Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
to sprinkle over me and not baby powder
I can rise in this heat. And not lie as a wafer. It's much
safer when they don’t know you. None can expose
you. I’ve pulled apart like an onion flower, crispy on

the outside and silky on the in. But I’m more than
just a weeping, rolling bulb of yellow skin. I’ve
curdled over the years from jumping hurdles
as a horse. I’m looking for the path that’ll

take me on a different course. Old as the oak
in my backyard. But even he turns his leaves from green
to red and gold, a blooming marigold standing high
with head pushing through the sky. But I’m the sort

of woman that doesn’t shed her leaves. I’m tired of
acting like a dog matted down with fleas. I’m going to
shake loose from this noose wrapped around me.
 May 2022 Seranaea Jones
escumbag
I am so sedimental, but
the subtle differences between me and the crumbles of earth
are growing overwhelmingly stale.
when rocks are crushed, they are used to build up roads and homes.
things unknown to me.
those who collect these gems uncovered by time
will sometimes worship even earth’s smallest private parts,
carrying them around, close like a golden tick,
but there is no joy in keeping the crumbs of what was
at the most
a half grown, tiresome treat.
toss me into the water, drawn in by my flat surface and smooth curves
and watch me catch a breeze and sink to the bottom.
i’m no good at skipping, but it’s okay
because you’ll find another at the edges of the earth.
 May 2022 Seranaea Jones
SCHEDAR
Decomposing
in the dirt
I mingle with
underground,
come nightfall
in all the silence
my needy hand
wriggles up
from the cold earth
in search of
warmth

Silent whispers
Purple spoke to pink
Lavender winked
Somewhat convinced
Sugar red hibiscus
From his bed of green
Sprung into the conversation
With purple and pink
Yellow blush
Nine o clocks
Had to attend the briefing
By the sun
In his next meeting
The flowers seemed not to be in a rush
All, recently bloomed
They had moments enough  
To live
They tried to make the most of it
Under the rays of the sun
Flowers 🌸 🔆🌿🌿
Written - 23/07/2021
A picture from a thousand kisses ago.
We were so in love full of desire we
knew would last forever. We are always.
Until we aren't. What broke besides
our hearts? We never understood. We
just blamed boredom and each other.

A picture from a million kisses ago.
Older and wiser we still broke our
bed and didn't miss a beat. We were.
Then one day we found others to break
more beds and lost sight of love. ****
was what we did. Until we didn't bother.

A picture of me on my 90th. Wrinkled
and alone in assisted living with a
cupcake and candle and little cardboard
birthday hat aching for youth and
beaches and bars and young lovers
again to break more ******* beds.
Next page