I wrote fantasies and I wrote about sleep
I wrote about demons and
how they danced around a fire in my dreams
I wrote about skeletons in my closet that suffocated me
I wrote about monsters that I rolled around with
In my sheets and when “I love you”
Used to sound sweet
I wrote until my brain stopped flooding and my fingertips began to bleed

Poetry
       i wrote until it
              Finally
          Became easier to
Breathe
m.d

Expelled before I could haunt
your time,
             I wanted to be within you.

Wanting to wonder your halls,
         but I wasn't given time

to

show you that not every floor board
    was creepy, I just wanted to show


that you weren't alone,
                            what did I have to lose
I was no body..

But you exorcized your right,
           had that cloth man come

in your house...

But I showed him
                     that there is more
than one way to

                           defrock a cloth...


I locked him in his mind,
for a man of god there were some
                       dark things in there to
keep him in purgatory
                                 for more than this life time.

I touched your face,
                        it wasn't cold but warmth,


            never to harm but to keep safely
from those who'd do you harm.

A ring spins on the floor, words circular
at speed spelling out in blurred exhaustion.


                                                       I love you....

Comes his waking breath
against my pinched face
in the early morning hour
of our lofty, soft embrace.
He pulls the sheets like the tide
of a sad twinkling moon,
making sure to hold me warm,
so that I won't leave so soon.

It is as if I had been swimming along a river all my life, guided by the banks
when I was suddenly thrown into the ocean without a shore to lead me.
And the vast unknown is unsettling, wide, and deep.

I forget that I can swim.
Or perhaps I am tossed by currents I did not know existed.

And on days, I even forget that it is in fact the water that keeps me alive,
and I feel that I am drowning, searching for air.

You were my dusk
                       to my horizon.

As somewhere we were either
      rising above
               or
s
i
n
k
i
n
g
                             below.

Hues at dusk kissed the luminosity
     clinging to the last vestiges
                  that were kisses sent
as a parting gift of crimson lipstick
                   shades  upon the atmosphere.

Horizons would be a breath of fresh air,
                     or downpours of emotion.
I could either be a fresh breeze of inspiration
                                on a new day.

Or missing you, a deluge of seasonal
                                        falling..

But you always managed to lift me up
                       no matter the day...

You made me look at what life was,
       and to always shine upon the moments
that help me rise higher everyday,

for the
               eternity of us...

Tides and waves
Eroding groans from shells on stones
The tip from depths
A finite breath
Darker swells where stars dwell
Dwarfs or suns to midnight runs
Nothing is here to stay