, I'd make sure to feel his face too much
He'd let me, since he would love my touch

He'd watch me sleeping ugly, with drool and farts and noise
He'd probably record it to blackmail me later,
Threatening with laughter to show it to all his friends
But little would he know that I could do one greater:
Revealing the albums of candid photos and videos in my phone
And I wouldn't be able to help it, he would just be so cute-prone

We may argue over something silly, something stupid, and I'd refuse to see him at all
Looking away when he walks by and ignoring him when he talks to me
He'd be hurt, and he would tell me that, my icy heart would melt away
And I'd hug him so tight and apologize for being a meanie
He wouldn't say anything, what if he doesn't hug me back?
...what if he never again placed his hands on my back?

What if I ruin everything? If my personality is immature and strong
He'll have had enough of it and he'll gently tell me he's letting me go
I know I'll cry, asking if he still wants to keep the gifts I gave
And my heart will be trembling as I fear he may say no...
Because each moment was a whirlwind of him
I'm afraid I'll ruin my future before it begins...
I have the flu currently, this poem began as me really wishing someone was here to care for me.... then I cried. Lol
Isabel Levy Aug 2018
You've not broken a man
Not when he sighs or sheds a tear
Not when his heart is filled with fear
You've not broken him
When he cries in pain
Nor when he claims he is slain
You've broken a man
When his shoulders cave
When he has dropped to his knees
When he no longer rises
And refuses to see
Isabel Levy Aug 2018
He said he would solve my problems,
Claimed to harbor the cure,
But once I had him cornered,
I found his words were only a lure.
Isabel Levy Aug 2018
You know why the trees love the wind?
Same reason why the earth loves the sun.
To be caressed, to be warmed, to be surrounded...
There's almost no greater feeling within
Than to be so close to a loving one
As they look into your eyes, astounded
I like rhymie poems :)
Isabel Levy Aug 2018
If we aren't supposed to fear the dark
Why are there so many streetlights?
If we're supposed to make friends of enemies
Why are there always big fights?
If children are the minds of the future
Why do we treat them like they're dumb?
And if we're all supposed to focus on empthy
Why do we promote feeling numb?

You say what I think, but I do what you won't.
One may try to verbalize this in ways that don't
Always make the most sense, or seem like they're from sound mind
But doing the right thing is more than just kind.

What morals have you when you speak with both sides of your mouth?
One side says good, the other says bad, and you expect me to hear you out?
I watch what you do, giving to charity as you spit on kids,
I know this simple note won't have you rushing to quit.

Being mean and doing wrong becomes a way of life
With every cackle and sneer and grudge, you build up on strife.
Almost as if you're inhaling deep from your nicotine fix,
Preparing to exhale that cancerous smoke always does the trick.
Isabel Levy Aug 2018
Sometimes I feel incomplete, as if my two hands clasped aren't enough to hold,
As if my body heat needs to be supplemented somehow, or encouraged;
I don't feel enough pressure on my skin throughout the day, and though I'm not six years old,
I decide to touch everything I see, everyone, so we aren't all discouraged.

I only know my position of mind, any other I've barely grazed through,
Since I was born and raised with this head, my mind has developed it's own ways...
But I'll always glance over, when I'm not being beheld, to take a look at you,
And study your habits, expressions, even your name, until my focus is swayed.

And this is what I do with myself, how I fill up my time and my brain.
I daydream with my head down and refuse to see the sun,
The blinding light doesn't see me as an herb, but simply something to drain.
Burn my eyes with your excellence, your independence has won,

And I, laying face down in the soil, feel your burning influence upon my back.
Swelter my skin, I don't have to ask. Are you who I want to be?
An unstoppable force in someone's sky that can both comfort and attack?
Is that what I'll have? A sun of a man to hold? One who both loves and harms me?

However, it may be my own fault, as the harm is inevitable here,
Staying out without protecting myself from the ball of light in the sky.
The earth against my forehead is cool and rich, making my head clear,
It takes each whimper, each tear that falls, and absorbs every cry.

I bury my face into the dirt, squeezing my eyes shut so tight,
I taste the sediment, the clay, the plant remains, but I don't mind.
It feels just fine. Cool on my skin, dark and soft, it feels just right.
So much so that I forget about the sun that looms right behind.
Oy vey
Next page