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What does love look like today?

Today love looks like sweet, sultry music...
I feel myself a child of the moon,
Dancing with wine in her hands.
I feel like lavender and honey,
Sweet and attending to
Your breathing,
Your melting,
Your heavy...
Like skin on skin
Like oil on canvas
Like chocolate candles
Like running all over each other...
Poetress2 Apr 6
After the nightly news,
she faces the ***** wall;
She ***** her wrinkled thumb,
as she curls up in a ball.
~
She knows what's soon to come,
it happens every night;
When the nightly news is over,
this small child's full of fright.
~
And just like all the nights before,
they come into her room;
She has to reassure herself,
"This will all be over soon."
~
Her breathing becomes shallow,
"Perhaps they'll think I'm dead;"
"Your being such a good, little girl,"
is the only words they said.
~
Motionless she lays there,
as they touch her baby soft skin;
She feels overwhelmingly ill,
guilty and shamed from within.
~
When they are finished using her,
they leave without saying a word;
She shakes as she cradles her Teddy,
this precious three-year old girl.
we are the machine
and the ghost within
all bound together
in one breathing,
dreaming body
writingsolo Apr 5
When we left off last time, you were learning to deal with your anxiety,                        
how have your breathing exercises helped?                                                                  

They make it easier and it goes away but -
((  sometimes at night when the dreams are what make up my reality,
sometimes it hurts to breathe and then I don't want to because
trying to live seems like so much work
for my lungs to hurt so much ))
- I think I need more practice.
Comments/Questions/Concerns?
<3 l8r
newpoetica Mar 22
the last time you held my hand was a decade ago
for a long time afterwards, life was at an all time low
but i recovered and i healed
because i learned that when life throws you a curveball, it doesn't mean your fate is sealed
i lost you and it hurt
your love for me should have been natural, like in the morning when one puts on a shirt
so yah i'm in pain staring at you now, as the tears roll down my face
i now rest my case
reality has set in, i'm no longer angry at you for leaving
i'm just sad that you decided to go, and that i have to live without you and i'm reminded of that through my breathing
this is about my grandmother who disowned me, that's all you have to know. i was reminded of her today in a way i wish that i wasn't, but it happened and i just have to take the hits and breathe.
Stephen James Mar 20
breathing—with eyes closed
the stillness of the moment
wind caressed my cheek
a haiku
When the loneliness envelops me like cold dark water, and the waves come crashing over my head.
When between tired desperate gasps for air all I can do Is release water from my mouth.
To pretend for a few seconds longer that I am able to keep my lungs safe from this storm.
When all I can feel is pain and the self-made chaos swirls in menacing clouds above my head.

I think of letting you go, of a world where contentment and nice are worn as badges.
Until I remember that no world without you in is worth waking up in at all.
So I splutter up another lungful and pray for a few more seconds with you.
KT Torres Mar 10
Stop
Take a look, just for a moment, go on do it
What do you see?
No, do not say ‘me’
How about that weeping man?
Who claimed to always have a plan
Now look over at that young couple
They’re recently engaged
You can see the sparkles in their eyes and their glittering diamonds
In a time not too long ago that would’ve been impossible, right?
Don’t forget the shouting children
They run and run
But not from their problems, no
They do it for fun
Do you see what I mean?
All of these complex human beings, walking around
Just existing, like you and me
Breathing and feeling
Like you and me
I know that sonder's validity as a word is contested, but I still like it.
Tori Mar 8
Sleepless dreaming, framed by screaming.
Is she breathing?
Take the time.
One. Two. Three.
I wonder…
Four. Five.
Is death kind?
Six. Seven.
Will she make it?
Eight. Nine.
Never mind.
Marble eyes roll in their pockets,
Arms and legs seizing their sockets,
Groaning breath sends lips aquiver,
Her tiny figure writhes and shivers.
Ten. Eleven
How much longer?
Twelve. Dear God!
Let her be stronger.
A Toneless voice of mock assurance,
Won’t deter these pulsing currents,
Tongues detained by ball and chain,
Massage the air to ease the pain.
Thirteen comes.
Now slowly, easy.
Fourteen.
The sound of gentle breathing.
Dimple-drawn, her mouths sweet boarders,
Pull that weak smile from its cask,
Inhale relief, a hard won nectar,
Her limbs all leaded from their task.
One nod from death,
one swift departure
and for the moment, all is fine.
The clock's cold hands
continue turning,
So don't forget to take the time.
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