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Rochelle Roberts Apr 2016
At night I see you in my dreams sometimes,
Alive again like when I last saw you,
Your body wrapped in celestial rhymes,
More ethereal than when I knew

You. Despite the beauty you betray,
You're just not real to me anymore,
Like a memory you're slipping away,
I can't see your face anymore. I pour

My heart out on a page trying to scrape
Away the quiet emptiness, the lonely
Despairing tears disfiguring the shape
Of what my eyes can see, but it only

gets worse. At this point I'll have to make do,
I'm still drowning in the memory of you.
Rochelle Roberts Apr 2016
I'm stuck in this room
Trapped by the decaying white walls
That I scrape away at,
Mindlessly, as I shift
From medicated dreams to
Manic insomnia.
I thought the last thing I said to you was
Don't leave me here.

My eyes bleed
As I try to remove the demons
Infesting me,
Creeping through my lashes
Into my irises.
The droplets stain the walls,
Fingerprinting my frenzied panic,
Echoing the last thing I said to you.
Why did you leave me here?

The air is intoxicating,
Shifting from breathlessness to weightlessness.
I'm sure they poison me here.
And you, the fallen angel of my thoughts,
You fiendish whisperer,
You have felt my fear,
Witnessed its brutality
In its shifting manifestations,
But still you left me here.
This poem was inspired by artwork by Tracey Emin of the same name.
Mar 2016 · 271
Rochelle Roberts Mar 2016
I lay (in) fort
puffed plumpy pillows
under sheen of silk slopes
up to touch you.

We lay (in) fort
slowly touching lips brushing
fluffy puffy clouds crunching
between teeth munching.

You lay (in) fort
sipping frothy velvety chocolaty
drips between throat licking
love making.
Mar 2016 · 414
Deep Sleep Breathing
Rochelle Roberts Mar 2016
Shallow still darkness, angless shapes
move across the floor. Your teeth bite
down on my little moving parts, slip softly into comatose.

The stench from your breath is acerbic, rotten
particles of yesterday's remembrance floating in between canine,
molars, pearly whites.

I love the feeling, love the dead pan feeling. Comatose
take me to the underworld it took you.
Mar 2016 · 440
Rochelle Roberts Mar 2016
My bones lay in bed,
thigh bones resting against
ribs, fingers touching your
side, cold, pillow undented
by your head.
Insomnia plagues my bones
in your absence;
they cannot sleep without
your bones to lay upon,
the need for you is too deeply
Mar 2016 · 444
Watercolour Stains
Rochelle Roberts Mar 2016
He loved her madly
Pinched skin, purple and blue. Still
her tears gave him joy.
Mar 2016 · 687
Rochelle Roberts Mar 2016
We move in strange ways
Our minds have gone insane
Dark haunting jerks of
Misrepresentation clinging grotesquely
To our fragile bones.
We live in fear, wonder slipping from
Empty eyes, crying in an
Echoing silence, still moving
In rituals. Lies whispered between
Truthful teeth, seeping deceit as we
Lie in wakeful drunkenness
Absorbing the black
Outside our window.

— The End —