The spring scent of flowers is rousing, heady.
I'd like for the blossom petals to rest upon my eyelashes such as a snowflake.

In my hair. And I can see my shadow hips gyrating with the rhythm of a cat, slow and smooth.

Painful pieces of my darken soul
are found within the potter's hands
Tiny specks
fall between his fingers
lingering in golden sands

My cracked heart bleeds through
to his touch

In my darkness
within this depressive state of mind
I cannot see
My eyes have fallen behind
the madness of my mind

Dullness leaves my eyes blind

I cannot understand why he bothers
to pick me up

One more time

In darkness,my heart sits
Never to truly feel
All my emotions slip through vacant holes
where all my senses leave my soul
Sitting alone in hollowness

I feel nothing

In this dark place
I sit within his loving grace
I cannot see to be 
even me
Darkness sweeps over
and I am blind

In this time I hold to him
who has passed through here
many times
I linger in a small glowing light
that voices say
are mine
Through transparent faith
I hold to God's grace
For without God's love and light
I would surely drown
in darkness
Putting my small light out
within this dark night.

By Weeping willow
(c) 2017 ;-\

Why is my heart always so heavy
No matter what comes to the day
Rain brings it on so quickly
Like a storm waiting to explode
So I sit quietly during these times
to God
Nicole Raymond Apr 18

My heart beats wild and without rhythm
as your tender fingerpads brush
my embered cheeks.

Yet I want to claw the skin you touch
til my face is set ablaze with blood.

I yearn for the blood burn of your lips
at the base of my neck,
breath warm and sweet as tea.

Though I grip my neck in despair,
choking that you cannot love me.

Every time I catch your gaze,
tensions rise from the pit of my being
like freed birds.

Still my eyes run as late spring rivers
as your tongue cuts me like fresh poultry.

My mind flurries with crisp thoughts of you,
each gentle and pure as fresh snowfall.

Nonetheless, I can only endure
the blue-limbed blizzard of self-loathing and blame
that should not be mine.

Toes curl in ecstasy
like vines in bright sunlight as we become one,
how I always dreamed.

Now my dreams turn to nightmares
as my blistered toes carry me mindless through
the desert of complete isolation.

My own warm fingers brush your face,
down the slow slope of your nose
to the petals that are your lips.

However, they hover,
unsure that the frame they grace
contains the paradox I love.

flaming hot and hard
brilliant bright riffs fill the air
mesmerizing notes

Rising hard rock band in Britain
The Lonely Bard Apr 15

Unwanted glory,
All of it was so gory,
And I am so sorry.

Why that day came,
And why I survived,
I do not know either.

It is as if I chose dear life,
Of the two choices there,
Now I doubt my choice.

There is no happiness,
And there is no sorrow,
Neither happy nor sad.

Unrequited love I dispensed,
How long will it take for me,
Always I repent after loving.

They ask me my story,
I tell them my saga,
Of love & suffering.

Then they get bored,
Too dreamy a story,
They take it all as fiction.

My HP Poem #1502
©Atul Kaushal
Kee Apr 12

I trip.
I don't want to get up.
I don't want to remember how  hard it is to get back up.
I just want to fall and never get up.
Leave me be.
It's cold, yes, but I don't want to be warm.
It's too hard to feel that again.
I'm numb, yes, but I don't want to feel.
It hurts too much t do that again, and again, and again.
When I know...
I'll only fall.

Makula Hala Apr 7

She cries out,
grapples for attention
from anyone
that will cast a glance
in her direction.
She speaks any words
that may hold their gaze upon her
for more than a minute.
Going home
to settle in alone again,
a fear she carries
behind her ear,
like a spare cigarette.
Instead of lighting it,
she drives,
avoiding the ashtray
of a home,
the place scattered with snubs of regret,
unfulfilled needs,
and the scent of wishing
for more.
She screams,
hoping her tone
will find a set of ears
that will convince
a pair of arms
that she is worthy of being held.
Maybe the whispers
of guilt
will quiet
if she has another voice
to listen to at night.
Maybe her tears will cease
if she has
another pair to get lost in.
She squeezes,
holds her fists tight
and clenches her jaw
as if being stiff like a rock,
the planet we stand upon,
will draw others closer,
letting gravity do all the work
because despite how strong she tries to appear,
she is weak.

Carson Hurley Apr 7

I am the darkness
that stole the light
I am the cold
that killed the flame
I am the wind
that wilts the wood
I am the In
that meets the sane

Kee Apr 2

I loved you, even if you made me feel like shit.
I loved you, because no one else did.
I loved you, because I thought it was the right thing.
I loved you, because I thought you couldn't live without me the way I couldn't live without you.
I loved you, because that seemed to be enough.
But who knew that loving you would be so...

Carson Hurley Apr 2

She sits alone
rolling the ice cubes around
the bottom of her empty glass
at first I am filled with
the overwhelming desire to approach
but as I look harder
between the blades of strobed lights
I see her cracks
though she sits as still at the night owl
deafened by the cacophony of
foolish conversation and bad music
I see she is unstable
I see she has not come for company
yet neither does she wish to be alone
this is her
the night owl
an empty house
an empty bed
but what is not empty
is the inside of her head
she is truly magnificent
but know one will ever know

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