You beat my heart to dust
Then used it too make a wish
For too he heart of another girl.
I woke up this morning without the scent of your coffee in the air.
I scrunched my eyes and tried to sniff,
but the scent of your body wasn't there.
I paused, then frowned, confused by the missing fragrances.
Crawling out of bed, I made my way to the kitchen,
only to find a letter full of bullshit sentences.
"I'm sorry," you wrote, "I'm leaving you now."
"My heart isn't happy here, I wanted to tell you sooner but I didn't know how."
I crumpled the paper as my eyes became full,
my intentions were pure, how could I have been such a fool?
"not happy here," replayed in my brain,
surely I was going crazy, maybe this is just a game.
with blurry eyes, I walked through the house
noticing your belongings were still there.
Confused, then angry, I thought,
"Leaving reminders isn't really that fair."
Then reality set, and I remembered your struggles.
Fear came next and I was screaming at the bubbles.
There you laid,
submerged in the water
"nothappyherenothappyherenothappyhere" it wouldn't stop
replay replay replay
why won't it stop?
Your wet body in my arms, I dialed for the operator.
I knew you were too far gone but I had to try for a doctor.
How could you leave me, but how could you not?
Your mind was your monster and it grew stronger than I thought.
The EMT's came but it all stayed a blur.
White walls, white rooms, but nothing of her.
"3:42 a.m." they said,
the number of your passing.
So everyday I've sat and grieved,
questioning my actions.
You're gone and I'm alone.
Left with all these thoughts.
People have come and gone
but my demons are all I've got.
You left and I'm alone.
Losing my own battles.
I don't want to fight,
I don't want these struggles
and now I finally understand
why you chose the bubbles.
Likes, of hearts red, a positive memo in mailbox,
a sun bright, all become tickles inside my heart.
Little energetic sparks of encouragement
to light up words percolating in mind.
The likes become fuel for the wandering poetess I am.
A poet, who walks in breath infused with an idea.
A scribe, who dances to the music of a readers smile.
A writer, who holds gratitude for all those who write,
as we are family.
Thats me! One who savors all the red hearts I can gather, to plant in my poetic flower bed in mind. The field I caretake for a bouquet of poems to be picked and shared.
THANKS followers and others who come to my door step of a page. Happy reading!
Who is to know whether this heart is or ever could be pure?
What are its motivations?
It is inconstant and ever-changing as the sea.
The wind takes it where it will.
I can only hope that-- deep down-- it works for good.
Do we mean clean? Untouched? Intact? Highly concentrated? Sanctified?
Suppose I fail the test?
Once upon a time,
there was a princess
named Luna, she
ruled the kingdom
of the moon, until
the queen, the former,
now elderly, ruler had
passed away, so the
and the princess was
left to wander the
stars, her heart
was a void of
sadness after the
queen died and the
with the mist, she
roamed the shadows
of space, until
she found a
closer, she found
the prince of the sun,
he was also sad, as
his planet was
engulfed by a
larger star, the
to him, "we are
both very sad,
so we will heal
they held hands,
feeling the power
of their hearts
light of love,
they birthed the
new kingdom of
Luna and Sol
Please let me touch your hair
These fingers unworthy of such magnificence
My unholy hands with blemishes unknown
Hair so perfect, it should turn my fingers pure,
So that I would feel its texture, understand its nature
Curly, Straight, Silky, soft, coarse….. hair worth a thousand stories,
Histories unknown laid beneath these holy strands
Hair that defines your identity, sets you apart from sinners,
Let me tap into that story, let me touch and feel its Allure
Please Let me love your hair
Strands and strands buried deep into your skin
Makes me wonder ‘what lies beneath, what holds it in place’?
Irrevocable stares won’t do it justice
Like fresh daisies, sweet smelling hair
My love would cherish its scent
Such beauty and wealth on your head
No wonder you brush and flip so coy.
Please let me have your hair,
Peace of mind that comes with knowing that I can own such beauty,
Us unfortunate, bald with no identity
Deficient beings, the gods have been partial
Taking the genes of perfection from us undeserving
Maybe your hair will cleanse me from all my insecurities
It should redefine my imperfect existence
If only I could make it last a little longer
I would show you what it means to love and cherish your hair forever.
is a horrible thing.
It's wishing death upon
someone or something.
It's like love in the way of,
if it's not in your life, you
don't care that much.
Some people wish
they wouldn't or they don't,
they can't or they won't,
have hate in their hearts,
but really its on their part
whether or not the accept the crime.
The crime might be in their hearts,
but not in mine.