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The beautiful sky endures the rain
The stars above continues to faint.

Fragile hearts were torn apart,
But at least
None of us lost
Our precious shards.

Darkness dwells, emptiness fills,
Losing like hell, missing your kiss.

We were made to climb the mountains
Instead we run around the fountains.

Love was strong this time of night,
Without you here, I'm in fright.
Where this arrow
all untamed
should land

Bury me there
in the greenwood

Or burn me on
the mighty river

Or give me to birds
or sea creatures
too fabulous to mention

Where this arrow falls
leave me there untended
time and flying arrow
spent
I am lost.









And i don't want to be found.
I need to be *saved
It is a night where I must craft my words
or try to weave lines on a broken loom.
To think a poem will spring forth is absurd.

Stillborn inspiration can't be stirred,
emotions drained away. I must assume
it is a night where I must craft my words.

My prayers to Muse fell back to earth, unheard.
All artistry has booked a separate room.
To think a poem will spring forth is absurd.

Striving merely churns my brain to curds,
its thin gray whey runs down some gutter's flume.
It is a night where I must craft my words.

A cadenced resolution's been deferred,
the last two lines will surely be my doom.
To think a poem will spring forth is absurd.

A peaceful flow of writing is deterred
until my buried spirit is exhumed.
It is a night where I must craft my words,
to think a poem will spring forth is absurd.
Ever had a time when you wanted to write in the worst possible way...and then did?
 Apr 2016 Rachel Keating
Pixievic
There you are ......
A lump
A lump of the kind that strikes fear in the breast of every woman
Hiding
Growing inside me
Like an embryonic cancer
Or a cyst
Or a symptom of age
Whatever you are
You're here .....
And I wish you weren't
I go about my mindless life
Left waiting to discover if I'm just
Old
Infected
or
Dying .....

(C) Pixievic
I debated as to whether to post this or not - it is not a plea for sympathy - more that I'm dealing with it on my own as in my 'real' life only 4 people know ...... It's what poetry is for right - to tell you lot the things I can't tell anyone else!!
voice in whispered tone
like breathy saxophone
I hold a longing moan
within

fingers through my strands
ruin all my plans
the way your calloused hands
grip skin

lips that taste like truth
of gin and dry vermouth
pierced by sinking tooth
and sin

I memorize your face
as I fade from this place
forgetting all that time and space
has been
My mind is a maze
Mirrored walls
Sloped floors
I can't find my way out of it

Like a circus freak show
My mind freaks me out
Terrorizing me in the night
Invading my resting dreams

But in these times I'm lost
Although I'm scared and alone
There is peace in these halls
Of my mazed mirrored mind
//On anxiety//
I do suffer from PTSD, due to trauma growing up. I've never been in the military or overseas.
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