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Ophélie S Dec 2018
it is what it is,
i say
but it may change,
you reply and -
your eyes glisten like
the sun above a dark
a tiny boat rocking toward distant horizons.

this is the day when
the cage is torn open and
all the pet birds are thrown outside;
we won't ever be able to
meet eyes the same way when tomorow comes.
Ophélie S Sep 2018

not bad,
i commented to myself as i watched you do your thing
for the first time ever ;
not bad was my way to say
still is today
i have standards, you see and —
they were met when i
heard you say,
"that's only half what
i can do."

let's get this straight:
i was the best at what i do until
you came around ;
it's not like i'm mad though —
quite the opposite 
in fact.


here's something else:
i have always liked the way your eyes
shot daggers
even when you were smiling ;
a death stare, they named it and, you know,
i won't call them wrong —
i'm rather fluent with the concepts of
and staring myself, after all.

do you remember?
when we spoke to each other —
it was always a sparring of
rather than words.


a fact:
you have been called cold
more often than
you have been called pleasant ;
i know  —
it's not like you'd disagree
not like you'd be stupid enough to
deny ;
cold is a comfortable shadow
to hide in,
something people like us
wear as a coat or
a scarf
from july to june.

there's this saying that the addition of
two negative objects
turns them a positive
result ;
i'm not much of a scholar so, honey,
what's on your mind?


i get it now,
if i'm propellers
you are wings —
rather than a mirror, we're
distorted reflects
a thing evolution knows
a great deal about ;
this yearning is the aspect of you
i'd wish to keep
bottled up ;
"what for?" you'd ask.

yearning is not a thing
i'm a stranger to ;
i've yearned for many things including
and you —
i've been struggling
to make them mine, though
perhaps because i'm never really trying.


that's how you do it:
you take what you want with
clawed hands
accomplish miracles with
thunderous silence —
an entity of cruel fairness,
icy anger but —
what you want is a complicated
with definite shape to your eyes
but blurry to those of

i'm neither believer nor seer but
here's a little prediction :
the day you are satisfied is the day
shuts down upon us all and
half of me
prays for it.


about extremes —
some will say grey is a better shade and
though i confess
it does have its charms,
it still has to paint me a picture more striking
than a soul with
adamentine purpose.

see —
i stare as you pass by,
terrific in beauty
beautiful in hardness and
off —
goes my heart, sanity, ego
and shirt.
Ophélie S Sep 2018
breathing filth hurts
we've known it far too well for comfort ;
clogged hearts


this is not opposites attract but
polar sames —
you scrub your hands for
the sixty seventh time this week and
i scrub your footprints off the bedroom floor with
ritual sanctimony —
the house reeks of turpentine but
it's the smell of c l e a n


it goes just like this
the repeating loop of a washing machine ;
mirror stains

Ophélie S Jul 2016
But what is even enough for you*, you ask
As if I shut myself
in the highest room of the Tower
on purpose;
who would do that?
I am no
If I throw my body
over the railing, I
have no idea what
will happen.

It would probably
just break my skull
if you don’t
catch me

— The End —