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Jane Aug 2020
My boyfriend has two cardigans
Exactly the same softness, dark grey, cold zip and asymmetric cut
I'm wearing one, my legs curled beneath the other
Frustratingly cold on the sofa when the stagnant bedroom air was near suffocating moments before
My eyes are heavy, tired, blurry with sleep, alert thanks to anxiety
Brain on a loop of words and feelings and fears
Mostly desperation to not disturb his sleep and a break in the summer heat
Jane Aug 2020
Limbs heavy, joints creak with aging beyond their years
My eyes are heavy with tears I don't have because the aching chasm in my chest is frantically drawing every drop of water in my body to fill it up so there's something there, parched and so empty that each tear drop echoes in the hollow cavern. My ears are ringing, auditory canal itching, lips tingling. My body is having a reaction, allergic to my brain and the toxins
chemicals of imbalance
sadness
Jane Aug 2020
Lips stained by the juice of the pomegranate she
devours while thinking on him
Rolling seeds across the roof of her mouth with her tongue.

Bountiful contradictions in her empty palms.
She does not exist to perform his redemption arc
or become the harbinger of his destruction.

Playful, serious, light and dark
She reminds me that there is both light and dark in all of us
Can love really be so simple and so complex?
Must we give everything to gain everything?
Can such a fiery passion be felt so deep and never burn out?
Jane Aug 2020
The Deathly Hallows -
aptly titled for hauntings of a soul
tormented by its own creations

The stone turns in time with heart beats
a rhythm set to the mourning for loved ones lost to time
no peace can grow here while the loneliness creaks in my bones

The wand, brittle, breaks as the back
bends under the weight of memories, promises, histories long forgotten
and the power is not in the spine or the soul

The cloak muffles as questions, regrets, tales of lives gone by catch in the throat,
suffocating and tangled in limbs
restricting the body from view, from vitality

Pain echoes through these hallowed halls
and Death is ushered in, a welcomed friend to quiet the mind plagued,
one final act of brutal emancipation.
Jane Aug 2020
reflections unmask
a morose acceptance of bone-deep sadness - pain that both is born and obliterates at a cellular existence
there's a gory irony in that, grossly mantled as a token of loss and a cautionary tale.

be wary of the unseen, unheard spectre
with far reaching influence
and a seductive promise of something more.

enshrined. shrouded. cloaked.
euphemistic hinting of evasion and avoidance, as though detection both
forces acknowledgement of existence and persistence - an inevitable reckoning.
untouchable. unwinnable. unbearable.
Jane Aug 2020
revisiting the words I write on heart-weary days,
I can taste the emotional exhaustion
in its metallic meloncholy
and a slight bitterness at the shadow
they leave on my soul
when sweet words of brighter days
are far harder to wrap my tongue around
in ways that echo through my chest ever after
Jane Aug 2020
I'm beginning to see the beauty of an unassuming monotony, complete lack of remark or incredulity, the repetitive sameness of minutes, days, weeks. Corners of gold in sunlit brick. Echoes of dreams in the creases of bed linen. Sumptuous, biteable plumpness of the aloe on the window sill. Water moves differently. Cold has a taste. The numbness ebbs away from senses - sight, taste, smell, imagination slowly filling with renewed insight as the world around remains exactly the same.
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