#journeys poems on Hello Poetry

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

I live a life collecting pieces.

Pieces of fantasies forever the

realm of

childhood;

Pieces of imaginations turned wild and wonderful.

Pieces of laughter, confusion, delight and tears.

Pieces of melancholy, shards of sorrow;

fragments of regret, portions of jealousy.

Sections of desire, passion, leading us on

blindly to others of

heartache and yearning.

The rough edges of frustration, yet the

smooth curves of contentment, peace.

I live a life collecting pieces;

this is what I’m told makes a life worthy.

Worthy of remembrance, joy; fulfilment.

But only I can see the struggles,

feel my bones bearing more weight;

the aching tiredness I fall into,

when I’m not at work,

collecting the pieces I speak of.

The fright I hastily pick up off the ground,

when I compare my clumsy, ***** array of

pieces to your perfect and bound ones;

when you aren’t looking.

The dread I reach for, because you leave it crushed

beneath your feet.

The nervous tension pulling strings beneath my skin;

leaving me a reckless, vulnerable puppet

collecting the pieces left in your wake.

Torn to scattered, dusty pieces;

Reborn a puzzle of simplicities,

bright and shining pieces woven into form.

No matter where we have been, where we

were taken,

where we were loved,

where we were betrayed,

where we fought bravely,

where we surrendered nobly,

where we were embittered,

where we learnt of strengths and weaknesses;

we are all made of pieces.

We are collections of pieces.

You and I.

Our collection is known as life;

each piece is our experience of something.

Someone.

Somewhere.

And the more we know each other, the more

often our hands can reach for two of the same,

available pieces left before us.

I pen them down, keep them special and fragrant.

I live a life collecting pieces

and often they are of you.

#reflection #healing #self-acceptance #experiences #journeys #personalhealth #loveandadventure #canihaveyouback

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

How To Process Hurt

This is what hurt looks like.

This is what pain creates, added that

you are conditioned to feel sad.

Chemicals unbalanced and unchecked,

You’re a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

The sudden icy tingle of cold

as you move from warm sunlight to shade;

the sudden shimmer before your eyes,

blending into the last sight you wish to see that day.

The sudden jump in your sleep,

before you fall and wake knowing you will, soon;

the sudden lights that dance before you,

before you know they’ll eclipse you as soon

as you are left alone.

These are all the ways you are unpredictable.

These are all the little things you

plead for others to understand.

And all the little things they never will.

Because that is the cruelest blow, the

omnipresent bleed underneath the skin,

the constant broken limb and sickness that

doesn’t heal.

That is the cruelest part of all;

they just don’t understand.

I write and let the frustrations climb the pages;

mountains inked out before me to mark

the journey’s edges.

I write and leave traces of every scar and wound,

praying one day you will find them.

I write to leave it all behind;

leave the roads mapped as far as they have been followed.

I write in order to tell you things I no longer can,

to remind you of what I was, what I did, how

I helped you move on to someone else.

I write to ask you the questions you never allowed me to,

to ask why

how,

who,

when?

This is how I process all the ways I hurt.

So I can avoid the physical cuts and bruises.

So I can gather my defences, to brace another onslaught.

So I can enjoy, love, laugh, grow while my demons

are away, left on quests to search for the proofs they can

use against me; paste on walls in my mind.

I know you won’t understand,

I know you can’t and I have learnt to allow you

to fall short.

But you need to hear some truths regardless.

This is how I process all the ways I hurt.

How do you look at yours?

#relationships #hurt #reflection #healing #movingon #mentalhealth #journeys #istillloveyou #sourfeels #makingmoves

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

Biochemical Addiction

We always make sure to hold each other.

We always cry to be wrapped in

each other,

heated embraces,

breathless kisses;

trailing bodies and entwining limbs.

I pen this wrapped in your abandoned

bed sheets,

the lingering smell of you staining my skin.

I sprawl over where you laid,

hoping to take in as much as I can of you.

I pen this while we’re disentangled,

to let you know something.

Please don’t loosen yourself from me.

Please, I worry when I wake

in your bed to find you were never

once there; you were never once taking me in your arms.

I pen this because I’ve realised what

makes it so painful,

to imagine you lost from me;

a distant, faded smudge in a photo album.

You’re a biochemical addiction,

a drug I can’t seem to avoid, I can’t seem

to stop taking my daily shot.

A sheer addiction rooting me down to my

bare bones.

I pen this because what we are is purely

selfish.

Relationships are purely narcissistic.

Lost in reflections of each other,

I want to love you as much as I can

while I want you

to love me as much as I can only try to love myself.

I pen this to open up the box of secrets that

sleeps between us.

To open up the lies we paint on each other’s skin,

when we lie in bed and dream across each other.

We bury our hearts in the beautiful rubble of

romance, ecstasy, heated passion and blissful reunions

of bodies and loves.

But really we cover our insecurities.

We believe we are worthy only when we know

we can be desired by another.

We believe in love, only when we are the object of attention,

not in our own eyes, but reflected in yours.

I pen this because we are each other’s poetry.

The sketches I get to make of you,

the colours you can pull out of me and place

on your canvas.

I pen this,

because it’s so impossible to let you go.

#relationships #reflection #journeys #loveandloss #justthisoncepleasesomethingelse #welljustuseeachother #whatthisreallyis #tryingtokeepyou

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

Burdens and Treasures

A crumpled dress thrown like rags

upon the floor.

The hopeless, desperate appeal

of rumpled bed sheets, a fortress of

your own.

Waiting for a message in silence,

curled and surrounded by your

dismembered pieces.

The days when you shy away from

the light;

Wrapped in a wall of quiet,

except this isn’t calm.

It’s an unbearable weight,

marking impressions on your skin.

It’s a deep, roaring stillness;

gushing, rolling and sweeping around

everything you touch.

People can leer,

eyes prying to find what

little cracks you speak of.

But they are immune to what you feel,

layered beneath your skin;

what you see etched in coloured mixes,

painted brushstrokes making art around you;

what you hear and sense;

what you think, to yourself,

the countless visions and places you peek

behind doors unknown to them.

The freedom you alone shall know;

yet all the painful days to follow.

The brilliance you alone can seek;

yet the relentless torments you are to meet.

The feats of strength, russet desire and

hidden depths you could show;

yet all the nervous energy,

self conscious woe you show.

You can be the exhibit of both worlds.

You know what it is to feel the deep burn

of quiet pain inside,

yet the warmth of healing and the

fiery blaze of strength.

Be the exhibit you know you are.

Render even the most lonely and heartbreaking

of your moments beautiful.

Because they truly are.

You may feel broken, torn and ripped in places

you long forgot could be wounded.

You may feel empty, insides carved out for

another’s purposes.

You may feel bereft, lost, confused and vague,

feeling the frightening gaze of the unknown making you

their favourite puppet.

But burdens can be treasures.

Use them and invite people to your show.

Make them laugh, cry and grow.

Your burdens and treasures are necessary,

to be the exact person you are.

Without them there is numbing, nothing.

And you,

you can be more beautiful than that.

#reflection #healing #mentalhealth #journeys #self-worth #makingmoves

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

Little Revolutions

It’s so sweet,
how you held my hand in yours
and I could tremble inside.
It was a basic touch.
Not at all very much,
but I could feel your warmth,
your fingers caress my hand
as I surrendered to the dreams of you
that night.
And a new revolution ticks over.

Begin again.
Brighter and stronger as a flame,
you are drawn to the light.
This cycle, I can feel your lips meet mine.
The gentle press of your mouth, slowly
quickening as of a new blaze.
It was a larger gift than I foresaw,
but it left me aching, desiring more.
We are both not left wanting at all.
Tick, and a new revolution greets me.

To begin again.
You cradle me in your arms,
tight and close and I never want to let go.
Feathery touches tracing my body,
up and down you caress,
as soft yet powerful as spider’s silk.
We kiss and it leaves us out of breath.
I’ve never wanted you like this before,
leaving me craving for what’s in store.
Before a revolution takes hold.

A fresh morning, a new start.
I seem to float beside you;
you leave me drifting after you,
a ghost still attached to its haunts. 
You are still as warm and beautiful as I remember.
You still leave me laughing and my
soul singing like no one has before.
But it strips me down to the core,
waiting for a new revolution again.

These little revolutions.
New cycles happen all around us,
to us;
weaving, pulling, cleaving and breaking;
lifting, strengthening, soothing and exciting.
All these little revolutions.

#anxiety #relationships #strength #self-acceptance #experiences #journeys

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

Sins At My Feet

It made me want to cry before you; eyes raining a storm and

pleading you to reconsider. I could feel all my sins wash into

a lake at my feet; their ***** colours blending and swirling

in a sordid affair of truths.

The sad loss of words beside me. You just stared at the mess

at my feet; and I could see the weight inside begin to crush you.

I’m so sorry I can see what I have done. I’m so sorry it has been me all

along that would break you.

In love and loss, I knew I would be the witness for both. Deep in a

tormented heart, gnawed and bitten down by myself,

I have to live with what I’ve done.

I have to see us sever; detach and crumble,

together yet painfully separate.

Two howling wolves buried in deep snow.

Come on, let’s get you home – you said to the ground.

I know you still hunt for answers. The words I couldn’t

gift-wrap for you because I lost the fight to voice them.

They are still here. I will keep waiting for you.

Trying to pass on the box of answers you seek;

I just want to take them out of their grave, and finally

let you see the pain in them.

And the love I’ll always preserve for you.

#relationships #reflection #grief #experiences #journeys #istillloveyou

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

The Hunted

Do you know what it’s like,

to be the hunted?

The pursued;

the object, the target,

the one stalked like wounded prey

as the lights turn off.

You never called off your

hunting parade.

You took advantage of your skill.

You moved on me;

a soundless shadow creeping

along the walls,

clutching fear and regret in your hands

as weapons to

take

me

down.

Brutal, savage beast you are;

only I can see those jagged teeth,

razor spikes contouring your spine,

as you grab me from behind.

The darkness colours you,

brings out more than daylight ever could.

It suits you, you and the coal and soot

you shed

in my bed.

Warm, sticky blood you open like a tap.

You rip and tear and

reap your rewards

after such a masterful ****.

You left me wounded, dripping blood

like a grimy trail behind me.

Leaving me more vulnerable to

fresh attack

than ever before.

But there was something worse still;

more terrifying than any shot from your gun.

You left more than a scar, more than

a raw wound.

You left something behind that can’t be healed.

It becomes part of my being,

inserting itself into my body,

protruding it’s toxic spikes into

any future I have;

any future that might involve a lover,

any chance at companionship.

You battered me to a ****** pulp;

a ragged mess no one could ever

risk touching,

without the blood covering themselves too.

It would seep into the sheets between us lovers;

it would attack me quietly, viciously;

It would bring out the worst in me,

and every time I would be forced to save him.

Save him from myself.

Look at what you did to me,

foul, disgusting ghost you now are.

You’re the nightmare I hide.

You’re the burn on my skin I keep in the dark.

You’re the voice I try and drown in rapid

loves, fleeting desires.

You’re my brand. You’re the one who

decides my fate from now on.

You pillaged without consent.

You never even knew what you delivered

or what

you

stole.

The hunted.

That is what I am now.

The weak creature, struggling to

heal.

And I can never tell lovers what this

sad, lonely,

aching story means.

What I can offer gets buried in fear.

I can never voice the pain that

rips in waves,

icy and sickly

in my bloodstream.

I can’t voice the remorse,

or the loneliness I shall always greet,

before they flee,

the sound of receding footsteps they beat.

#grief #loneliness #journeys #heart-ache #self-worth #beingusedandabused

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

Tendrils of Memories Circle

Tentative tendrils of memories

encircle me today.

I eat, bathe and walk with them;

whispering sweet words;

grazing my ears with kisses

of the past.

I can feel myself weaken,

give in to your misty essence.

What place are you going to take me

to this time?

I know what images you please yourself with

are at least real.

Were real.

Not just sickly cravings, fantasies of an

escapist.

But reminiscing can be painful too.

You coalesce at the corners of my vision;

Beautiful, frail beings of floating moments.

My own ghosts;

you don’t haunt or stalk,

but drift alongside me.

Every few minutes I’ll walk through you,

and images will flood me.

Voices, colours, senses,

emotions;

a pocket of the past to relive again.

This one is fresh.

Recently swaddled and placed in storage.

How considerate of you.

To make me remember what the rapid fall

for a new love is like.

The reserved smiles, thinking you can

peek and they wouldn’t see.

The shy touches, always longing for something

heated.

The small toss and throw, between words,

gestures, hands and hearts and lips aching to

be closer.

The world vanished,

****** into its own black hole,

when I laid eyes on you.

I melted.

Seeped into warm, golden streams.

You left me feeling bold, my

desire unchallenged;

you pulled it out of me

like pulling string out of its coil.

Your arms slowly made the journey

around my slender waist;

holding me close.

I could nuzzle and cling

and I never wanted you to pull away.

Ever again.

Wrapped in each other’s warmth below the

map of stars and before

the beacons of the city,

our kiss was slow and long,

sweet,

sugary taste and warming.

A fire at the first spark, rising from ash.

Ghost, why trail me like this?

On those days I have yet to see him,

I still crave him.

You remind me of that lingering pull.

I sit on that bench where we embraced,

but he isn’t there.

All I know is you ghost.

Hovering beside me,

a still, pale presence moulding

into him.

But you are empty.

A white spectre leaving me wanting.

Stop shedding my memories before me

like dead skin.

They were.

Stop reminding me.

I’m still left yearning after your visit

to my mind.

Rooting through the archives,

trudging through my still weeping pieces.

I pull away, and your vision collapses.

Finally you fade into nothing.

I can be at peace without your play.

#relationships #reflection #daydreaming #journeys #ruminating

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

Defining A Moment

Idle moments,

forgotten dreams.

Listless wanderings,

raucous play and empty hearts,

bleeding away the foul nights.

What is a moment?

Come take a walk through the infinite second;

void of definition, standard or law.

Come and watch with me.

The sordid dens filled with debauchery;

the lonely houses drowning in darkness;

the enchanting thrill of lovers’ chase;

hearts stolen in the quiet night;

nightmares frightened off with the touches of a lover.

Come, let’s discover the possibilities of one single,

droplet of time.

The eyes that meet;

the friendly greet;

lovers we lose;

the farewells we choose;

Lifted hearts tempted and lost,

to frivolous imaginings at great cost.

Come and see the multitudes of fantasies;

donated or taken in a moment.

The first kiss we grant on tender lips;

passions ignited under the blessed light of stars;

to wandering hands prying into locked chests;

cruel bargains stolen and delivered in secret touches.

The people agreed to;

those consumed without consent.

All in a single moment.

One fragment can narrate endless stories.

Come and lose ourselves in the worlds

we shape for each other.

Blossoming loves;

petty arguments won;

promises made and broken;

lascivious thirst for skin on skin;

fights turned brutal, burning, raging in the dead hours;

shattered trust; bitter confusion;

stinging remorse;

the pulse of regret tapping under the skin.

We feel so much in one second.

Together, a seething, roiling

mass of humanity laid bare.

A connective unit, ignoring it’s separate

millions of limbs.

Let’s marvel at this spectacle.

#reflections #voyeurism #journeys #personalhealth

Tamara Fraser Aug 2016

Replacing You

A cold lonesome night,

the streets a desert of garbage and secrets,

crumbling dreams twisting in the air,

grey concrete oceans,

humans upon humans;

locked in cabinets.

I lie shivering under your coiled figure.

Clothed yet icy to the touch.

Dark shapes slide along the ceiling, sinking slowly into the cracks and

stains;

you move.

you move closer, arms enclosing my waist, legs entwined around mine,

lips nestled against my neck, a quick bite, a breath

before you drift again to somewhere,

I can’t find.

I wonder what you see behind closed eyes,

I wonder how the shape of my body feels beside yours,

what do you notice?

I can’t sleep.

I can’t fall into an abyss beside you and not worry about waking from it.

your eyes open.

Your hands tracing down my spine, I feel you grind even closer,

almost trying to fit my mould, take over my being, come inside

like I’m the only warm spot in your bed.

You sleepily tease, expecting me to groan as i feel you glide up my thighs

but I can’t stand the pressure.

I feel your tongue over my shoulder blades

before you move off with

a muffled sigh

a disappointment crawling along the bed sheets.

Is this not what I thought I wanted?

to feel touch, to feel desire, to feel bodies linking;

the heat of attention, the fire of lust and adventure and power over you.

but it’s empty.

there is a jagged piece open in my chest.

I think it’s where my heart would be,

but you don’t help heal it

you only

rip

little

seams

apart

into a growing hole.

I thought I could use you to forget someone.

I thought I could feel again, the way I did in his arms,

swimming in his eyes.

I need his attention again, before I feel the loss,

the prickling sting,

the pain.

why do I crave such poison?

I bleed memories of you.

I feel them trail along the carpet as I drag myself

out of that man’s arms,

into the empty night.

I feel you walk alongside me,

but you keep

falling behind.

I turn and you fade.

like you never existed at all.

And I feel the sickness climb my throat,

I feel my legs shake;

heart beat throb rolling in my ears.

why have you left me for dead?

Why are you so cold?

Do you feel?

I kiss you and you hide.

I hold you and you twist away like I’m

hurting you.

Frigid.

Icy.

Void and broken.

I have this disease coursing through my bloodstream.

there is no cure.

and It’s you.

you circulate through me, causing all kinds of hurt.

You are part of me, just like i’m the shadow you see in the evenings,

and the shadow that hunts you at dawn. The shadow of the person you

long to feel against your

skin again.

We will never lose each other.

perhaps one day I’ll be able to bottle you.

bleed myself dry and place you on a shelf, a pedestal.

but for now you stay.

Stay.

because I know I can’t live without your curse bundled tight inside me.

Stay.

because if you walked away again where would you leave me?

#relationships #experiences #journeys