A deep breath escapes his sinking ribs,
A quiet captivating abandon
Under a crisp cool cloak,
His deep veined arm stretches over my shoulder
Wrapping my figure,
An inert force flexed under my cupped palm
Effortlessly pulling and pinning me,
His assets kept safe under silent supervision.

I wear my magic like a cloak,
green as Vulcan blood.

It transforms me
into a woman who can command a room.

The muscles in my cheeks,
my brow, my jaw
are enchanted.
They dissolve my resting ***** face
into inviting smiles and encouraging looks.

The canals of my body
become highways.
Words zoom into my ears.
More words whizz from my throat.

When I step out of my magic
it clatters to the floor,
heavy as bronze armor.

I climb in bed,
tomorrow’s mystery on my breath.

Will I have the strength
to wield it again?

I carry a coat
Filled with my past
Its has old notes
Scrawled across like signatures on a cast

I have spirits living in the pockets
Demons sinking in through moth eaten holes
They whisper your name in sonnets
Convey and disclose

This cloak
Is ancient
Is heavy
The apparitions do nothing but reminisce

Mummi despised
wearing clothing belonging to the deceased
“It is bad luck to not let bhoots subside”
She spoke at me
Rather than directly to her beti
But what of the ghosts I am forced to wear mother?
When will they leave?

i can feel your arms wrap around me like a big soft blanket
your smooth fingers graze my head gently
the darkness of your cloak is so soothing as if the colors itself could envelope me
you smell of nothing only a soft scent of something fresh yet old
you whispher sweet nothings in my ear telling me to not let go
my eyes droop into the warmth
tired and exausted
but then i sense the scent of something sweet
my body awakens as something walks nearer
the warmth of a light drives away the comfort of the cloak
i feel bare yet warm
my eyes open again revealing a child who wears a yellow dress
barely reaching above their knees
it smiles at me
such happiness pours into me
i crack a smile
it holds a hand for me to take
i give it a finger its tiny hands grasp around it
pulling me somewhere
we begin to walk my eyes widening
i rip my finger from its grasp
it looks confused but i only shake a head my body trembles
i run back to the cloak
for its arms to devour me again
the familiar warmth kisses me as the process starts over again
the cloak whispers sweet nothings to me
like a mother comforting her child
she says
theres nothing for you but me

I'm so **** scared of the future
with death's vast scythe circling
'round my throats about to
slice the stamina right out of me.
I'm so **** afraid of the next step
of what's coming for me which is
completely unknown and foreign.
Death's black cloak resembles a cover shrouding me in darkness
dismantling my sense of safety
threatening to suffocate me.
I'm so **** frightened of finding out how you truly feel about me
deep inside past all this *******.
It's going to be okay but I'm swallowing my tongue because death's cold skull stare is beating my brain to submission and I'm about to topple over from all the weight even though I know

you care about me.

But I'm still terrified

of the truth

whatever it could be.

But I'm still terrified

of venturing forth into

unknown territory

without a plan or a structure
without direction or control
without truly knowing
anything.

I'm so **** scared of the future
that it might tear my skin away
to reveal that I'm only made of
flesh and blood and bone and guts
and not the thick metal and steel that I thought I was made of.

I'm so **** scared of what's coming of finding out something of communicating my feeling to you

because it could change

everything.

And Death's shiny sycthe
still glints

at my quivering throat

and I gulp as I try to be brave
but bravery is not my strong suit.

of warm blankets,
under which limbs are tangled,
and skin is touching skin,
as we try to exchange words,
using only our bodies,


and bright screens,
filled with adventure,
and competition,
setting our minds to focus,
even though,
I am thinking of you,


and bright blue screens,
waiting patiently for a time,
yet to come,


and quick moves,
projected strategy,
on a blank wall,
a canvas of competition,
shedding light on our warring minds,


and a smooth talking voice,
flowing like silk,
from a smirking mouth,
that does unspeakable things to me,


and a face,
like a sinners,
beautiful and dark,
hiding things,
I can only guess,


and cool nights,
with softly shining moonlight,
goading me outside,
so I can remember who I am,


and a lithe body,
pressed up against my stocky form,
sporting a somehow curvaceous,
smile,

There’s a cloak I keep around
A fine, invisible one
One cannot feel its texture,
Or play with it for fun.
I can’t hear its many sounds
And neither can I see
The object of my leisure
A worker’s company.

How do I know it exists?
Perhaps I fool my brain
It’s a phantom wisp of air
That somehow hides my pain
That helps calm when one persists
In hurting what’s inside
The worn bubble worse for wear
When all weak tears are dried.

When internal demons wake
The cloth begins to fray
When the heart is torn apart
The stitches do not stay
The joints start to tear and break
Grow weak with weeping thread,
The engine now cannot start
One that was always dead.

Through the holes they find the *****
Some fellows in my land
Working their way through the fold
Turning stone to mere sand.
Why do they not stop to think
‘What is this good fabric?
Looking so when once so bold
Despicable magic!’

Therein lies the bitter truth
The folly of our time
They cannot see the poor cloak
As it is in this rhyme!
Only the wearer can sleuth
Which holes made when, are where
Through dumbness, anger it soaks
Each cruel word, each harsh stare.

Pull it closer, guard within
The fragile soul and smile
Hide well, know with clarity
That it is worth your while
Each mistake you call a sin
Throw it outside the cloth
With faithful integrity
Forgiven, not forgot.

Then build inside nerves of steel
Strength of iron so great
In the kiln of your own brick
Control what you create
Take the helm, but do not seal
The course of actions done
Know the plan, but do not trick
Make hay under the sun.

Make points clear, do not mask
With some thoughts said aloud
Keep a hat large for your head
I mean- do not be proud.
Perform with love each tough task
In your own, unique way
Care and earn, and share your bread
With every passing day.

Mend the cloak as you move on
With the good gift of life
Show it off well when you can
Fighting undeserved strife.
You don’t know why you were born
You do not have to wait
The brave roar of a lion sang
From stories of your fate.