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Forgetful dreams, trapped on the pillow of my bed— tiptoeing thoughts, almost like a ballerina having a good stretch. As an injured picture frame hauls away the canvas of a dream on a stretcher. Giving pretence for a pretender—and knowing whether the weather decides to jump over your head, is knowing when it has a spring in its step. But it never bends to tender hearts—it only offers them the work of love. A group of tenders; all their touches tender, all enlisted in affection’s labor force. And if it's a compulsory love, we'll love with force. Cos Love is a chin check sport—and you pay for it with the protruding part of a chin cheque. Control, and out-of-control—to the ones living so remote. But lose that island, and you lose control. And lose the answer to the power of influence— and you begin to question what control even means. Control is part of that… _this far,_ at least, but a life without risk— is the risk of never having lived. Because everything you love to do might just be the very last thing that finally does you in.
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Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 4:24 PM UTC
Tender Force
Forgetful dreams, trapped on the pillow of my bed— tiptoeing thoughts, almost like a ballerina having a good stretch. As an injured picture frame hauls away the canvas of a dream on a stretcher. Giving pretence for a pretender—and knowing whether the weather decides to jump over your head, is knowing when it has a spring in its step. But it never bends to tender hearts—it only offers them the work of love. A group of tenders; all their touches tender, all enlisted in affection’s labor force. And if it's a compulsory love, we'll love with force. Cos Love is a chin check sport—and you pay for it with the protruding part of a chin cheque. Control, and out-of-control—to the ones living so remote. But lose that island, and you lose control. And lose the answer to the power of influence— and you begin to question what control even means. Control is part of that… _this far,_ at least, but a life without risk— is the risk of never having lived. Because everything you love to do might just be the very last thing that finally does you in.
OddOdysseyPoet
Written by
27/M/Zimbabwe
Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 4:24 PM UTC
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